View Full Version : The Studiolo

03-01-2007, 06:03 PM
The Studiolo

It was the smallest and most private of interior spaces,
the studiolo, that programmes of mythological imagery were first devised.

The Muses, who presided over learning, poetry, and music,
were a natural choice for the decoration, for the studiolo was the one room
in a palazzo where patrons could relax and play with
their intellectual toys.

Welcome to our Studiolo

Our small place for learning, poetry, music, relaxation and playing of
an intellectual manner.

Right now our studiolo is empty, let's build our perfect place. :) Nickel

03-01-2007, 06:18 PM
Raise your hand if you remember "The Willies" :)

Since I have taken back studiolo, I know I will be
followed to see where I have taken it.



A femme fatale
(plural: femmes fatales) is a character in European drama.

A stereotype, usually of a villainous woman, who misleads and ensnares the hapless hero or other males in order to achieve some end they would not freely help her achieve.

The phrase is French for "deadly woman", or "fatal woman."

The femme fatale tries to achieve her hidden purpose by using her feminine wiles (beauty, charm, sexual skill);
hence she is typically portrayed as exceptionally well-endowed with these qualities; however, in some situations lying or coercion are just as effective.

Although typically villainous, femmes fatales have also been antiheroines in some stories, and some even repent and become heroines by the end of the tale (see, for example, Bell, Book and Candle). Today, the archetype is generally seen as a character who crosses the line between good and bad and acting unscrupulously, despite social norms and any allegiance she may have to the hero.

In social life, the femme fatale tortures her lover in an asymmetrical relationship, denying confirmation of her affection. She usually drives him to the point of obsession and exhaustion so that he is incapable of rational decisions.

03-02-2007, 03:24 PM
I got the willies.

From Act II Giselle, Ballet 1841, Romanticism

An ill-fated love story from a village on the Rhine.

Act I

A young beautiful peasant girl falls in love with an aristocrat Albrecht who pretended to be a peasant to win her heart. Giselle loves to dance, but her mother Berthe warns her to beware her weak heart, lest she die from the strain. Nevertheless, Giselle dances with her lover and her friends.

Hilarion, a peasant who loves Giselle, discovers Albrecht has deceived Giselle. He is enganged to Bathilda, a beautiful noble-woman. When Giselle discovers that her lover has betrayed her with another, she rips out her hair in a fit of rage and dies of a broken heart.

Act II

A graveyard in the forest at midnight…….

Hilarion visits Giselle’s grave. He is disturbed by a sense of an ominous presence. He feels the willies and leaves. But he returns.

Giselle is called from her grave by Myrta and ordered to dance Hilarion to fatal exhaustion.

Albrecht riddled with guilt and grief visits Giselle’s grave. He feels a presence that is frightening but alluring.

Myrta orders Giselle to dance Albrecht to death. Giselle pleads to spare him, but Myrta refuses. Soon they are dancing in a mad whirl of passion. It seems Albrecht is doomed but with the sounding of the morning church bells, dawn approaches, and Albrecht is spared his life, but Giselle dances away with his heart forever.

Wilis are the ghost of tortured young women who have been jilted by their lovers before the wedding day. Nightfall is their only time to wreak havoc on men. When men come into the forest, the Willies capture them by using their feminine wiles as bait and force them to dance to their death. Any man who happens upon the Wilis between dusk and dawn is doomed by Myrta, the Queen of the Wilis and her clan of jaded spirits.

“The Hamlet of Ballet.”

“The unbridgeable gap between belief in the simple happiness of long ago places and the dark brooding disasters of unattainable love.”




03-02-2007, 03:28 PM
The Romantic Ballet

The "Romantic Movement" dominated the arts of Europe during the first half of the 19th century. Painting, music and literature were swept up in the Romantic ideals: questioning the academic rules of the past; stressing individual expression and experimentation; and moving away from classic themes to the inclusion of more local color, supernatural beings and melodrama.

