Natalya's best of 2007

What it's like to still be a kid. With a camera.

I kinda wonder...

What will tomorrow bring?

December Sun

One of my favorite pictures from 2007.

Along the levee trail in Lawrence, untouched by civilization.

Llamas

Hey Anna, this is that weird-looking llama I was telling you about.


Photos by Jenn. Girl in pink skirt is Tara. Drawing below is by Anna W. For more llama art by Anna, see here. To find out how to help unite llamas with the children who love them, hit up Llama Love.



Llove,

Llukas

Thursday Tracks: Two-Dollar Shoe Archive

I got an e-mail the other day from Clamp asking about a "Two-Dollar Shoe" track I posted here a few months ago. He was looking to update the archive of the group that he played in along with a half-dozen or more talented bluegrass musicians based in Lawrence, Kansas. Fortunately I found the CD, and despite it being coated in scratches, it still played. Even more fortunately, this selected archive is available for all to see and hear. A chronological tracklist and a bunch of photos are available here, which is a real treat for everyone who remembers seeing them play and also those who never got the chance. I got to see a couple of these guys over the break and am happy to report that they're still playing music. You can hear some of Charlie's songs here and Adam's here.

The above picture was taken by Kinser, who has been posting a lot of great photos from Poland. Like this one below.

The Myth of Santaphus

"Yes, Virginia, there is an animatronix Santa Claus, and no, he will never, ever, ever stop laughing"

If you've ever been to Crown Center during the winter holidays, you've probably seen the ancient mechanical Santa Claus that jerkily slaps his knee over and over again while merrily chuckling "ho ho ho" amid fake snowy scenery in the company of spinning panda bears and magical elfkin friends.

I remember loving that thing as a kid, but also being just a tiny bit afraid of it due to its sheer immensity. You'd think that I'd see it now through nostalgic eyes, but I went there over my lunch break last week and the thing looks scarier to me now than it ever did as a child.

This mostly has to do with the Santa's appearance. His face, coated with nearly a century's worth of varnish, is covered in a pattern of fine cracks, giving it the distinguished antique quality of a Renaissance-era fresco. His unchanging smile and repetitious laughter grow unnerving after a few minutes, reminiscent less of a holiday totem than a man gone permanently insane.

The man has a history, as well. I read the sign chronicling this Claus's story, how during the transitions from one department store to the next, he sat for years in lumber yards and warehouses in a deactivated state. For some reason, the Santa's unnatural longevity caused me to view it as a mechanical monstrosity brought back to life through nebulous acts of technosorcery. Like an Urak-Hai of Happiness.

With a pang of guilt I realized that, for the first time, I was thinking of the storied Santa as a machine and not a Santa. I looked at the heavy red velvet costume draped over his massive forearms and imagined what the hulking figure must look like beneath his Christmas clothes. Probably like a giant rusty terminator cyborg, I thought. A morbid image, I know, but once it presented itself, I found it rather hard to dismiss.

I had to admire the man, though. The machine. The Santa. Whatever you want to call him/it. He simply never runs out of jollity. Though it's a bit unnerving to know the man's been laughing for generations (racking up an astonishing 267,840 knee slaps per season), it's sort of wryly humbling to know that through all the changes, school years, romantic fiascoes and travels I've been through, he's still up there slapping his knee for all we're worth.

Creaky and battle-scarred but mysteriously resilient -- if there's a better metaphor for my own Christmas spirit than this jolly but slightly unnerving old elf, I'm not likely to find it anytime soon.

How will they know it's Christmas?

I found out this weekend when I went to Au Marche in Lawrence that the U.S. has declared an embargo on Kinder Surprise Eggs. The FDA has declared them a choking hazards, so the delightful toy-within-a-chocolate-egg treat is off limits to the American consumer unless they have an alternate means of acquiring them.

This is pretty f*&%ing sad. I'm not sure I'll be able to really even celebrate the holidays without those tasty treats and the tiny toys they contain. I'm inclined to agree with the guy at the consumerist who argues that the thrills Kinder Eggs bring to thousands each year are worth a few kinder casualties.

