28 of 100: Negargari (نگارگری)

Still reading Martyr!, which still is delighting me. Just now, a dream sequence featuring the narrator Cyrus's father and the poet Jalal al-Din Muhammad, aka Rumi, "a gorgeous man in orange and purple silk robes taking a deep drag of a blunt. The man had high, supermodel cheekbones and a long black beard the color of deep night with little braids woven into it, a few decorated with tiny shells and beads." Rumi! How cool! As the two men talk the father "noticed suddenly that Rumi's arms were covered with colorful tattoos depicting negargari, little illuminated Byzantine miniatures, and the figures, some on horseback, some firing bows, were moving all around, playing out their little lives across Rumi's skin."

Well, of course I had to look that up, and when I saw some examples I remembered negargari (نگارگری) that I have seen in person in museums and always found so appealing. Wikipedia tells me they are intended to be kept in an album of such works called a muraqqa, which gives them a sort of privacy and curatorial consistency. The genre became "significant in Persian art in the 13th century, receiving Chinese influence after the Mongol conquests," and reached a highpoint in the 15th and 16th centuries. The pigments used are mostly mineral-based, which gives them a bright, pure coloring. Many figures are often depicted, with great attention paid to the background; animals are also widely featured. The Wiki article has much more detail on contents, styles, and trends. Here are a few examples (click to see large on black):

Saki, by Reza Abbasi, 1609

A complex palace scene by Mir Sayyid Ali, c. 1540

Ibn Bakhtishu's Manafi al-Hayawan (Uses of Animals),
1297–99

Yusuf and Zulaikha (Joseph chased by
Potiphar's wife), by Behzād, 1488

Camp scene: Majnun (at top wearing 
orange) spies on his beloved Layla
(standing in tent doorway), c. 1556–65

The Baysonghor Shahnameh, 1430:
Faramarz, son of Rostam, mourns the death
of his father and of his uncle Zavareh

Bahram Gur kills the dragon, 
in a Shahnameh of 1371, Shiraz

Khusraw discovers Shirin bathing in a pool
(a favorite scene), 1548

Illustration from One Thousand
and One Nights by Sani ol molk, 1853

27 of 100: Albrecht Dürer, artist

Back in January 2020 I featured Albrecht Dürer as (surprise!) a watercolorist. Today I'm posting some other of his works—because I've been running across him in a job I'm working on, about drawing and printmaking: the catalogue for an exhibit coming soon to the Getty Museum and the Art Institute of Chicago. And it reminds me how thoroughly I enjoy his art, this man who lived from 1471 to 1528 and yet feels so contemporary. First, some self-portraits:

At age 26

A detail

At age 13

The earliest painted self-portrait, age 22

At age 28

A sick Dürer, age 40-ish

And some random other works (he was prolific and eclectic, in all sorts of mediums):

Praying Hands, c. 1508

Melencolia I, 1514

Rhinoceros, 1515

The Northern Hemisphere of 
the Celestial Globe, 1515

St. Jerome in His Study, 1521

St. Christopher, 1521

Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, 1498

Coat of arms, 1523

I could go on and on, but maybe I'll save more for another day when I feel like revisiting Herr Dürer. 

26 of 100: Some Galápagos birds

Two years ago last month, we finally acted on the dream of visiting the Galápagos Islands, spending two weeks on the Samba, captained by the island native Juan Carlos Salcedo. Each day we would visit a different island; we would snorkel; we ate great food. The whole trip was amazing. 

But of course, it was the wildlife that was most amazing. Completely unwary, they just let you walk right up to them. Which allows for some pretty spectacular photos. Here are some I took, from a couple of the islands, Genovesa and Española, of birds. Maybe another day I'll post a few shots of mammals and reptiles.

Red-footed booby

Pigeon

Española mockingbird

Blue-footed booby with chicks

Waved albatross

Yellow-crowned night heron

Immature frigatebird

Female (and male) frigatebird

Yellow-crowned night heron

Swallow-tailed gull

Male frigatebird

Immature frigatebird

Red-footed booby

Nazca booby

Blue-footed booby

 

25 of 100: My left foot

The other day I read an article in the New York Times about the importance of strong feet. It included a few little self-assessment routines, which of course I did—I want to have strong feet!—and I passed them just fine. 

