The Sean and Cheryl Show

The Sean and Cheryl Show
Originally uploaded by gwilmore

Captured last night at the Arizona Challenge ballroom competition in Scottsdale, Arizona.

How RUDE!!

As usual, I spent this past Saturday evening at a Border's outlet in Mesa, Arizona, a couple of miles from where I live; and again, as usual, I spent a considerable portion of that evening browsing through an assortment of books on photography. Sometimes I buy them, and sometimes I do nothing more than browse through the volumes, or read up on some new technique I am trying to master. (Sometimes I also fantasize about new and expensive pieces of equipment, lenses and such, to which I would very much like to receive unencumbered title in fee simple absolute.) In my own photography, I always try to capture things that are beautiful and inspiring, and by this method I continue to add, bit by bit, to my storehouse of knowledge and skill. And as I think just about everyone acquainted with me knows by now, dance photography has become one of my specialties. If I can't be out on the floor dancing, being present to photograph the event is, in my view, the next best thing, and a rather close second at that.

I also like to complain to others about "rude people" who, all too routinely, step ahead of me in line and take the pictures I want to take myself. I see these all the time in assorted books and magazines. It is true that in most cases, the pictures which thus arouse my ire and indignation have been taken in places I have never even visited; but in my view, that consideration is immaterial, as I still wanted to be the one to take the photographs in question as soon as I got around to visiting the locales where the images were captured.

The image shown here is the source of my latest complaint. This one is of the late Cyd Charisse. I discovered it during my most recent Border's visit and spent a good deal of time pondering and admiring the photo, even as I stewed over the fact that, once again, some rude individual beat me to the draw. I wish I could have taken this one myself -- and never mind that it just happens to have been taken in 1953, the year I was born.

However, perhaps I've already avenged myself of this rude photographer, who I'm sure never had the opportunity to photograph Debi in action, as I have done:

Sean and Cheryl

Sean and Cheryl
Originally uploaded by gwilmore

This photo, taken one week ago, is being uploaded for the second time. I discovered a minor flaw in it a couple of days ago, which I edited before replacing the image in my Flickr stream. Unfortunately, the blog then indicated it was no longer available, which was untrue; but here it is, in its new and slightly-edited version, for what I hope will be the viewing pleasure of all who happen to come across it. I saw Cheryl earlier today, and she absolutely loves it, and reports that her husband does, too.

New permanent link

A few days ago I joined a Flickr group called Dance.com. I immediately noticed a spike in the number of views I was getting for some of my ballroom-dance photos, which I had posted to the group as soon as I joined it. As it turns out, images posted to the group are apparently also automatically posted to a blog called -- simply and appropriately enough -- Dancer Blog. I have no objections to this, as the arrangement complies with Flickr's Terms of Use, and all of the images are linked back to my Flickr page. Besides, I know this will generate some attention from people who will appreciate my work, since the well-organized and attractive blog appears to have a large and loyal following.

I have added a permanent link to Dancer Blog to my own site, and will probably be visiting it frequently. Meanwhile, stay tuned. Two weeks ago I attended a Fred Astaire showcase at the Mesa Arts Center, from which I returned home with 292 new images, including one in particular which has a nice story behind it. I will be sharing that story here, perhaps as soon as tomorrow.

Revisiting a favorite book

I read many books, but reread few of them. One of those few is The Guns of August, by Barbara W. Tuchman, a page-turning account of the first few weeks of World War I, covering the period between Archduke Ferdinand's fateful visit to Sarajevo and Gallieni's taxicab army hurrying to face the Boche at the Marne. I read it for the first time as a second-year law student in 1981, and again several years after that, and today I purchased a new copy of it at Border's. I expect to begin rereading it tomorrow, with full assurance that I will enjoy it every bit as much this time as I did the others.

The book was published early in 1962, approximately one year into the presidency of John F. Kennedy; and JFK, a literate man with a deep appreciation of history, read it soon afterward, apparently with fortunate results for all of us. The Guns of August, an absorbing chronicle of the blunders and miscalculations on both sides that resulted in one of the greatest cataclysms of all time, influenced his handling of the Cuban missile crisis later that same year. I learned only today that Kennedy gave a copy of the book to British prime minister Harold Macmillan, along with an observation that contemporary statesmen had to find a way to avoid the mistakes and pitfalls that had characterized the disastrous summer of 1914. If it were proposed that the Constitution be amended to require all prospective U. S. Presidents to read this book, I would probably favor the idea.