Ballet was a latecomer to the Romantic style. Before that flashy virtuoso male dancing ruled the late eighteenth century ballet, with the increasing number of turns and athleticism of the male dancer ushering in the early nineteenth century. The ballets were usually transcriptions of existing stories (usually Greek or Roman myths), or dealt with pastoral scenes of shepherds and shepherdesses. Staging was elaborate and full of conventions, and the dressed wigs, full-skirted coats, heavy dresses, and high-heeled shoes did not make for easy dancing. This would all change on July 23, 1827 when Marie Taglioni danced for the first time at the Paris Opéra. One of the first to recognize the importance of Taglioni, Le Figaro wrote "Her debut will open a new epoch. It is Romanticism applied to dance…"

Taglioni's movements were considered lovelier than any before her. She could jump with a soaring lightness, she seemed to float on air, and she had perfected the art of dancing on the ends of her toes. Taglioni was not the first to dance 'en pointe'. Mme. Amalia Brugnoli had since 1822, but with an eye to astounding the audiences with her tours de force such as how long she could stay on point. Taglioni combined this technical strength with a poetic understanding and expressive language. She was the most influential dancer of her day, heralding in not only the Romantic era in dance but also other stylistic changes. It was she who first wore the long lightweight skirt that would become known as a Romantic tutu, and she established the hairstyle of the center part with the rest kept tight and close to the head.

Cyril Beaumont described the femme fatale of the Romantic era as "That elusive, fascinating, mocking vision, half woman, half goddess, which haunted the imaginations of so many poets, painters, writers, and musicians of the last century, and becoming their muse, inspired some to achieve masterpieces." Contemporary critics certainly believed ballerina Marie Taglioni embodied those and other desirable qualities.

A July 27 1840 Le Constitutional article stated ". . . a revolution against the rule of the pirouette, but a revolution that was greatly accomplished through the irresistible power and grace, perfection and beauty in art. Marie Taglioni loosened the legs, softened the muscles, gradually changed by her example the tasteless routine and unstylish attitudes, taught the art of seductive poses and correct harmonious lines, and founded the double kingdom of grace and strength, the most beautiful and most pleasing and rarest of kingdoms."

Ballet, although a latecomer to the style was mysterious and magical for its lack of the spoken word and proved to be an ideal vehicle for the Romantic pursuit of the unattainable. Also gas lighting was being introduced in theaters at that time leading to an ability to create atmosphere on stage, as well as dimmed lights in the auditorium, that created a sense of suspense.

03-02-2007, 03:30 PM

Historic Illustrations
of Dancing
from 3300 B.C. to 1911 A.D.
Respectfully dedicated to Dr. Eleanor Maxwell.


03-02-2007, 06:51 PM
Great thread Nickel, and name...;) Val

03-04-2007, 03:45 PM
Wow, Mata Hari - what a woman - she was beautiful.

I had never considered where the ballet style, hairdo etc came from.

Thanks Nickel, I will be looking for a nugget to put in our studiolo treasure

03-04-2007, 03:59 PM
The Dance Illustrations book has some wonderful pictures in it.

03-04-2007, 05:56 PM
nickel...wonderful start to this new treasure as azul called it..i have some poetry too that i would like to contribute...first i want to look and read all your contribution...thank you...tyree:angel:

03-13-2007, 09:09 AM

WE play at paste,
Till qualified for pearl,
Then drop the paste,
And deem ourself a fool.
The shapes, though were similar,
And our new hands
Learned gem-tactics
Practising sands.

03-25-2007, 12:25 AM
" The work we make, even if unnoticed and undesired by the world, vibrates in perfect harmony to everything we put into it -- or withhold from it. In the outside world there may be no reaction to what we do; in our artwork there is nothing but reaction.

The breathtakingly wonderful ting about about this reaction is its truthfulness. Look at your work and it tells you how it is when you hold back or when you embrace. When you are lazy, your art is lazy; when you hold back , it holds back; when you hesitate, it stands there staring, hands in its pockets. But when you commit, it comes on like blazes."

Art & fear - Bayles & Orland

03-25-2007, 11:21 PM
i Like Men Who Have A Future And Women Who Have A Past...oscar Wilde....