Europe just keeps getting farther and farther away, I guess. The dropping dollar, rising airline prices, and now the kinder egg crisis of '07. At least I've got some Karl Heinz (der Herbstee -- waermt sich von innen auf!) with which to sip down my sorrows.

Oh, and a bit of trivia -- some of you might have wondered during your trips to Germany why "Kinder Ueberraschung" products are still called "Kinder Eggs" and not "Kinder Eier." I wondered the same thing myself once. From what I gathered, it probably has something to do with the German word "Eier" being slang for "balls" or "nuts." So advertising a round chocolate product that translates to "Kiddie balls" or "Child nuts" is understandably worth avoiding.

So as you can see, a seemingly innocent product such as kinder eggs also has a lethal, pornographic underside. But hey -- it could always be worse.

Bonus! A stop-action video of the Kinder Egg experience, thanks to someone in Finland

New digs

I'll get back to the mini-travelogue about South Africa tomorrow, but I wanted to give a nod to 2008 and beyond by sharing this postcard and biographical info about the Boley Building and its designer, architect Louis Curtiss. The company I work for, Andrews McMeel Universal, will be moving into the Boley Building in the fall of 2008, and we're getting a tour of the place tomorrow afternoon, even though renovation of the space is yet to officially begin.

I've heard a fair amount about the building itself, how the glass curtain-wall Curtiss designed for the Boley Clothing Building was the first of its kind, how Boley was a former newspaper editor turned successful businessman, etc. But I had not read much about with Mr. Curtiss himself until I came across this entry of his life and photo of his burial site in the coffeetable book, "Here Lies Kansas City," which illustrates the final resting places of famous Kansas Citians.

If all goes according to plan, AMU will be in the building by 2008, almost exactly one century after the building was constructed. Reading about Mr. Curtiss gave me a chuckle. Though I doubt I'd be able to recreate his Canadian-Parisian-Kansas Citian turn-of-the-century decadence, he appears to be a man after my own heart.

See below, and click on the image to enlarge.


a brief biography of Mr. Curtiss


The architect's unmarked grave

South Africa: arrival, skeleton gorge, Lion's head

Arriving in Africa, I felt a familiar combination of openness and blankness, the same thing I experienced the first time I flew into Europe. As I looked out the plane windows while landing in Johannesburg, I couldn't help but think, these mountains are African.

The feeling of blankness comes from not knowing what to expect, though it might also have something to do with having been on a plane or in airports for 36 hours. The open-mindedness stems from wanting to see and experience as much as I can in my short stay in this country. So far I have not been disappointed.

The first thing I had to do when I arrived in Cape Town was figure out how to drive on the left-hand side of the road. This wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It takes a certain amount of trust in the system not to follow your instincts and pull over to the right side, but the speed of the oncoming traffic on the highway leaves little time for hesitation.

Actually, driving on the left side is much weirder in thought than in practice. As a pedestrian, it's a different story. If I rely on instinct, I'm toast. Instead I have to look both ways repeatedly, like a lost schoolchild. It's also unnerving to look at other cars on the road and see that there's a 7-year-old in the driver's seat, and on top of that, he isn't even paying any attention to the road. Until, of course, you realize that that isn't really the driver's seat, and you should probably go because it's a green light.

I got very lost while driving into Stellenbosch the first night to meet up with Peter. He left me no exact address, no local number, no plan/time to rendezvous. In lieu of signs, the streets are labeled by scantly legible names painted in yellow on the curbs, so after looping through town several times, I found myself accidentally heading away from the lights of town and up into a mountain pass.

The road was narrow and dark enough that I decided not to turn around too suddenly. As the road's elevation climbed, however, I grew transfixed enough by the scenery not to want to even turn around any longer. The almost-full moon made the road shine like a ribbon winding through the shadowy outlines of the mountains. An unmistakable reminder to just relax and not worry about being lost.

I drove on past lodges, houses and wineries, eventually turning around in some industrial park driveway manned by a guard. When I knocked on his booth and asked him how to get back, he told me, simply, "You go over the mountain, you are in Stellenbosch."

Fortunately, the ATM I hit up when I got back was in front of an international call center, so I dialed Peter's American cell phone and we met up for some food and Castle lager at one of the nearby pubs.


