Tuesday, September 16, 2014

I'll Keep It With Mine


Bringing It All Back Home recording sessions, January 1965.

photo by Daniel Kramer





When in Rome

 
 Hotel Porta Maggiore, Rome, Italy
 
I like where he takes this version of "Make You Feel My Love" performed in Rome Italy,  Such a nice surprise here and there throughout the song, like walking through a city you've never been to before. I like the high notes at the end of phrases, up one street and down another.  Lucky the fan that was there in the flesh. I was in Rome once, during Easter week.  This is the hotel where we stayed.  It was a joyful, magical place and time of my life. 


 



 

 
 

Art and Reality





Monday, September 15, 2014

Rainbow and Seth - American Travelers

Thank you to my fellow blogger Trelo Giannis (Τρελο-γιάννης) for sharing this marvelous story.  Thank you also to the source Nun Nectaria (McLees)


Seth Haskins - Riding the Rails

"Twentieth-century readers knew Kerouac’s On the Road and Jack London’s earlier hobo classic, The Road, but how many of us know what the 21st-century counter-culture is up to, their life-styles and aspirations? We see the tattoos, nose-rings, attitudes, but do we hear the cries of the heart from young people searching for truth? In the following interview Rainbow (Xenia) Lundeen and Seth (John) Haskins, both baptized Orthodox after this conversation, share the by-ways they’ve taken in trying to live out the Gospel in their lives."
 
: Baptism of Rainbow (Xenia) Lundeen by Fr. Paisius Altschul 
at St. Mary of Egypt Serbian Orthodox Church, Kansas City, Missouri.

  ‘So, the train was going too fast and I got off with the leading foot and was instantly on the ground. As I was going down, I thought, “This is how people die on trains, this is how it happens.” It happened too fast to be scared, but I also knew it was too late. I didn’t die, of course, but I’d broken my back and my pelvis. Learning saw me go down and jumped off behind me with the dog and the mandolin. He helped take my pack off, then picked me up and tried to help me to the road. I couldn’t walk all the way, so he ran into town and got an ambulance. I had surgery, of course, and now I have a whopping hospital bill.

So riding trains is largely over-romanticized and I want to make sure that our lifestyle doesn’t come across like that in this article. It is a wonderfully freeing way to live, but it’s a dangerous way to live. It’s not for everyone and it’s not just a cool thing to do. Riding trains can be a status thing for some people. They think, “I’m cool because I ride trains, but you only hitch-hike. You’re not a real traveler.” I once met a kid who boasted of having ridden fifty trains in the past month. That’s like twice a day of doing nothing but riding trains for the sake of riding trains. For us it was a way to get somewhere. seth: If anyone reading this wants to be free, we’re telling them right now that they don’t have to go out and ride trains. In fact, if they feel drawn to it, I’d say “Don’t.” That’s not how it works. It’s too dangerous. “



Sunday, September 14, 2014

Exaltation of the Cross



The cross is today the universal image of Christian belief. Countless generations of artists have turned it into a thing of beauty to be carried in procession or worn as jewelry. To the eyes of the first Christians, it had no beauty. It stood outside too many city walls, decorated only with decaying corpses, as a threat to anyone who defied Rome's authority—including Christians who refused sacrifice to Roman gods. Although believers spoke of the cross as the instrument of salvation, it seldom appeared in Christian art unless disguised as an anchor or the Chi-Rho until after Constantine's edict of toleration.



 Early in the fourth century St. Helena, mother of the Roman Emperor Constantine, went to Jerusalem in search of the holy places of Christ's life. She razed the second-century Temple of Aphrodite, which tradition held was built over the Savior's tomb, and her son built the Basilica of the Holy Sepulcher over the tomb. During the excavation, workers found three crosses. Legend has it that the one on which Jesus died was identified when its touch healed a dying woman.


The cross immediately became an object of veneration. At a Good Friday celebration in Jerusalem toward the end of the fourth century, according to an eyewitness, the wood was taken out of its silver container and placed on a table together with the inscription Pilate ordered placed above Jesus' head: Then "all the people pass through one by one; all of them bow down, touching the cross and the inscription, first with their foreheads, then with their eyes; and, after kissing the cross, they move on." 




 To this day the Eastern Churches, Catholic and Orthodox alike, celebrate the Exaltation of the Holy Cross on the September anniversary of the basilica's dedication. The feast entered the Western calendar in the seventh century after Emperor Heraclius recovered the cross from the Persians, who had carried it off in 614, 15 years earlier. According to the story, the emperor intended to carry the cross back into Jerusalem himself, but was unable to move forward until he took off his imperial garb and became a barefoot pilgrim.

 

 "How splendid the cross of Christ! It brings life, not death; light, not darkness; Paradise, not its loss. It is the wood on which the Lord, like a great warrior, was wounded in hands and feet and side, but healed thereby our wounds. A tree has destroyed us, a tree now brought us life" (Theodore of Studios).


Saturday, September 13, 2014

Incredible Stigmata


Eddy and Edna by Leo
What grim machinery
enters august
bites the dust arises
wearing only hair
alone aloft and regal
speaking off the wall
of kingdom-come?