04-03-2007, 07:41 PM

by Joyce Kilmer

(For Mrs. Henry Mills Alden)

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

04-03-2007, 07:50 PM
The Tar Heel Toast

Here's to the land of the long leaf pine,
The summer land where the sun doth shine,
Where the weak grow strong and the strong grow great,
Here's to "Down Home," the Old North State!
Here's to the land of the cotton bloom white,
Where the scuppernong perfumes the breeze at night,
Where the soft southern moss and jessamine mate,
'Neath the murmuring pines of the Old North State!
Here's to the land where the galax grows,
Where the rhododendron's rosette glows,
Where soars Mount Mitchell's summit great,
In the "Land of the Sky," in the Old North State!
Here's to the land where maidens are fair,
Where friends are true and cold hearts rare,
The near land, the dear land, whatever fate,
The best land, the best land, the Old North State!

04-04-2007, 11:02 AM
ahhh, perfumed scupprnogs and whispering pines, don't forget the fiddling pulse of the cicaida's in the summer fields :heart:

04-04-2007, 11:07 AM
I read this from Harold Speed morning . It is followed by an engendered idea/vision.

"But these moments, these flashes of inspiration which are at the inception of every vital picture, occure but seldom. What the painter has to do is to fix them ivividly in his memory, to snapshot them, as it were, so that they may stand by him during the toilsome procedure of the painting, and guide the work." ( H.Speed pg 258 Practice and Science of Drawing)

The artist wearing rags but stitching a gown, slips off to the ball to dance with the Prince in the presence of the unknowing three paralyzing stepsisters - fear, pride,& covetousness. - robin

04-04-2007, 06:27 PM

These lines are a beautiful example of the Metaphysical School, a group of poets who were ostasized by the in crowd at Vanderbilt in the 1930's. Hubert, Buster, Clyde and Virgel were the founders of the Metaphysical School. They settled in Bulls Gap in 1942, drawn to the ignorance and backwardness of the people of East Tennessee. They all dispensed with family names, quite convinced that their given names, after the example of "Rembrandt," was more than sufficient to distinguish them from all other men in the world; those of history, and those yet unborn. These poets, so isolated from the rest of the world, had a bizarre view of the rest of the world, which was manifested in thier metaphysical lyrics. For 30 years their unflagging creativity, their very existence, was unrecognized. They all died quietly of natural causes, with local opinion holding there is nothing unnatural about corn from a jar. In 1995 a rising young star in the English Department of Elon College, under the secret sponsorship of the Smithsonian Institute, went to Bulls Gap in search of manuscripts. This was instantly picked up on the radar at Vanderbilt and that revered institution sent their own scavenger to Bulls Gap in heated competition for acquisitions.

But I was years ahead of them. All poems written by the Metaphysical School are the sole legal property of Saintluke's guild, Murfreesboro, TN.

04-12-2007, 04:58 PM
If you bring forth what is within you, What is within you will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, What is within you will destroy you...The lost gospel of the apostle Thomas

04-12-2007, 11:36 PM

Dulce et Decorum est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in.
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

-- Wilfred Owen (1917)

from http://www.jssgallery.org/Paintings/Gassed/Gassed.htm

04-14-2007, 03:50 PM
What a wonderful addition to the classical studio, way to go Nickel.

Saint Luke, this is a fascinating story of the common artist snubbed by the elite rising above to create their own elite class and social circle. Sounds a bit like grade school clicks. Is this for real and can you share more? You have piqued my interest.

04-14-2007, 04:51 PM
:lol: Oh Barbara,

This is all invention. A lurid example of my infamous whacky humor that often runs amok. I have this sickly affinity for the preposterous, and sometimes words come tumbling out of my head with no control on my part. I'm pleased it piqued your interest. So often these sallies cause resentment or a perplexed frown. Nickel is gradually getting acclimated to me. stlukesguild the pretender is finally realizing his every assumption of me proves false. Poor Tyree stays very clear, like I am a pit bull dog eying her from behind a chain link fence.

However, there is another lyric from the Metaphysical School of Bulls Gap. "I Wonder What I Promised Her Last Night?" Being a Calif. woman, you might relate to it. The theme is sufficiently universal, and because of that existential. In fact, the sentiment is so plaintive it might even penetrate the defensive shield of Tyree. I will be happy to discuss this further with you. With all my ladies, should they be so inclined. :lol:

04-14-2007, 07:59 PM
However, there is another lyric from the Metaphysical School of Bulls Gap. "I Wonder What I Promised Her Last Night?"