The next day we climbed two separate peaks. First we ascended Table Mountain via the Skeleton Gorge Trail. I used to think signs marking the trail as "strenuous" were directed only at asthmatic nonagenarians, but apparently they apply to me these days as well. We made it to the top in a few hours, though, greeted by a mix of stunning views and all-encompassing fog. The speed with which clouds travel at the height is astonishing.


We took a roundabout trek across the summit to the cable car station, trekking alongside drop-offs that made my head swim, even though I'm usually not afraid of heights. I so badly wanted to launch a frisbee off the cliff and into the city bowl below, and Peter thought it would be fun to fire a hot dog all the way to Robben Island using Slugger's Hot Dog launcher. But, alas, we lacked the means.

In the end, it was probably best that we were unable to carry out our projectile-launching plans. Frisbee golf discs fall hard and dangerous from 1,086 meters, and any cape baboon lucky enough to catch a hot dog would probably grow dependent on ballpark freebies and lose all desire to fend for itself. Plus, Peter told me that in August an American tourist fell to his death from the top of Table Mountain while attempting one of the upper hiking trails, so we decided stick to safe activities like eating dried mangoes and snapping photographs.



After riding the gondola back down the mountain, we drove into Cape Town to enjoy some french fries along the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront.


After regaining our strength with pommes frittes, we headed back up Kloof Road to tackle the second peak of the day. This was the much-smaller but no less enigmatic Lion's Head, which Peter and I had heard was a popular spot from which to observe the full moon. We started out at a hearty pace, but were nearly turned back by a giant tree that had fallen in our path.

Fortunately, we overcame and took the trail around the base and up the ridge of the Lion's Head peak (so-named because its shape resembles a lion's head), affording us views of the sun setting over miles and miles of coastline.

We reached the top at the very second the first sliver of moonlight rose from behind the clouds. Several dozen people had gathered at the peak, many with their cameras ready, and I heard a man shout: "de maan komt!" to his kids playing on the other side of the small summit.

In the flash of cameras I saw couples with their arms around each other, friends sitting or standing around in groups, sipping champagne from plastic glasses.

We must have stayed at the top for at least 90 minutes, watching the moon rise higher over the lights of Cape Town. Though it was dark long before we began the way down, we passed a few groups of people still on their way up. By the time we got back to our car on Kleef Nok road, you could still see the distant flashlights of people filing both up and down the mountain.

That night I had dreams of falling off the side of Table Mountain. Nothing unpleasant or nightmarish, just semi-lucid visualizations of taking a liberating free-fall from the summit. A letting go of the caution and restraint I'd shown that day while hiking, and a subconscious release of tension from the long trip overseas. Or perhaps just a subconscious desire to become a Pteranodon...But enough for one day. More tomorrow.

A dozen photos from about as many friends

Photo by Jeff Bransted. Though I think it's a close-up of a sign, it looks like a grid showing KC as a stop on some futuristic transit system. Someday.


Taken by Jennifer in 2004 at the ArtSpace around the corner.


Photo from Jessica Brothers during Springfield's huge ice storm in January 07.


This is around the corner from the McDonald's on Broadway. Given the area, it wouldn't surprise me if somebody lived here.


A classic shot from Tara Sloan, taken in 2005.


Another shot by Tara in front of the now closed-down Yello Sub Campus.


Jon took this. No effects added, neither, just this lighter a homeless guy gave me that has a blue light on one end.


Photo by Moritz Piehler of two red habits that may enhance late-night relaxation but will also set things on fire.


Last year instead of watching the Super Bowl we went ice skating. Taken by David aka TyrannosaurusWetz.


The Space Race came to an inglorious end in the back of Mickey's Surplus.


This is that vision from Cape Town I was telling you about.


Ayla Kiran took this last month in Buenos Aires. It's purdy.

And some bonus shots displaying seasonal time-lapse:

Summer. Note evidence of so-called red habits.


Winter. The porch is going to completely collapse any day now.


Halloween.


Yesterday. As you can see, it's Madeira-drinking season once again.