What plot thickens
and lewdly displays
incredible stigmata
as gone gone girls
dance redemptive circles
around a shard of moon?
What snake charmer
defies apprehension
mashes our potatoes
fills all our gravy boats
with iron-poor blood
and toots on his flute
“come and get it”?
What stock broker
persuades us to invest
in products of the future
while armies inconspicuous
adorn themselves for war
feeding on our disbelief
growing like a tumor
stuck in the craw of tomorrow?
by Leo (CTC)

Friday, September 12, 2014

Woody Guthrie Memorial Concert - Jan 1968


 This photo and all others on this blog post are by Elliott Landy

 The Woody Guthrie Memorial concert was a charity fund raising concert at Carnegie Hall, January 20, 1968, held in memory of Woody Guthrie's then-recent death after years of illness. The Band performed with Bob Dylan on riveting versions of "I Ain't Got No Home," "Dear Mrs. Roosevelt," and "The Grand Coulee Dam." This was Bob Dylan's first public performance after the motorcycle accident. The Band were announced under some weird name (The Crackers?) because they still did not have an official name.
 
By Sue Clark, Rolling Stone.
February 24, 1968
"Bob Dylan finally emerged from 18 months of self-imposed seclusion at the Woody Guthrie Memorial Concert in Carnegie Hall on January 20. His appearance had been announced and the two performances were sold out weeks in advance. Scalpers were reportedly getting $25.00 per ticket, and at the concert itself people were standing on the sidewalk and in the lobby begging, "Extra tickets? Any tickets for sale?"

In addition to Dylan, the memorial concert also featured Pete Seeger, Judy Collins, Woody's son Arlo Guthrie, Tom Paxton, Jack Elliot, Odetta and Richie Havens, all performing songs written by Guthrie. Before and after each song, Robert Ryan, the program's narrator, and Will Geer did readings from Guthrie's work, accompanied by slides and still photographs of his art.


The performers sat in a row across the stage, most of them resplendently dressed. Odetta wore an orange and gold striped floor-length caftan, Judy Collins sported a red rose at the neck of her long-sleeved white blouse, while Richie Havens had on a purple silk Indian shirt beneath a black Nehru suit with a long jacket. But Bob Dylan, in a gun-metal grey silk mohair suit, blue shirt with green jewels for cuff links and black suede boots as well as his new beard and moustache, was the center of attention.

Most of the artists accompanied themselves on guitar while they sang, and the others played behind them. Dylan, however, sprawled in his chair with his eyes closed, seeming to be somewhere else entirely until it was his turn to play.

The crowd had been roused by Richie Haven's rendition of "I'd Rather Drink Muddy Water," after being mesmerized by Odetta.

Then Dylan came on to do "Grand Coulee" and the reaction broke all previous bounds even before he began to sing. Playing acoustic Fender guitar and backed by another acoustic guitar — this one with an electrical pick-up — Fender bass and drums, he performed the number with a strong rock beat that had some girls in the audience boogalooing in their seats. On this and the other tunes the group performed the bassist sang harmony on the choruses — producing a unique combination with Dylan's singular voice.




"Mrs. Roosevelt" was a slower arrangement, and the "I Ain't Got No Home" was very swinging, and brought everyone to his feet, applauding as the cast went off. Dylan smiled in spite of himself at the great reaction he got to each song, but wasted no time between numbers. In spite of the opening announcement forbidding cameras and taping, there was at least one flash when Dylan began to sing. '"





 Elliott Landy


"The first time I photographed Dylan was at the Woody Guthrie Memorial Concert at Carnegie Hall in New York City in 1968. It was his first public appearance since his motorcycle accident a year earlier. He was playing with The Band, who were unknown at that time.

I was just starting my photographic career and wanted to see the show as well as take some pictures that I could sell. So I called up Dylan's office, identified myself as a photographer for an underground newspaper, and asked for two press tickets.

I brought my cameras to the concert, assuming that since they'd given me tickets as a photographer, I could take photographs. But when I got to Carnegie Hall, there were signs posted stating "No Photographs Allowed," and the ushers insisted that I check my cameras. I argued, showing my press pass and the tickets from Dylan's office, but to no avail. So I said, "OK, no pictures allowed," and checked half my cameras, but kept the other half -everything that would fit into my pockets and my date's bag.

I had a good seat near the front of the hall. Dylan came on stage, and I started snapping away, clicking my shutter only during the loud passages in order to be as discreet as possible.

After a couple of songs Arlene Cunningham, who worked for Dylan's manager, Albert Grossman, spotted me taking photographs. Soon she and Albert, whom I did not know at the time, and a guard were all waving to me from the side of the hall telling me to stop taking photographs. I pretended not to see their increasingly frantic waving.

Then Albert gestured to the guard to get me out of the seat. Meanwhile Dylan was playing with The Band, and it was very exciting. The guard came toward me. I knew what was going to happen next. They always go for your film.

So I rewound the film I had shot and gave it to my lady friend, with instructions not to give it up under any circumstances. I quickly put another roll of film into the camera. I didn't want to create a scene and disrupt the concert, so we followed the guard out into the posh, carpeted, chandeliered lobby where Albert, Arlene, and a few other people quickly surrounded us.

Albert demanded the film, and I adamantly refused, acting as if it were gold. "There's no way I'm gonna give you this film." But Arlene had seen me switch and was trying to tell him, but he was too engrossed in the mock battle I was staging. Every time I heard Arlene say, "She's got the film!", I raised my voice a bit, repeating, "You're not gonna get this film! You have no right to do this," and so on. I really carried on -I wasn't violent or nasty, just loud, to distract him from her.

While I argued with him, I held the camera in front of me, presenting it to him without being obvious about it, knowing he would grab it. Finally he did and ripped the film out, exposing it and making it even blanker, I guess. After that we left, with the film safely hidden away."