04-14-2007, 09:53 PM
Oh you are a mess...:lol: In his defense, clothing style for females at that time was 15 underskirts starting below the bust line and hanging to the floor. Just in case you weren't aware of that. :smug:

04-15-2007, 08:17 PM
Hi Nickel

Just dropping by, returning your visit. I hope it's ok to post these few lines from the opening scene of Dear Brutus in your studiolo...



By J.M. Barrie


The scene is a darkened room, which the curtain reveals so stealthily that if there was a mouse on the stage it is there still. Our object is to catch our two chief characters unawares; they are Darkness and Light.

The room is so obscure as to be invisible, but at the back of the obscurity are French windows, through which is seen Lob's garden bathed in moon-shine. The Darkness and Light, which this room and garden represent, are very still, but we should feel that it is only the pause in which old enemies regard each other before they come to the grip. The moonshine stealing about among the flowers, to give them their last instructions, has left a smile upon them, but it is a smile with a menace in it for the dwellers in darkness. What we expect to see next is the moonshine slowly pushing the windows open, so that it may whisper to a confederate in the house, whose name is Lob. But though we may be sure that this was about to happen it does not happen; a stir among the dwellers in darkness prevents it.

These unsuspecting ones are in the dining-room, and as a communicating door opens we hear them at play. Several tenebrious shades appear in the lighted doorway and hesitate on the two steps that lead down into the unlit room. The fanciful among us may conceive a rustle at the same moment among the flowers. The engagement has begun, though not in the way we had intended.

Full text of Dear Brutus from Project Gutenberg (http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/4021)

04-17-2007, 02:35 PM
Once I dreamed...I was famous...and everywhere my name was known...My face...so familiar...on magazine covers I was shown...Once I dreamed...I was a dancer...my grace...every movement a delight... A star...world renown...my name ablaze with light...Once I dreamed...I lived in a palace...I was a queen...a world at my feet... I ruled a kingdom...so wise... and never knew defeat...Once I dreamed...I had a true love...bold and tall...running to me...And in his eyes...all his love...for me only to see...I dreamed...All these things...before my dreams were finally done...Suddenly old...and knew all these things I had none...But once I dreamed...Sally Tyree Smith... (This was a poem written for me by my mother..she was a published author)...:heart:

04-17-2007, 05:33 PM
Great posts,

St luke - I don't think the lady is struggling with her petticoats

Mary - that is an intriguing excerpt - I am not famaliar with that story

Tyree - thanks for sharing that poem by your mom/author -

04-19-2007, 12:09 AM
Originally posted by azulparsnip
Mary - that is an intriguing excerpt - I am not famaliar with that story

Thanks Azul. I've been reading J.M. Barrie's plays since my teens, and Dear Brutus has always seemed to me his best. It's funny and sad and very human. I think he comes out of copyright later this year having died in 1937 so there miight be a revival, if not on stage then certainly in print, which IMO is the best. The way he wrote the plays, they're just wonderful for a reader.

04-27-2007, 10:45 AM
Hi Mary, a warm welcome to you!


A friend passed this to me.

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle,
when 24 hours in a day are not enough,
remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and
had some items in front of him.
When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and
empty mayonnaise jar and
proceeded to fill it with golf balls.
He then asked the students if the jar was full.
They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and
poured them into the jar.
He shook the jar lightly.
The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.
He then asked the students again if the jar was full.
They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and
poured it into the jar.
Of course, the sand filled up everything else.
He asked once more if the jar was full.
The students responded with an unanimous "yes."

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from
under the table and poured the entire contents into
the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.
The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor as the laughter subsided,

"I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.
The golf balls are the important things---
your family, your health, your friends and your favorite passions---and
if everything else was lost and only they remained ,
your life would still be full.

"The pebbles are the other things that matter like
your job, your house and your car.
The sand is everything else -- the small stuff.

"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued,
"there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.
The same goes for life.
If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff
you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

"Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.

Play with your children.
Spend time with your parents.
Visit with grandparents.
Take time to get medical checkups.
Take your spouse out to dinner.
Play another 18.

I'll add this, make your art! :)

There will always be time to clean the house and
fix the disposal.

Take care of the golf balls first---
the things that really matter.
Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."

One of the students raised her hand and inquired
what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked!
It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem,
there's always room for a cup of coffee with a friend."

