1910, Brittany. First row, seated, l. to r. great-uncle Philippe, great-aunt Jeanne, my great-grandmother Wilhelmine, “auntie” Irene. Second row, standing: “auntie” Daisy, my grandmother Julie, and great-uncle Jean. When my great-grandfather, Henry-Felix died in India at the end of the 19th century, great-grandma Wilhelmine (Kaiser Wilhelm was very popular in the British Empire until WWI) packed all but one of her dozen kids to Brittany. “Home”? Not really. All were born in India and were trilingual, French, English and Hindustani. India was more like “home”. Philippe was the youngest. Later served in WWI. Did he cross path with my other grandfather? Jeanne was a nurse in WWI. Irene was the prettiest. Married a Count I believe. Jean only showed his left profile to the camera on all photos. He’d been badly mauled and disfigured by a panther in India, tearing all the right side of his face and right eye. In 1910, all women wore long hair and long skirts. See my grandmother, Julie, 3rd from the right?
1918. Egypt, Suez canal. Left to right: my father Cyril, (he’d have been a hundred years next year), grandmother Julie, and aunt Gaud (without the fancy shoes). My grandmother had already cut her hair. The skirt would follow shortly. A revolution for the women of that time. Most historians agree that the 19th century only ended in 1918.
Dogon mask, West Africa. Most likely from the 50’s or 60’s. De Young museum, San Francisco, 2016.
The Devil’s residence, Paris. 2015. Amazon has canceled all deliveries: is the address 14 or 20?
“I‘ve Seen better days”. Traditional house, Tolima province, Colombia. 2014. The house probably dates back to the late 19th, early 20th century.
Walking down the streets of Montmartre. 2016. “Le petit moulin” means the small mill. Above and below:
Brewery, Washington DC. 2017. (c) Gini.
“One cappuccino to go, Sir?” Tlalpan, Mexico city. 2017. I’m sorry to report that this cute little café has been shut down by the authorities…
Montmartre of course. 2016.
Kingfisher, 2017. I just painted this last week as a farewell gift to Daughter # 2, en route to Indonesia. I hadn’t drawn or painted anything in, what, fifty years? Strange how the hand remembers things the head doesn’t. Beware: I might open up a new section: drawings by B.
This is the graveyard wall in Tlalpan, Mexico city. In the wake of Irma, a good bit of that wall fell off:
See the graves beyond the gap to the left? The wall apparently fell on the little red car. Look closely. Taken only yesterday. Can’t help but think of the terrifying power of Nature. Irma is roaming thousands of miles away. And yet, its wagging tail flooded Mexico city on Wednesday night. Best wishes to the people in Florida and Georgia. Board up and leave. Please. No need to expose oneself.
San Francisco. 2016.
Chevrolet Bel Air 1953. Mexico city. Pristine condition. (‘Wish I could say the same, we are different models, different factories, from the same year.) Found the car by chance yesterday.
Thank you for flying with us. Captain reports the earthquake last night was quite strong, 8.2 on the Richter scale. The ’85 ‘quake in Mexico city that took 10 to 15,000 lives was 8.5. Fortunately, though the house shook quite a bit, we are all right, and it seems there are only very few casualties.
Again, those of you in the Caribbeans and Florida, Georgia, the South in general: be safe. And a lovely week-end to all.
PS. Breaking news. The Orange man’s house in Saint-Martin appears to have been totally destroyed. Yes!