'Target' by Jasper Johns

I really adore this one.
'Target', 1974
Artist:
Jasper Johns

The History of Ben Sherman

A rather large blurb about the book written about UK fashion sensation, Ben Sherman. The booked aptly called, 'My Favourite Shirt: A history of Ben Sherman style by Terry Rawlings and Paolo Hewitt.

Enjoy the words....



Everyone has a favourite shirt. Some of you have a favourite Ben Sherman (favorite if you're American like me). And most people who regularly read Uppers probably have a favourite Ben Sherman and most likely can tell you, without hesitation the where, when and what of their first Ben Sherman.

My first came in 1989 from 99X in NYC, NY back when it graced East 7th Street (just across from McSorley's Alehouse). It was a black long sleeved traditional with a "white graph paper lines" pattern (it's still doing ocassional duty to this day). I'd resisted them until '89 as prior I had scoffed at Ben Sherman's because they were de rigeur of the packs of troublesome and obnoxious flight jacket, D.M. wearing NYC skinheads. Soon I began buying them at an alarming rate, a behavior pattern that still continues to this day. Though it would be pompously arrogant to quote the actual number of them hanging in my closets let's suffice to say I more than have enough to represent each year of my life outside the womb on this beautiful planet.

As one might expect "My Favorite Shirt" is a history of the shirt, the man and the image that's endured 41 years. As one might also expect in the tradition of Terry Rawling's other books ("Mod - A Very British Phenomenon" and "British Beat - Then, Now & Rare") it's jam packed with unseen color and black and white photographs of bands, tags, flyers, ordinary folks and of course Ben Sherman shirts. In not so many words, lots of eye candy. Lots.

That said, the book takes meticulous care to give a thorough biography of the man who started it all: Ben Sherman. Ben Sherman was actually born Arthur Benjamin Sugarman in Brighton, England in 1925. Arthur relocated to the U.S.A in 1946 where after a succession of wives it was in California that he learned about the garment trade from his third wife's father, a prosperous garment manufacturer responsible for two highly successful swimwear companies. After a legal name change to Ben Sherman, Artur/Ben successfully applied for U.S. citizenship. Relocating back to Brighton in 1962 when his mother became ill. It was there that the famous Ben Sherman button down collar shirt made it's debut in 1963 and the rest is history. With help from his fourth wife Daphne the company prospered faster than their factories could churn out merchandise. The Sherman's sold the company in 1973 and relocated downunder. After his divorce from Daphne, Ben passed away in 1987 from a heart attack aged 62.

Paolo Hewitt and Rawlings have collected an array of pop stars and personalities (from both "then" and "now") to convey their tales and praise for the legendary garment. It's here that the reading becomes interesting and engrossing. It reads like a virtual who's who of the 60's U.K. music scene with anecdotes from members of The Birds, Action, Animals, Creation (Eddie Phillips reveals the bands famed epaulet shirts were Ben's that had been "acessorized"), Artwoods, Kinks, Dave Dee & Co., Chris Farlowe (who not only collected them but still has them un-used in their original packaging), Troggs, Dave Berry (who writes that Roger Daltrey and Keith Moon would take him to a shop on Carnaby Street to get them on afternoons preceding that evenings filming of "Ready Steady Go") et al.

There's quotes from men/women on the street who were mods/skinheads "back in the day" as well. The late 70's/early 80's are covered by quotes from members of The Jam, Purple Hearts, Flamin' Groovies, Buzzcocks, Undertones, Specials, Nine Below Zero, Chords etc. On the pitch there's George Best (who made sure that his own chain of fashion shops in the late 60's stocked Ben's) and todays Rio Ferdinand. Though by which point with the later the book shifts to a somewhat disturbing contemporary slant that sees photos of barely dressed runway models, glitterati, bleach blonde bimbos, and worst of all Ashton Kutcher (from the U.S. sitcom "That 70's Show" for our non-American readers) in an unbuttoned Ben button up with a Ben tee beneath and a greasy baseball cap proving that Ben's aren't limited to mods and skins but that everyday Hollywood jack asses can wear them too, at least for five seconds till the next fad arrives.