06-14-2007, 07:41 PM

"a rival to that of Solomon,

erected by some ancient Michelangelo . . .

it is grander than anything left

to us by Greece and Rome,"


Angkor Vat

07-31-2007, 10:40 AM
The Owl-Critic

James T. Fields

"WHO stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop:
The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop;
The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading
The "Daily," the "Herald," the "Post," little heeding
The youthful man who blurted out such a blunt question;
Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion;
And the barber kept on shaving.

"Don't you see, Mister Brown,"
Cried the youth, with a frown,
"How wrong the whole thing is,
How preposterous each wing is,
How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is--
In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 't is!
I make no apology;
I've learned owl-eology.
I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections,
And cannot be blinded to any deflections
Arising from unskilled fingers that fail
To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail.
Mister Brown! Mister Brown!
Do take that bird down,
Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town!"
And the barber kept on shaving.

"I've studied owls,
And other night fowls,
And I tell you
What I know to be true:
An owl cannot roost
With his limbs so unloosed;
No owl in this world
Ever had his claws curled,
Ever had his legs slanted,
Ever had his bill canted,
Ever had his neck screwed
Into that attitude.
He can't do it, because
'Tis against all bird-laws.
Anatomy teaches,
Ornithology preaches
An owl has a toe
That can't turn out so!
I've made the white owl my study for years,
And to see such a job almost moves me to tears!
Mister Brown, I'm amazed
You should be so gone crazed
As to put up a bird
In that posture absurd!
To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness;
The man who stuffed him don't half know his business!"
And the barber kept on shaving.

"Examine those eyes.
I'm filled with surprise
Taxidermists should pass
Off on you such poor glass;
So unnatural they seem
They'd make Audubon scream,
And John Burroughs laugh
To encounter such chaff.
Do take that bird down;
Have him stuffed again, Brown!"
And the barber kept on shaving.

"With some sawdust and bark
I could stuff in the dark
An owl better than that.
I could make an old hat
Look more like an owl
Than that horrid fowl,
Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather.
In fact, about him there's not one natural feather."

Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch,
The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch,
Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic
(Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic,
And then fairly hooted, as if he should say:
"Your learning's at fault this time, any way;
Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray.
I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good-day!"
And the barber kept on shaving.

07-31-2007, 08:01 PM

"a rival to that of Solomon,

erected by some ancient Michelangelo . . .

it is grander than anything left

to us by Greece and Rome,"


Angkor Vat

I've been there!!!! Oh the stories I could tell you. And I will, this winter, if you promise to bake me a blackberry cobbler and keep seasoned hickory logs blazing the in fireplace.

07-31-2007, 11:15 PM
That's a reasonable request ........I hope you got pictures. :)

08-02-2007, 11:31 AM
20.1 Hands

They say it might be in the grass..........:eek:

meet Tina in this video


The world's largest horse :thumbsup: An English Shire in Niota, Tenn


08-02-2007, 03:17 PM
Yep. Big horses, big men, big women. Tennessee is the land of the Titans. Takes advanced drawing skill to reduce any of them to a standard sheet of drawing paper. We also grow 1000 lb pumkins 20 ft in diameter. Takes two of our big men to lift it and one of our big men to carve it ino a jack'o lantern.

08-03-2007, 10:59 AM
Yep. Big horses, big men, big women. Tennessee is the land of the Titans. Takes advanced drawing skill to reduce any of them to a standard sheet of drawing paper. We also grow 1000 lb pumkins 20 ft in diameter. Takes two of our big men to lift it and one of our big men to carve it ino a jack'o lantern.:eek: :lol:

08-05-2007, 08:23 AM
Saint Luke - where exactly is that a photo of??? looks like quite a number of muses hang around there.......

We lived in Hohenwald, Tennessee one summer.....it was beautiful. Now Kingsport is the armpit of the nation, really........

08-05-2007, 08:24 AM
enjoyed the video about Tina the horse. Horses thourghly intimidate me.

08-06-2007, 07:44 AM
Here's a fun and enthusiastic video - runs 5 minutes - Have a good day:wave:


08-13-2007, 01:45 AM
Nickel what a nice little place to come and relax, thank you for inviting us.

