Noticing xxviii - birds of Big Bend National Park

In April I will be spending a week with my sisters-in-law in and around Big Bend National Park in southwestern Texas (my first visit to that great state). I've been doing the research into lodgings, birding spots, and—a splurge—a birding (and herps) guide, Big Bend Birding and Photo Tours. Today I sent off our deposit for two half-days and one full day of birding delight (the latter to see the little warbler at the bottom of this page).

Here are some of the more special feathered friends we may be seeing, if the timing is right:

Greater roadrunner (Geococcyx californianus). Photo by NPS/Amy Gibson

Mexican duck (Anas diazi). Photo by Ryan O'Donnell

Mexican jay (Aphelocoma wollweberi). Photo by Jason Vassallo

Varied bunting (Passerina versicolor). Photo by Curtis McCamy

Lucifer hummingbird (Calothorax lucifer). Photo by Greg Lavaty

Black-capped vireo (Vireo atricapilla). Photo by Cameron Rutt

Colima warbler (Leiothlypis crissalis). Photo by Rick & Nora Bowers

Why are they all looking to the right? Except that mind-of-its-own hummingbird!

Book Report: The Anonymous Venetian

24. Donna Leon, The Anonymous Venetian (1994) (11/13/19)

This is the third in the series of Commissario Guido Brunetti mysteries, set in Venice, which, as I remarked in my last report, may lack a bit in terms of a satisfying "mystery," but deliver nicely in terms of local color—the neighborhoods of greater Venice, in this case including the rather seamy industrial area of Mestre; the graft and corruption of official Italian society; and social relations both personal and professional. Also, food.

This case (which in the US was called Dressed for Death; I read a UK edition) involves the murder of a man—a banker, as it turns out—dressed as a transvestite. Those two elements, banking (or money, writ large) and the ladies and gents of the night, become the pivots of the mystery—which is a fairly straightforward one: there are no big twists. Except that even getting a credible confession isn't enough to render justice, owing to the reputable stature of the chief man accused. Who's going to believe a confessed murderer against him? Fortunately, one final small twist in the last ten pages gives Brunetti the proof he needs. And all is just again with Venice. For the moment.

As always, Brunetti's interactions with his superior, Vice-Questore Patta (see also my first report), were amusing. For example:

"Bankers do not kill one another, Brunetti," Patta said with the rock-solid certainty so characteristic of him.
 Too late, Brunetti realized the danger here. Patta had only to see the advantage of attributing Mascari's death to some violent episode in his deviant private life, and he would be justified in leaving it to the Mestre police to search for the person responsible and thus effectively remove Brunetti from any involvement with the case.
 "You're probably right, sir," Brunetti conceded, "but this is not the time when we can risk a suggestion in the press that we have not explored every possible avenue in this case."
 Like a bull at the slightest flip of the cape, Patta responded to this reference to the media. "What are you suggesting then?"

Noticing xxvii - 1970s Chilean folk music

Driving home from the market today I was listening, as usual, to NPR, and they were broadcasting about the current civil unrest in Bolivia. In the background you could hear thousands of people yelling, "El pueblo unido jamás será vencido"—which took me right back to some music I enjoyed listening to in the 1970s, and haven't thought of for quite some time: the Chilean groups Quilapayún and Inti Illimani. Both had anthems for the Popular Unity government of Salvador Allende (Inti Illimani's cover of "Venceremos" caused Allende to famously state, "There can be no revolution without song"), and both went into exile in Europe—France and Italy, respectively—after the 1973 coup. The two groups still exist, in somewhat different forms, for their long histories haven't been without strife. They were permitted to return to Chile after 1988 and Pinochet's ouster.

They and their music were part of a widespread movement called Nueva canción that also took in Argentina, Cuba, Spain, and other Spanish-speaking countries during that era of pro-democracy social upheaval.

Here is Quilapayún with a righteous "El pueblo unido" (1973), followed by the more recent incarnations of both groups coming together in 2010 on a classic, "La muralla." (They've also put out a two-volume live recording, Inti + Quil: Músicas en la memoria, juntos en Chile, a YouTube video of which concert can be seen here. It's lovely music.)

Noticing xxvi - Peter Stackpole, photographer

This morning I did some volunteer work for a local library's bookstore, cleaning books. It's not a glamorous job, but somebody's got to do it. Several of the books were old Penguin editions of John Steinbeck's novels. The cover art featured well-known photographers' images. I was especially taken by the man on the cover of Cannery Row (a subject I tackled just the other day), and was surprised to learn that it was by Peter Stackpole (1913–1997). I don't know why I was surprised—except, I guess, that I tend to associate him with photos of the construction of the San Francisco–Oakland Bridge and the Golden Gate Bridge. But as it turns out, thanks to a show he put on of the bridge photos, he was hired as one of the first four staff photographers at Life magazine, where he worked for 24 years, and many of his images from that gig are portraits, whether of the rich and famous or of regular folks, like this fellow. (His Life archive can be seen here.)