R. Kelly, Ghosty, Grechaninov -- unfortunately not all at the same time

I'm pretty disappointed that I didn't get to see R. Kelly at the Sprint Center this weekend. It would have been the perfect way for me to see the new arena for the first time. Why didn't anyone tell me?

Oh well. Kansas City Star music writer Tim Finn wrote a pretty great description of the show that you can read here. An excerpt:

The show was a spectacle that included dancers and soft-core strippers, flash pots and fireworks, a bizarre skit featuring tribal music and prehistoric babes in animal skins (and the rhyme “rain forest” with “sex-a-saurus”).

Several times he advised the crowd: “What happens in this building stays in this building.”

Man. It must have been something. Ever since I first saw "Trapped in The Closet" a few months ago, I've been hooked. Maybe I'll catch him on his next arena tour. If there is one.

I'd like to follow the last post with a few more musical notes of interest. First off, Jon has a new video for Ghosty's "Dumbo Wins Again." The video is made up of photos by Jon, Jeff Bransted and Jennifer Brothers, and I found a few that I've taken in there as well. Jon traced other pictures to create the images on top, and some friends helped him literally stitch it all together. The places and people in the video flash by pleasantly but rapidly, making it all a bit dizzying. Kind of like life.


Ghosty's album will be out January 11 on Oxblood Records, and they'll be playing a bunch of shows next month as well.


And in case you're getting tired of hearing about bands I have family members in, or in the event that your ears are still smarting from watching the Ree-Yees video clips, than do not despair. I can appreciate quieter, more classically sophisticated sounds as well.

In this case I'm talking about the new recording of Russian composer Alexander Grechaninov's "Passion Week," which the Kansas City Chorale recorded and released this year. The Chorale and director Charles Bruffy have since earned nominations for no less than 5 Grammy Awards for this album and one other release, including best classical album. They're also going head-to-head with the Flaming Lips for competition on Best Surround Sound Album.

I was lucky enough to see one of the Chorale's performances of "Passion Week" last spring, which was incredibly entrancing, even to someone like me who is not terribly familiar with choral music. The disc sounds great as well, especially in the stillness of 4 in the morning while the freezing rain falls quietly outside.

You can find more information and listen to an audio clip at kcchorale.org, or read an article about the choir from today's KC Star. If you'd like to hear a complete track from the album, than allow me to suggest this one entitled, "Let My Prayer Be Set Forth."

So that's it for music news. I finished uploading my pictures from the SA trip today, so I'll be sharing a few of those this week. For now I'll just share this one that I took at the African Music Store in Cape Town, since I think it ties in nicely with what I've been talking about today.


Later.

Thursday Trax: Ree-Yees/Enormous Confusion

I'm thrilled to present these three videos Jon Allen shot and edited of the Ree-Yees show at the P House in Galesburg last month.

As I might have told you, the show itself was an incredibly visceral experience. Being in that room with the planets whooshing by while dancing around the DC-15 Clone Blasters firing all around us was like being in the belly of a living organism, the drums a blissfully sinister heartbeat, the pedals and microphones squalling jubilant death throes from the three-eyed drums/noise/visuals monster that is the Ree-Yees experience. You have to see it to believe, but these clips will put you as close to being there as you can be get without actually being there.

The first video features James Wetzel on drums and Eric Ratzel on effects, and Eric takes over on drums for the next two videos. Make sure to watch the second video in its entirety to see why it's called "Happy Birthday." The last few minutes contain an interesting diversion from the set before the duo take over with a renewed fury. The sound is just what was captured with the built-in camera microphone, so the drums/noise balance is off at times, but it gives you a good idea how loud it was.

I recommend clicking on these videos twice to watch them in YouTube, where you can view them full screen and without that annoying YouTube logo in the corner.





Also, make sure to visit www.youtube.com/user/enormousconfusion to see some other videos of Jon's, including the one he recently shot for Miles Bonny's "Yes I do" and "Looking," a humorous 10-minute film that provided me with a pleasant but eerie trip down memory lane via the Watson Library stacks.

Take care, and more about the overwhelmingly positive visit to Africa once I get some Internet back at the house and can post some photos. Postcards are being written and mailed as we speak, so don't worry, I didn't forget y'all.

Love,

LW