Praying, variously

I had been intending to write a little blog about the culture of "small cars" here in Southern California until yesterday, when I came upon this praying mantis on the lawn outside of the Huntington Library.

I had never seen one of these beasts before, and I had always thought they were green. A little web research (such as it is) informs me that female praying mantises are green, while those that are tan and stick-like—i.e. our friend here—are the gentlemen of the species. It was incredible to see this creature, which was probably about five inches long, move across the grass using its folded arms for support in negotiating the turf.

Following the "rustle of language" as old friend Roland used to call it, we might liken this mode of turf-negotiation to the aforementioned carts that seem to dominate these parts. Of course you will be familiar with the myths of Los Angeles and its car culture—how it subdivides not only the landscape but the population itself, alienating and scattering, leaving LA as "fifty two suburbs in search of a city."

Well, what has struck me is the specialization of these carts. Example? Well, I wasn't able to get a shot of this one from the correct direction, but on the passenger side was an inscription of dedication from some noble, charitable organization written in chaste white lettering. Directly to the left of said donor's inscription was the christened name of the cart—written both in quotation marks and shadowed italic script: "Pedro." As you may be able to guess from the photo, the gents who use and may well identify with "Pedro" are gardeners of the Latino persuasion. "Pedro" has been kitted out to accommodate their tools.

In other words, "Pedro" is visibly different in form and function from this "executive" model; let's call him "Anderson." Examples could be multiplied: I have seen various kinds of library carts, maintenance carts, construction worker carts, etc. In the present political climate, it's hard not to connect the dots between these named objectifications of professional/class identities and, say, the nearly-completed fifteen minutes of "Joe the Plumber."

All of this brings me back to the theme announced by our praying mantis and the wonderful, rapturous button I recently saw on an elevator. May it be so!

Work and Life in So-Cal

Should you want to see some pictures of what Pasadena looks like from an office loggia looking north toward the San Gabriel mountains ...




or if you want to see some pictures of our new house in Echo Park, have a gander. We have the little "guest house" in back ...




... and this is the front lawn, in between us and the "big house."



Here's a view of the back of our house.



And here's a picture of our street. Fun! (But not really a blog. My bad!)

Green Papagallos, Murua, and so forth

Well, if you are still a reader of Old Ken's blog—and such is the only possible reason yours truly can imagine for your coming across of this fine rappin'—you may remember that a few years back, I shared with you some news about a little conference up in Cambridge. This was with our friends, those historians of Latin American art history.

But, if you ain't and you just want to hear a good yarn, well put your feet up and get ready for some fun.



Where to start? Well, as you may recall, a Spanish Mercedarian friar Martin de Murua was kicking around the Peruvian highlands in the 1590s. Somewhere along the lines, he had learned to draw and he decided that he wanted to write a chronicle of the Spaniards in South America. While working on this project, he met a native Andean artist named Guaman Poma de Ayala whose artistry we see above.

With Guaman Poma, Murua drafted an illustrated "general history" that he intended to publish in Spain upon his return there. However, for a series of complicated reasons, this publication didn't happen in Murua's lifetime and his illustrated manuscript is now in the Getty Museum (where it's called the "Getty Murua"). Well, in the interim, Murua and Guaman Poma had a falling out of some kind. Guaman Poma went on to write and illustrate his own critique of the spanish presence in the Andes, the Nueva coronica y buen gobierno.



Well, thanks to our friend Juan Ossio (illustrated above), the story is about to get a whole lot more interesting. If (I guess I should add) you like stories like this. About twenty years ago, Señor Juan discovered a third manuscript from the Guaman Poma/Murua collaboration in a castle in Ireland.



Through the offices of other dear friends including Señor Cummins, Professor Ossio was able to persuade the Irish owner to lend this third manuscript - - the "Galvin Murua" - - to the Getty for a year of intensive scientific study and scholarly comparison with the Getty Murua. An exhibition and conference followed, which have been massive hits. Apparently, the exhibition, "The Marvel and Measure of Peru" - - a relatively small show in the Getty's Library - - has attracted over four thousand visitors a week!



So, I could go on and on about all the learned papers I heard over the past Friday and Saturday ...



I could tell you about what the scientific study of the pigments, binding techniques, pagination and other studies have told us about the relationship between these various texts.



Or even about the "hidden texts" that have been revealed by new laser-spectroscopic methods ...



But instead, I'll just send a few drawings of the event and a hearty welcome back to sweet, sweet Old Ken bloggin'!