Seeing his name reminded me of the wonderful shots of those iconic bridges, and I figured if nothing else occurred to me today, I could always repost a few of those. So, here, for your viewing pleasure, photos taken in 1934–1936. The first are of the Bay Bridge (which took three years to build and cost the lives of 28 workers); the final couple are of the Golden Gate Bridge. What an exciting project that must have been for the 21-year-old photographer.

Noticing xxv - Ofrendas

This afternoon we went to hear an hour of very short plays—mostly monologues—by local playwrights. One of the pieces, written and movingly performed by Aideed Medina, was called Ofrendas, about the altar (say it in Spanish) she created in her home for Day of the Dead.

It reminded me of two things: all the marigolds I've seen being sold on streetcorners lately; and a friend of mine, Consuelo Flores, who spent all of October building four ofrendas of her own, in Los Angeles. Here is a good article in LA Magazine about altaristas Consuelo and her fellow artist Ofelia Esparza, with some history, some examples of ofrendas, and guidelines for creating your own. It is a serious undertaking, involving, love, respect, and honor of family members who have passed on. And here is a piece done by KCET from a few years ago about Consuelo. And finally, here is a piece from LA Weekly about the origins of the celebration in LA's own Boyle Heights in the 1970s, and the legacy of that movement.

I know I'm late for Day of the Dead, but it's never too late to learn something new. Here are some photos of ofrendas, showing the diversity and flare of these very personal artistic creations.

Photo by Pamela Avila

Each Ofrenda should contain something of the
4 elements: earth (marigolds), air (papeles), fire (candles),
and water (drinks as well as little bowls of water)

Here's a little something on the meaning of marigolds

And yes, marigolds are also a component of Hindu Diwali celebrations, which this year occurred on October 27, just a few days before Day of the Dead. Here are some Diwali decorations, to round this post out.

Noticing xxiv - GIFF

Every year for the past six or more years, Geocaching.com has sponsored a Geocaching International Film Festival (GIFF). Today about forty of us gathered to socialize over popcorn and cookies, watch this year's 16 (of 60) finalists, and win some raffle prizes. The films were from all over the world, including Brazil, Slovenia, Switzerland, and Spain, and there was even one by our very own local (Santa Cruz County) cacher ullii (Julie), who joined us with her family—all of whom figured in the film. It was fun to be with celebrities!

The films may eventually show up on vimeo. Here are all the winners from 2015 (which I posted about here), by way of an example of, well, the silliness of the project. Maybe you have to be insane an addict a geocacher to fully appreciate it. Probably.

Oh, further digging gets me the full reel for the last three years (2016, 2017, 2018), on youtube. What the heck, I might as well include them here. I am nothing if not thorough. And I might actually enjoy watching these again, who knows?

But the really exciting news is that today, despite my claim yesterday about "never, ever" winning anything, I got the grand prize at the raffle: an inflatable kayak! Some friends have traded up to a snap-together hardshell kayak and don't need this one anymore. So they donated it to this event. Woot!

It just so happens that there is a series of caches on the Pajaro River that require access by boat! Now we're set!

Noticing xxiii - miniatures

Every year our local art museum has a miniatures exhibit and raffle as a year-end fundraiser. Today we happened to be in the neighborhood while running errands, and we decided to stop in to see about some membership cards that we never received. Turned out, our membership had never even been processed! But we had proof of purchase, and within short order our membership was officialized.

While there, we took in the 150-odd miniatures on view, all by local artists. What an eclectic array—such talent! And nicely presented, with pleasing groupings: the still lifes with fruit; the abstracts; the monochromes; the landscapes; the decorative pieces; etc.

I was drawn to many of them, but the following five were what won my camera's eye. I'd even be tempted to drop my name in the attached boxes, if only I weren't the sort who never, ever wins things. Our membership will have to be our donation to the museum. But still: it's a lovely exhibit, and I might just go back to see the pieces again—and maybe reconsider the raffle. I can't always be a loser, can I?

Allyson Malek, Pastures of Heaven (encaustic)
(I adore  encaustic; one of these days I might even try it myself)

Diane Eisenbach, Bee Plate (ceramic)

Dixie Dixon, Man on Cliff (archival pigment print)
(Dixie  happens to be Dorothea Lange's daughter-in-law,
though  she never actually met her: Lange died in 1965,
almost 30 years before the Dixons married)

Wynn Bullock, Photogram, 1970 (pigment on paper)

Elizabeth Murray, Renoir's Garden  (handmade book)