Here is an incredible artist, see the video at the bottom of page and spend a while looking at all his other pieces.


and in keeping with his painting I post one of my own poems.

Mother’s Fear

With strangled fingers upon her knees
The rocker sighs quietly - back and forth
Tears suspended from eyes full of pleas
As they quest urgently to the road north

The road hazes a swelling dust cloud
Her breath stills, motion stop - spirits rise
Hand to her breast she feels her heart pound
How to deal with it – what would be wise

He returns from a country - torn asunder
Where war and strife has altered so much
Is he filled with blame, for it was no blunder
A hero returns, with scars and a patch

A boy once left now returns as a man
More has been suffered than he should bear
Will he still say, “It’s easy, I can”
Will he say “Things change, I no longer care”

Without hesitation his eyes glued to her face
He hurries towards her his smile alight
And even though he has lost some grace
From within he conquered the emotional fight

Her youngest is folded in protective arms
A flood of tears – weakness – relief
Her fears dispelled - her mind – her heart calms
Her boy is home and restored her belief


08-13-2007, 10:07 PM
Saint Luke - where exactly is that a photo of??? looks like quite a number of muses hang around there.......

Azulparsnip don't know where Luke is :confused:

The photo is
Angkor Wat

Here is a link to information about this place

08-13-2007, 10:18 PM
Nickel what a nice little place to come and relax, thank you for inviting us.

Anghwar, I am glad you found this place and made yourself at home. Your poem is soft and touching and seems to speak for all mothers. I visited the link, August there is fire month. Made me think of red, lol.

08-13-2007, 10:28 PM
Here's a fun and enthusiastic video - runs 5 minutes - Have a good day:wave:


Azulparsnip, one, I don't know how I missed this, two, I wouldn't won't to wash his clothes, three, I can't do what he's doing upside down, and four, gives new meaning to negative space and a toned ground. :p I would like to have his scarf for some strange reason. If he rode in my car he'd have to sit on towels.

08-13-2007, 11:01 PM

Sooner or later I will join the Red Hat Soc :lol: , so I may as well practice getting used to red. red :heart: , red :mad: , red :evil: ooh I like the little devil. :lol:

Glad you enjoyed the poem.


12-30-2007, 01:25 PM
Auld lang syne (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsjuBroVT4o) by Fretkillr (http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=Fretkillr)


Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min’?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o’ lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae run about the braes,2
And pu’d the gowans3 fine,
But we’ve wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin’ auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidled I’ the burn,4
From morning sun till dine,5
But seas between us braid6 hae roared,
Sin’ auld lange syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,7
And gie’s a hand o’thine;
And we’ll tak a right gude-willie waught,8
For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp,9
And surely I’ll be mine;
And we’ll tak a cup o’kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

1. Lang Syne. Long ago
2. braes. Slopes
3. gowans. Daisies
4. twa…burn. Two have paddled in the stream
5. dine. Dinner
6. braid. Broad
7. fiere. Friend
8. gude-willie waught. A big swig
9. be your pint-stowp. Pay for your pint-cup

Robert Burns 1759-1796
The National Poet of Scotland.