Then I went for a hike in the Big Sur backcountry, doing trail work. And on the three-mile walk back from our turnaround point, the top of my left food started hurting. Not a sharp pain—more like a feeling of being bruised. Tender. How odd.

When the discomfort persisted, I did a little poking around online, and learned that there is such a thing as an extensor tendon—in both the feet and the hands. In the foot specifically, we have two types: Extensor Hallucis Longus, which lifts up the big toe, and Extensor Digitorum, which lifts the other four toes. Both tendons run down across the front of the ankle, across the top of the foot, and then fan out attaching to the tips of the toes.  

It turns out, the extensor tendon fairly easily succumbs to overwork, resulting in inflammation: tendonitis—which can also be caused by shoes that are too tightly laced, too small, or with improper support. (Ah, the critical importance of well-fitting shoes!)

So that's my self-diagnosis: extensor tendonitis. The big bump on top of my foot seems to confirm, and to suggest it's the Hallucis Longus. I have switched to wearing sturdier high-top boots on my walks now, and am trying to do some exercises, such as these proposed by the website Upswing Health. It also convinces me that my recent exercise regime of doing as little as possible probably isn't the best, and come August I will be resuming a 10,000 (or so)-step practice. As that NYT article said, strong feet are important! Not to mention all the other strength that comes from regular exercise.

And if you think our feet are as simple as that diagram above, here's a more thorough rendering. We are complicated creatures. It's a miracle we work at all.

 

24 of 100: Urumqi

Sixteen years ago today we arrived in Urumqi, Xinjiang Province, Uighur Autonomous Region, en route to a total eclipse of the sun. I took some photos that day. Here they are (in random order), complete with Flickr captions. (Click on images to see them larger.)

The green area on the upper left is the People's Park that we strolled
through enthralled by—well, the people, out enjoying a lovely Sunday
afternoon. They were playing traditional Chinese and not so traditional
(accordion, violin) instruments and singing, playing in the water,
playing cards, flying kites, fishing, getting fortunes told. Just out
for the afternoon, enjoying life. We were captivated. When we left
that park, we encountered the pools along the highway—
very popular. But we were actually in search of Hongshan Park,
which happened to be across the superhighway—and eventually we found it. 

Hongshan Park: Nice light and shadows.

People's Park: Lots of floral and cloth sculptures,
most of them kind of silly. I would say like this one.
Pink and green penguins?

Buying a song: There was so much music going on
in the park today, and if someone came along and wanted
to take part, all they had to do was go to this woman,
and she was ready to sell them the sheet music to whatever tune
they had in mind. What a deal! 

An old man in People's Park, watching the goings-on.

It was the year of the Olympics in Beijing. This is
Hongshan Park. Note the ferris wheel above the trees.

A fanciful bird, made entirely out of teacups,
soup spoons, and small porcelain dishes

Balloons at Hongshan Park

Strictly prohibit from abandoning stones bottles of wine and minglement.

A barbecue stand: shishkebab, Uighur style.

Fisherwoman.

July 27: We arrived in Urumqi, Xinjiang Province, at 2 p.m.
(Beijing time--which is China time--but locally that would
have been about noon, if you're paying attention to the sun).
After getting our rooms and cooling down a bit, we ventured out
into Urumqi. It's a refreshing place, after the hustle and bustle
of Shanghai. Plenty of bustle still, but we felt less conspicuous—
even though we were the only European types around. Maybe it's
because there are a lot of different ethnic groups here. Maybe
because it's more Muslim. I don't know. Anyway, we enjoyed
strolling through the streets, not being hassled, and enjoying the
sights and sounds. And whoa, once we arrived at People's Park,
it was the sounds that overwhelmed us. The first group we
stumbled on was dancers, doing Zorba the Greek sorts of moves
to recorded music. But then we came upon gathering after
gathering of folks playing both native instruments and Western
ones (accordion, violin), all accompanied by singing. With sheet
music sold nearby. It was sort of a cross between Irish get-together-
at-the-pub-whoever-shows-up-and-let's-play-together and karaoke.
Microphones in some cases. The whole works. Beautiful to see,
even if the the sound wasn't what my Western ear was used to.
Makes me wish we had more of a musical tradition in my land.
It's a lovely way to blend together, if briefly.

A kite flyer in People's Park.

Runnin' runnin', can't stop!