Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Gone until June 25th


I'm heading off to Napoli to check out Pompeii and some of the weird museums they have there, and then to the UK for a short visit (strangely, it was easier and cheaper to go by air via the UK than to take the train/ferry connection back to Croatia). I'll also be in Pisa for the Luminaria. Hopefully I'll bring some Cabinet-like things back with me to share. See you then!

Monday, June 9, 2008

Decrepit But Not Abandoned

Walking on Marjan, the high hill-park here in Split, I have walked past this fascinating spot a number of times.



It's rare, in the States, to see glass greenhouses anymore - and rarer still to see one in such a wonderful state of organic funk. I wondered what this was for ages before I went to investigate.


I found that it was the Botanički Vrt, or the Botanical Gardens, a largely futile exercise in signage, as it is crumbling and seems to have very little in the way of exotic plants. There are several greenhouses, of which this is the largest (the others seeming to be a poor storage area for a motorcycle and a bunch of cast-off window-frames). The gardens are tiny and pretty, but this greenhouse held my imagination. Walking around it was an exercise in mysterious snooping.





After I'd been there for awhile a guy came out of one of the buildings to smoke a cigarette. He looked at me curiously, then asked me a question in Croatian. After awhile I realized he had unlocked it for me, so I went inside, to a scene of curiously domestic disintegration and decay.




Proof positive that it's always worth investigating...

Sunday, June 8, 2008

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab


I just found the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab site, which is silly because they apparently have me on their link list. But then, I am usually the last to hear when someone puts me on their blogroll.

However the scents and other products that Black Phoenix creates actually smell (which I suspect would be excellent), the site's presentation and concept are marvelous. Imagine my joy when I find a section called "Steamworks" which houses scents based on things I've talked about here, such as Aelopile, Antikythera Mechanism, Robotic Scarab, and Violet Ray.

They also have whole sections of oils named after Neil Gaiman characters, Shakespearean oils, oils based on Alice in Wonderland characters. And so much more. And the site is really fun to look at, very well-done.

Friday, June 6, 2008

The Languages of Tone and Rhythm


I've always been a sucker for a good boatswain's call.

Oh, I don't mean that silly "Wee-ee-ee" you hear in Star Trek when there is a change of status; I mean the wonderful silver and copper device which was used to issue orders that could be heard above noise and weather.


There were any number of calls used to communicate different things, made by opening and closing the hand over the buoy to make the note lower or higher. Besides plain whistling, there were warbles (made by blowing jerkily) and trills (made by rolling an "r" while blowing); by blowing patterns of high and low notes of varying style, most anything that needed to be communicated on shipboard could be said.


Using flutes, whistles, and drums to communicate is a very old idea. Ancient Greek and Roman ships used flutes to help the rowers keep in step, and the boatswain's call (or bosun's whistle) has been around since at least the 1300s. Not only that, there are numerous whistling languages traditional among mountain peoples, where visual contact can be made over great distances, but the voice is difficult to discern (the exception being, of course, yodeling, which is yet another language). Some places that have developed whistling languages are Nepal, Mexico, Greece, New Guinea and the Canary Islands.

Similarly there are also drum languages, used once again to be heard over long distances (though visual connection seems to be less important here). In Africa, drum languages are so common that they are a standard and almost casual auxiliary mode of communication. In Cameroon, for example, the dogs are actually trained to recognize their names when they are drummed - which, if you think about it, isn't much different than sheepdogs recognizing their personal whistles.


Master-drummer Michel Wanga, Ippy, June 1973



There are a number of ways in which whistling or drumming can work. In some cases, they are direct transmissions of how the spoken language actually sounds. For example, the Sizang people (of Chin State, Burma) have a tonal language, so their whistled language uses an abridgement system - in other words, it drops all aspects of the language but one basic element - to mimic the tones (and then relies on context for the rest). Some languages translate the message into code - like Morse Code, for example, which bears no relation to the actual spoken message but relies on the alphabet to get a more specific kind of message across. Others use a translation system, for example, the Duala (Africa) translate their messages into such archaic synonyms that they are essentially encoding it, because the synonyms have ceased to be used in spoken language, being only retained in their drumming.

There's something about this idea, though, that is intriguing. How many of us loved the idea of a secret language when we were kids, something our friends could understand and no one else could? How many of us dreamed about smoke signals, and were fascinated by the stories of identical twins who had developed their own language which they only used with each other? There is something about the idea of being able to change forms, from words to beats or whistles, that takes this idea one step further - because you are not only speaking a language other people can't understand, you are doing it without looking like you are communicating at all. Imagine sitting in class tapping your pencil on your desk. Your teacher thinks you are simply twitchy, but in reality you are passing notes - while looking innocent and attentive.

Look at this passage from Mazateco Whistle Speech, by George M. Cowan:

"Eusebio Martinez was observed one day standing in front of his hut, whistling to a man a considerable distance away. The man was passing on the trail below, going to market to sell a load of corn leaves which he was carrying. The man answered Eusebio's whistle with a whistle. The interechange was repeated several times with different whistles. Finally the man turned around, retraced his steps a short way and came up the footpath to Eusebio's hut. Without saying a word he dumped his load on the ground. Eusebio looked the load over, went into his hut, returned with some money, and paid the man his price. The man turned and left. Not a word had been spoken. The had talked, bargained over the price, and come to an agreement satisfactory to both parties - using only whistles as a medium of communication."


In the Canary Islands, there is a shepherd's whistling language known as Silbo Gomero, or Silbo, which was extremely old (pre-Spanish) and nearly lost by the end of the 20th century. However, the Gomeran government made it mandatory for children to learn Silba in school, and it's making a comeback. There has been a lot of interest in it, even to the point of scientists doing brain scans of Silbadors (speakers of Silba) and finding that when they heard Silba their brains reacted as if they were listening to a language, as opposed to non-Silbadors, who merely responded as if they were hearing whistling. This seems a little pointless to me, since people use it to pass on fairly complex messages, despite its apparent simplicity, so it must be processed like language.

It's interesting, the question of "what is language?" Of course, if you ask different people you'll get different responses. People who study the philosophy of language tend to stroke their chins and discuss things like "What is meaning?" and "How can meaning ever really be known?" - which doesn't really answer any questions - while semioticians (who study signs, symbols, and communication) differ from linguists in that they are willing to include things other than words in their definition of language - in other words, "Semiotics differs from linguistics in that it generalizes the definition of a sign to encompass signs in any medium or sensory mode.. it... extends the definition of language in what amounts to its widest analogical or metaphorical sense." [wiki] In other words, they believe that language can exist in any number of situations and ways of expression. The language of clothes, the language of TV, the language of gestures.

Which, if you think about it, extends language into all the spheres of our thinking. We are constantly telling each other something, either through a glance, or how we hold our arms; what choose to dress that day, or whether we kiss our sweethearts goodbye. it is all communication.

I remember when I was teaching English in Japan, I used to terrify my students with the following lesson:

"Is THIS your umbrella?"
"Is this YOUR umbrella?"
"Is this your UMBRELLA?"

All of which, of course, have entirely different connotations, as they imply completely different choices that you are questioning. The first one asks which umbrella, the second asks whose umbrella, and the third, well, that one can't seem to believe it's really an umbrella at all.

So it might actually be tempting to step outside the regular context of "language" as we know it and find some simpler mode of communication. I love talking on the telephone, because I don't have to pay attention to subtle physical cues (either mine or theirs) and can rely entirely on voice timbre. I am charming on the phone, and awkward in person, because I am constantly distracted by the matter of body language: did they hear that last part? Are they bored? Did I just make them angry? ...The telephone is just so much simpler - I can funnel all that energy into my voice, and it makes me focused and comfortable.

The modern equivalent of drumming/whistling/etc. is, of course, the text message, either IM or by mobile phone. Whole languages have risen that are completely endemic to the digital environment. When older people moan that young people are being ruined by all this terrible spelling, I reply, "Not at all; they are simply learning another language." Like whistling, drumming, and smoke signals, IM and text messages use code, abridgement, phrases, and even sometimes direct transmission to get the message over a long distance. Nothing new there.


Andes, Venezuela: "at six o clock in the morning the fog was crawling over the mountains and i heard the whistle language of farmers in the valley (like you can hear on la gomera, canary islands) " (Thanks to drmidix on Flickr)




Links:

For history and how-to of the Boatswain's call, try this, this, and this. Wikipedia also has an interesting entry on it.