Tynemouth Lighthouse
Robert Salmon - 1836

triva about auld lang syne from wikipedia
The song features prominently (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auld_Lang_Syne) - under the name of The Farewell Waltz - in the film Waterloo Bridge (1940), starring Vivien Leigh and Robert Taylor. It is arguably one of the most memorable and best-loved sequences of the film. The Triad Trilogy Infernal Affairs uses the tune in the second film when a triad has finished killing a gang boss. It also signifies the event of Hong Kong's transfer to China in 97, with the fictional eradication of many gang bosses. The American PBS television series Great Performances program titled "Garrison Keillor’s New Year’s Eve Special" 2006/7 had the audience sing an adaptation of the lyrics with a humorous last verse: "I think of all the great, high hearts I had when I was young / And now who are these sad old farts I find myself among?" Nobel Laureate Poet Rabindranath Tagore's poem Purano Shei Diner Kotha is traditionally sung in a tune inspired by the tune of Auld Lang Syne. The last line of the chorus is frequently mis-sung by crowds and untrained groups as for the sake of Auld Lang Syne. This is partly because the words themselves are not understood, but also because it has become common practice. It is rarely (if ever) incorrectly performed by trained choirs. The song is sung at the end of the Last Night of the Proms by the audience (rather than the performers). As such it is never listed on the official programme. The melody is also featured at the beginning of the Tom Waits song 'A Sight For Sore Eyes' The song is sung in many of the films produced by Frank Capra, including It's a Wonderful Life, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Dan Fogelberg recorded a hit song called "Same Old Lang Syne", on his 1981 album The Innocent Age. Interestingly, the song was about encountering an old lover not on New Year's Eve, but on Christmas Eve. In the 1942 re-release of the Charlie Chaplin film The Gold Rush with added sound, the song is sung at a New Year's Eve party. It is not certain if the same song was sung when the original silent film was released in 1925. The song is played in When Harry Met Sally, the New Year's party in which Harry states he never fully understood what the song meant and says "I mean, 'Should old acquaintance be forgot'? Does that mean that we should forget old acquaintances, or does it mean if we happened to forget them, we should remember them, which is not possible because we already forgot?" Cliff Richard sang the Lord's Prayer to the melody of Auld Lang Syne in his Christmas song "The Millennium Prayer". Sofie Fatale's cell phone ringtone is Auld Lang Syne in the film Kill Bill Volume 1. IDW Publishing has released a comic story arc using the Characters from Joss Whedon's Angel: The Series. This Series is called Angel: Auld Lang Syne. The melody to "Auld Lang Syne" is thought to be a strong candidate for the solution to Sir Edward Elgar's "Enigma"; that is, he said that the theme of his Op. 36 Variations was actually a countermelody to some other well-known tune, but he never revealed what the popular tune was. Near the end of Ghostbusters II, the people of New York City sing "Auld Lang Syne", which weakens the evil Viggo the Carpathian's power enough to be defeated. American guitarist Jimi Hendrix played Auld Lang Syne as the opening of his second set at the Fillmore East, December 31, 1969-January 1, 1970 Irish rock group A.E.R use Auld Lang Syne as the intro and hook of their song "Time Goes By". Ironically, the songwriter had the idea of using it while thinking "What can we do that Jimi Hendrix didn't?". He only found out that Jimi Hendrix actually did, 3 days after recording it. This is the last song sung at every commencement for Fairleigh Dickinson University Friedrich Silcher, a German songwriter, born at the time when Robert Burns died, translated 'Auld Lang Syne' into German language ('Soll's alte Herz vergessen sein') which is probably the best translation of this song into a foreign language.[citation needed] In both The Poseidon Adventure (film) and Poseidon (film), the ship's singer leads the crowd with the singing of "Auld Lang Syne", before the ship is capsized by a rogue wave. The University Of Virginia's alma mater, the Good Ol' Song, is sung to the tune of Auld Lang Syne. The song Forever by HURT (band) references the Auld Lang Syne in its lyrics. A variation on the melody of the song is heard in the John Phillip Sousa march Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company. Every year, on his New Year television show, Jools Holland and his rhythm and blues orchestra play Auld Lang Syne on the bagpipes and the audience sing along. In the series The Best Years, Samantha recalls when she played on the piano Auld Lang Syne

till next year........dance :thumbsup:

12-30-2007, 01:58 PM
just one more thing :wave:

Dream A Little Dream Of Me (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvQ3iCx_K78)

12-31-2007, 11:14 AM
http://www.wetcanvas.com/Community/images/31-Dec-2007/65063-croc_wondergardens.jpg a big thank you...to the wonderful guides and moderators in this forum for the great year in art...looking forward to many challenges in 2008...happy new year!!!! ...the american crocodile!!!!! tyree :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap:

12-31-2007, 05:21 PM
Hear ye, hear ye!

Ditto head to Tyree. :clap: Our guides and moderators are a grand lot aren't they. Just imagine the strain of keeping a lid on the likes of me and Keron, not to mention stluke the pretender. But my new years resolution is to be nice to art historians. Nickel inspired me with her research into Auld lang Synge. :music: Should auld acquaintence...:music:

12-31-2007, 09:11 PM
Remind me not to trick or treat at Susan's home.
What a gator! :thumbsup:

Luke, I've hear you :music: :wave:
I think after five wives your lid was long gone before you showed up around here! :lol: