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Automata are non-electronic moving machines that, in ancient times, were used either as toys, or idols or to demonstrate basic scientific principles.

Art and design website Colossal carries images and a video of Dutch artist Levi van Veluw’s newest creation, in wood (originally sourced from Faith Is Torment). There is something fascinating and beautiful about the intricacy of its mechanical design and I can only marvel at the skill of people with the talent and patience to make things such as this.

 

It is sometimes shocking to sit and think how quickly technology has come on in just a few short years. Photography is something I have always enjoyed, being brought up on Dad’s slides and even his own attempts to create a dark room in the attic.

I remember my first Kodak camera with its stacked, one-use-per-bulb flash, and how proud I was to finally be able to take my own pictures. It had no zoom, no focus and used what I regarded as proper film. (Funny how whatever it is you start with you regard as proper film, at least until you grow up and start using standard 35mm.) I remember, too, getting my first Olympus, sadly rarely used, and the pictures I took with it on my honeymoon less than ten years ago, when there was no imminent prospect of digital superseding plastics and silver salts.

Now, most of us have phones that can take better pictures than even the most expensive digital cameras of ten years ago, with top-end digital cameras such as the Canon EOS 7D or EOS 5D Mk II being so sophisticated that they can replace movie cameras, opening up the world of movie-making to amateurs the world over.

The Light Farm are an enthusiast co-operative “dedicated to the renaissance of handcrafted silver gelatin emulsions”.  They have got their hands on a historic film by Kodak, which details the process of making film.

Enjoy.

I often spend my Sunday evenings soaked in wine and good conversation, some beautiful opera or song playing as the fire crackles and the chatter fades away to a more melancholic reflection. Such moments reveal the beauty and versatility of the human voice. It’s an instrument you can take anywhere to entertain and enthrall. Whether it is using their vocal chords to imitate a musical instrument, an electronic drum kit or merely another voice, the Internet reveals plenty of examples out there of incredible vocal talent, not all as obvious as you might first imagine.

Here are some of my favourites that celebrate our most portable and personal of instruments.

Queens of the Night

Mozart’s Aria, Der Hölle Rache, is one of the most notoriously demanding for a female soprano, hitting the high F two octaves above middle C – very rare for opera. Here are four of my favourite performances – from one regarded as near perfect (Diana Damrau) to arguably the worst recording ever – Florence Foster Jenkins, all via two extraordinary impromptu performances from youngsters.

The human beat-boxes

These four take having a sense of rhythm to a whole new level. The range of sounds and noises they produce is quite extraordinary.

The impressionists

Every since I was a kid I have been fascinated with impersonating other voices. I have had a stab at it myself and can manage a fairly credible Iain Paisley and, after a whisky or three, a fairly menacing Clint. These four, though, are something else, impersonating everything from cartoon characters and singers to zebras and car engines.

The instrument impersonators

After a few beers I do quite a good guitar solo impression from Stairway to Heaven. I also do a pretty mean trumpet impression, especially if it’s a brass band take on Abide With Me. My guitar and trumpet impressions are nothing compared to these two, though.

The singers

And so, full circle, to singing and the simple joy of making a beautiful sound. From two Asian unknowns to Callas and Pavarotti, the world has been privileged to enjoy some truly beautiful voices, from all walks of life.

Movember is the month of moustache-growing madness, raising awareness particularly for prostate cancer and other cancers affecting men. An international movement, in the UK Movember ‘taches can even be found sprouting in the corridors of Westminster.

Moustaches may not be the most fashionable look, but there’s no doubting their pedigree. From musicians to scientists to movie stars, from revolutions to civil wars to world wars, there are examples of memorable moustaches throughout history. Writing in the Daily Mail in 2008, Piers Brendon even attributes “the humble moustache” with a key role in the success of the British Empire (How the moustache won an empire).

The 2011 World Beard and Moustache Championships produced some stunning and bizarre examples of upper-lip facial hair, with numerous categories for competitors to enter and strict rules on how they should be grown. Patrick Gorman, overall winner in the moustache category, told the Arizona Daily Star that he wouldn’t be defending his title next year in Las Vegas – so there is hope for the rest of us yet.

For those engaged in Movember 2011, and who might be flagging a little with the bristly scratch of your new growth, here are some iconic ‘taches to keep you motivated.

I might give it a go next year…

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I’ve mentioned my love of illusions before.

One of the things that has captivated me since I first stumbled across it online is that genre of art where artists compose 3D illusions on pavements, usually out of chalk. There is something genuinely fascinating about the way the brain tricks the eye and some of the pictures are simply genius.

A number of those below are by the Belgium-based British artist Julian Beever, whose work has become world-renowned. According to his own website, he has been creating street art like this for over twenty years. However, it’s only in the age of the Internet, that people have been able to showcase work that is often ephemeral, washed away with the next big downpour.

The YouTube clip, below the gallery, shows the construction and reaction to a piece of work created in the centre of Stolkholm by Erik Johansson, a Swedish artist. His giant artwork was covered by various newspapers around the world, including Metro.

For all its beauty, street art remains controversial, being regarded by many as graffiti. I enjoy the anarchic beauty of it, however, and its potential for breaking up the grey angularity of so many of our modern urban spaces.

Enjoy.

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Lego lunacy

A friend’s Facebook update reminded me how much I used to love Lego® as a kid.

Lego was kept in a special box (and, latterly, when I needed additional storage, an old Quality Street tin). It was a green-coloured wooden box that Granddad had made specially, with brass hinges and brass hooks, and numerous internal compartments. From time to time I would sort the various bricks and planks into types, putting them in different sections. It’s what probably led me to insist on alphabetising my CD and DVD collections…

The living room now looking like an explosion in a Lego factory, I would build space stations in the vicinity of the neighbourhood Lego garage, with spaceships to explore the strange new world of the Christmas tree, its lights twinkling away like stars and its glass baubles dangling like asteroids. Back then, most of the pieces weren’t pre-moulded and so you had to be inventive with the bits you did have to create wings, cockpits, laser cannons etc. Lighting bricks, with a cleverly concealed battery pack, lent these Lego landscapes an eerie quality, especially in the dark, with Lego figurines casting four-inch shadows on the plastic tarmac.

Skip forward twenty years and stop-motion animators have had a world of fun with Lego.

Here are four of my favourites: The Battle For Helm’s Deep (by TXsamwise), Star Wars – The Elevator (by obibrickkenobi), The Letter (by JamesFM) and The Ninja Fight (byLegoDude8000).

We had a delivery of logs this morning and, singledom introducing a whole new desire to shape up and get fit, I stuck my headphones on – Whitesnake, Alice Cooper and Biffy Clyro  - and threw myself into the log heap.

As I worked up a sweat, stacking them against the side of the house, I couldn’t help but be reminded of a cold January Saturday in 1986, when several friends and I caught the bus to Romford to watch a film that epitomises the Hollywood of 80s America: Rocky IV. I’d been seduced by the idea of America years before, Star Wars, Raiders, the A-Team, the Dukes of Hazzard, T J Hooker, Star Trek etc all doing exactly what they were supposed to do and brain-washing me into believing that only American things were real and “proper”. As ever, as an overly impressionable 14 year-old, I was blown away and Rock IV was my new best movie of all time.

Of course, having seen it several times since,  through the boring filter of being “all growed up”, it is a crap film with some cheesily memorable moments that capture something that appeals to single blokes with an ab obsession – and those with a fascination for Hollywood grotesque. It also captures – as it was designed to do – the geo-politics of the day, with a ruthless, towering Russian pitted against the smaller American hero. Along the way, Ivan Drago (could you make up a more evil-sounding Russian name?!) kills Rocky’s friend, the famous Apollo Creed (introduced by a Spandex-suited James Brown in one of the most over-the-top character entrances ever), and so loyalty, honour and revenge are all qualities tested to Hollywood destruction.

So far, so cheesy, but the film does contain some clever cultural inversions, not least of all in the training montage, where the Russians are portrayed as being in possession of sports technology years ahead of its time (some twenty years, apparently, according to  a paper entitled Rocky IV – Fight Medicine presented to the University of Texas Health Science Centre), whilst Rocky has to rely on a simple wood cabin in the wilds of Russia, felling trees, sawing timber, humping logs and running through the snow. And whilst the claims of some on the Interwebz that Rocky IV ended the Cold War are probably exaggerated, there is a certain amount of fun to be had in seeing the Politburo rise to cheer Rocky’s final speech:

[Addressing the Soviet crowd, translated into Russian line by line by announcer]
Rocky: During this fight, I’ve seen a lot of changing, in the way you feel about me, and in the way I feel about you. In here, there were two guys killing each other, but I guess that’s better than twenty million. I guess what I’m trying to say, is that if I can change, and you can change, everybody can change!
[loud applause, even by the Politburo]

Go, Rocky!

There’s lots that could be said about Rocky IV as a propaganda film or even just as a reflection of the geo-political uncertainty of the time. Observations could be made about American insecurity, perceptions of Russia and that general staple of American culture (film in particular) of the individual pitted against the world – and winning.

In the end, though, I was  thinking substitute Russian landscape-double Wyoming for Langdon Hills and a Hillcroft log-stack and hell, yeah, I could be Rocky, too!

Here are the two most iconic moments of that film as far as I am concerned: the entrance of Apollo Creed and Rocky’s training montage. Enjoy the 80s’ cheese.

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