Apart from its merits as a historical work, The Guns of August is also widely -- and rightly -- acclaimed as one of the 20th Century's great masterpieces of literature. It is significant that nearly all of the books I have ever read more than once are noted for having been exceptionally well-written. The English language is one of the great loves of my life, and I respect any author who knows how to use it effectively; and in such cases, I find that reading his or her work is a bit like eating a meal at a fine restaurant in Tuscany, in that one does not merely consume such a meal, one savors it, and often returns later to that same restaurant to enjoy another feast. Barbara Tuchman was such an author, and her compelling prose brings to vivid life those long-ago personalities and events: von Schlieffen and von Moltke; Sir Edward Grey; Albert, King of the Belgians; Joffre; Hindenburg and Ludendorff; Churchill; Tannenberg; Louvain; Liege; the pursuit of the Goeben and the Breslau; and on and on.

The Guns of August has long been on my short list of books I have wanted to read again, and it seems to come to my mind regularly during this particular season of the year, this being the ninety-fifth summer since the outbreak of what used to be called the Great War. It goes without saying that I look forward to enjoying it once again over the next couple of weeks. The copy I purchased today is the 1994 Ballentine paperback edition, which includes a forward by Robert K. Massie, another of my favorite historians. He relates one very significant clue as to why Tuchman was such an outstanding writer: she spent all of eight hours composing a single paragraph of her masterpiece, which happens to be its most famous paragraph and the first to appear in the entire book. It is worth sharing and savoring here:

"So gorgeous was the spectacle on the May morning of 1910 when nine kings rode in the funeral of Edward VII of England that the crowd, waiting in hushed and black-clad awe, could not keep back gasps of admiration. In scarlet and blue and green and purple, three by three the sovereigns rode through the palace gates, with plumed helmets, gold braid, crimson sashes, and jeweled orders flashing in the sun. After them came five heirs apparent, forty more imperial or royal highnesses, seven queens -- four dowager and three regnant -- and a scattering of special ambassadors from uncrowned countries. Together they represented seventy nations in the greatest assemblage of royalty and rank ever gathered in one place and, of its kind, the last. The muffled tongue of Big Ben tolled nine by the clock as the cortege left the palace, but on history's clock it was sunset, and the sun of the old world was setting in a dying blaze of splendor never to be seen again."

I recommend this book to my own readers, believing as I do that the effort would be time well and profitably spent. And as for myself, I rather doubt that this will be the last time I read it.

The Call of the Jitterbug Doll

I have added a new and very welcome link to my blog, having learned only moments ago that my friend and favorite model, Miss Amanda Lee, now has a blog of her own. Go check it out; a link is provided here, if you feel disinclined to scroll down the list to find it on your own. Amanda's pleasing visage and retro hairdos have often adorned this site, and I hope they will do so many more times in the future.

Just today, incidentally, one of my co-workers told me she had noticed that I haven't taken any new photos of Amanda in quite some time. Truth be told, in the past three weeks I have only added one new image of any kind to my Flickr stream, and that one was taken about six weeks ago. So perhaps my co-worker is right, and I need a fresh dose of inspiration, which Amanda always manages to give me whenever she is around.

The top 10 ways to destroy the earth

During an idle moment this morning, I came across this brief summary of the ten best ways to destroy Planet Earth. Notwthstanding the inherently grim nature of the subject-matter, I found the article to be quite entertaining, and so recommend it to one and all. This, in my view, would make very good material for a James Bond movie, or perhaps a Superman comic book in which Lex Luthor makes a special appearance.

My only concern about sharing this here is the possibility that Kim Jong-il, or perhaps the top muckety-mucks of some terrorist organization, might be following my blog, unbeknown to me. If that is indeed the case, and if they or any other similarly-disposed individuals happen to read this, I encourage them to go look at some of my other posts instead, preferably the ones about the wonders of ballroom dancing. I don't want them to get any bad ideas; besides, in my judgment, dancing could cure a host of the world's ills, as well as make these ten scenarios a good deal more bearable if things ever do get to that point.