An odd little website on the pursuit of whistling languages (with sound samples).

BBC article on the revival of Silba.

A little page on train whistle language.

Wikipedia article on communicating through drums.

The Western Australian Maritime Museum, where you can buy a replica boatswain's call (can't guarantee the quality, though - try eBay for actual antiques)

Forms of Alternate Communication

Monday, June 2, 2008

Steampunk School Bus


Sometimes, when I'm lucky, my daughters and I sit around the dinner table and go off into flights of fancy. They give me excellent advice on my fiction (some of which is for children), coming up with often brilliant ideas which stir my imagination.

Last night we got onto the topic of things which would make my life easier, and I said I wished there was a school bus or some servant who would take them to school and pick them up (we live in a rural area). We started talking about ideal forms of transport - and they came up with this marvelous idea, which caught my fancy so much that I stayed up until midnight putting an image together. After all, what is Steampunk without silliness? In fact, what is anything without silliness?

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Lovely Locks


I was completely taken with these locks from the height of the Republic of Ragusa, of which Dubrovnik was the capital. For many hundreds of years this small and wealthy maritime city-state held its own against the Venetians on the North and the Ottoman Empire on the East and South. Their maritime prowess was surprising, given their size and their small population; they were one of Venice's biggest competitors in sea trade; the Ottomans saw them as an important port, and treated with them accordingly.

And so, of course, they needed good trunks to lock up their valuables.

These are a few of the trunks I saw at the Rector's Palace in Dubrovnik. The lock mechanisms fascinated me, because they seem to use curved levers to shift movement from vertical to horizontal, and vice versa. Enjoy.


This one uses steel arcs to shift movement around the surface of the lid, opening or releasing the bolts into the locks, which are on the walls of the trunk. ( I have a picture of this but haven't been able to find it - I'll keep looking). I spent about half an hour staring at this, following the mechanism. It's superb.




This lock uses a snake motif to distract you from understanding the mechanism. I itched to play around with it to find out how it worked; but alas, there was an attentive docent...

Saturday, May 24, 2008

The Death and Resurrection of a Cabinet


This is what French Wikipedia says about Joseph Bonnier de la Mosson:

"Joseph Bonnier (1702-1744) was a French aristocrat of the 18th century. Fortune enabled him to make career in the army, becoming a colonel of the Dragons-Dauphin Regiment and Maréchal-des-logis (staff sergeant) of the Royal Household. He left Paris with the death of his father to take on the responsibilities of Treasurer of Languedoc.

Appointed baron of Mosson, he build a famous folly, the Domaine Bonnier de la Mosson, close to Montpellier. A great science and art lover, he became famous for his collection which was housed in his Parisian home. With his death, his fortune was wasted and his house ransacked."


Such a brief description for such a larger-than-life man.

In 1726, Joseph Bonnier's careful and frugal father died, leaving his twenty-four-year-old son with a fortune worth ten billion francs and a governmental position which paid, possibly unofficially, one hundred thousand écu, or five or six hundred thousand livres (an ecu, just before the Revolution, being equivalent to about $25 in 2006). Being young, insanely rich, and a handsome officer, Bonnier had no problems with spending his money. He loved pomp and splendor, and was known to frequent the theatres, both in the audience and backstage, and showed particular interest in beautiful actresses. He was intelligent and talented, and was able to indulge all his desires for beauty and knowledge without being accountable to anyone - at least, for awhile.

When he took the opera singer known as La Petitpas for his mistress, building her a fanciful palace in the garden of the Hotel de Lude (his luxurious house in Paris), he was


In the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. is a painting by Jean-Marc Nattier of Bonnier, showing a man happy in his obsession:

"Bonnier was the perfect eighteenth-century amateur, whose wealth allowed him the leisure to study nature's curiosities. His large collection, open to the public, held cabinets devoted to anatomy, chemistry, pharmacy, and mechanical engineering. Nattier's portrait shows a man of lively intelligence, informally dressed and in a relaxed pose, surrounded by the objects that held his interest: books about natural history (perhaps a publication he sponsored), jars of biological specimens, and mechanical models." (link)