Most distressing and at the same time amusing is the quote supplied from the Def Jam/Phat Farm creator Russell Simons: "Rap is about style. Through their poetry rappers talk specifically about what is cool. With Jay-Z it's those shirts he's wearing - Ben Sherman - with jeans. That's what we're doing in the hood right now". Phew! Maybe my nearest "hood" (Trenton, NJ) is behind the times but I've yet to see the local homies wearing any classic 60's button down's! One wonders what Jam Master Jay had on when he was gunned down. Also on the fad wavelength we get a snapshot of Damon Albarn during Blur's ever so brief "mod" Ben Sherman/suit/DM phase. And there's a photo of a current U.K. band called The Ordinary Boys. Hmmmm. Strangely the book takes an amusing nose dive from 60's ace faces to 21st century slackers with tattoos, earrings and way too much money. I'm certain this is to illustrate the occasional vogue that B.S.'s seem to fall into, but never you mind, when the "hip people" get done there will be more Ben's in discount shops (Loehman's in the U.S.A where you can get them for half the price) and thrift stores (or Charity shops as our colonial cousins call them) for us!

All in all "My Favourite Shirt" is unlikely to appeal to anyone outside of our small circle of friends but it's essential reading and viewing that no respectable modernist type's book shelf should be without. Incidentally my favourite Ben is a late 70's long sleeved number that's two sizes too small, and is a teal, white, navy blue and red plaid abomination that comes out on special occasions.

An insight into Bashevis Singer

A biographical account of Isaac Bashevis Singer, a literary artist of the highest order. Taken from the Nobel Prize website.

http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1978/singer-bio.html

Read and let it be Read.


In one of his more light-hearted books, Isaac Bashevis Singer depicts his childhood in one of the over-populated poor quarters of Warsaw, a Jewish quarter, just before and during the First World War. The book, called In My Father's Court (1966), is sustained by a redeeming, melancholy sense of humour and a clear-sightedness free of illusion. This world has gone forever, destroyed by the most terrible of all scourges that have afflicted the Jews and other people in Poland. But it comes to life in Singer's memories and writing in general. Its mental and physical environment and its centuries-old traditions have set their stamp on Singer as a man and a writer, and provide the ever-vivid subject matter for his inspiration and imagination. It is the world and life of East European Jewry, such as it was lived in cities and villages, in poverty and persecution, and imbued with sincere piety and rites combined with blind faith and superstition. Its language was Yiddish - the language of the simple people and of the women, the language of the mothers which preserved fairytales and anecdotes, legends and memories for hundreds of years past, through a history which seems to have left nothing untried in the way of agony, passions, aberrations, cruelty and bestiality, but also of heroism, love and self-sacrifice.

Singer's father was a rabbi, a spiritual mentor and confessor, of the Hasid school of piety. His mother also came from a family of rabbis. The East European Jewish-mystical Hasidism combined Talmud doctrine and a fidelity to scripture and rites - which often merged into prudery and strict adherence to the law - with a lively and sensually candid earthiness that seemed familiar with all human experience. Its world, which the reader encounters in Singer's stories, is a very Jewish but also a very human world. It appears to include everything - pleasure and suffering, coarseness and subtlety. We find obstrusive carnality, spicy, colourful, fragrant or smelly, lewd or violent. But there is also room for sagacity, worldly wisdom and shrewd speculation. The range extends from the saintly to the demoniacal, from quiet contemplation and sublimity, to ruthless obsession and infernal confusion or destruction. It is typical that among the authors Singer read at an early age who have influenced him and accompanied him through life were Spinoza, Gogol and Dostoievsky, in addition to Talmud, Kabbala and kindred writings.

Singer began his writing career as a journalist in Warsaw in the years between the wars. He was influenced by his elder brother, now dead, who was already an author and who contributed to the younger brother's spiritual liberation and contact with the new currents of seething political, social and cultural upheaval. The clash between tradition and renewal, between other-worldliness and faith and mysticism on the one hand, and free thought, secularization, doubt and nihilism on the other, is an essential theme in Singer's short stories and novels. The theme is Jewish, made topical by the barbarous conflicts of our age, a painful drama between contentious loyalties. But it is also of concern to mankind, to us all, Jew or non-Jew, actualized by modern western culture's struggles between preservation and renewal. Among many other themes, it is dealt with in Singer's big family chronicles - the novels, The Family Moskat (1950), The Manor (1967), and The Estate (1969). These extensive epic works have been compared with Thomas Mann's novel, Buddenbrooks. Like Mann, Singer describes how old families are broken up by the new age and its demands, from the middle of the 19th century up to the Second World War, and how they are split, financially, socially and humanly. But Singer's chronicles are greater in scope than Mann's novel and more richly orchestrated in their characterization. The author's apparently inexhaustible psychological fantasy has created a microcosm, or rather, a well-populated microchaos, out of independent and graphically convincing figures. They bring to mind another writer whom Singer read when young - Leo Tolstoy.

Singer's earliest fictional works, however, were not big novels but short stories and novellas, a genre in which he has perhaps given his very best as a consummate storyteller and stylist. The novel, Satan in Goray, written originally in Yiddish, like practically all Singer books, appeared in 1935 when the Nazi catastrophe was threatening and just before the author emigrated to the USA, where he has lived and worked ever since. It treats of a theme to which Singer has often returned in different ways and with variations in time, place and personages - the false Messiah, his seductive arts and successes, the mass hysteria around him, his fall and the breaking up of illusions in destitution and new illusion, or in penance and purity. Satan in Goray takes place in the 17th century, in the confusion and the sufferings after the cruel ravages of the Cossacks, with outrages and mass murder of Jews and other wretched peasants and artisans. The people in this novel, as elsewhere with Singer, are often at the mercy of the capricious infliction of circumstance, but even more so, their own passions. The passions are frequently of a sexual nature but also of another kind - manias and superstitions, fanatical hopes and dreams, the figments of terror, the lure of lust or power, the nightmares of anguish, and so on. Even boredom can become a restless passion, as with the main character in the tragi-comic picaresque novel, The Magician of Lublin (1961), a most eccentric anti-hero, a kind of Jewish Don Juan and rogue, who ends up as an ascetic or saint.

This is one of the most characteristic themes with Singer - the tyranny of the passions, the power and fickle inventiveness of obsession, the grotesque wealth of variation, and the destructive, but also inflaming and paradoxically creative potential of the emotions. We encounter this tumultuous and colourful world particularly in Singer's numerous and fantastic short stories, available in English translation in about a dozen collections, from the early Gimpel The Fool (translated 1953), to the later work, A Crown of Feathers (1973), with notable masterpieces in between, such as, The Spinoza of Market Street (1961), or, A Friend of Kafka (1970). The passions and crazes are personified in Singer as demons, spectres, ghosts and all kinds of infernal or supernatural powers from the rich storehouse of Jewish popular imagination. These demons are not only graphic literary symbols, but also real, tangible beings - Singer, in fact, says he believes in their physical presence. The middle ages rise up in his work and permeate the present. Everyday life is interwoven with wonders, reality spun from dreams, the blood of the past with the moment in which we are living. This is where Singer's narrative art celebrates its greatest triumphs and bestows a reading experience of a deeply original kind, harrowing, but also stimulating and edifying. Many of his characters step with unquestioned authority into the Pantheon of literature, where the eternal companions and mythical figures live, tragic and grotesque, comic and touching, weird and wonderful people of dream and torment, baseness and grandeur.

They gave and gave .... a tribute to those slain in Mumbai

The Jewish community at large and specifically our beloved Chabad movement has had its heart pierced by unjustified terrorism. In the past, terror attacks have come and gone with dire consequences. The most recent assault on innocent civilians was one that really hit home. The Chabad community lost two important soldiers, Rabbi Gavriel and Rebbetzin Rivka Holtzberg. I personally did not know the Holtzberg's, but I have heard and read that they were special and unique souls.

The latest strike was one on guiltless people who sacrificed their lives for the better of mankind. People who gave up the luxurious life afforded to them in the United States and Israel, to lend a hand to travelers and the Jewish community in India. They inspired countless numbers of people who passed through their Chabad Centre in Mumbai. They fed anyone who happened upon their house. They made sure no Jew who passed through India was left stranded.

Loving parents, devoted emissaries, respected members of their community, a couple dedicated and committed to pure and holy causes stripped of their lives at such a young age. Murdered because they were good people. Singled out because they were Jewish. Cowardly ambushed out of envious hatred by barbaric fanatics.

In a pure attack on Western culture, its people and hatred towards Jewish Zionism, young men completely manipulated and exploited by terror themed camps, taught by the 'elder' as how to operate guns and grenades, not for defensive purposes, but to ensure as much death and terror to those who are non-Muslim. These terrorists snuffed out the lives of many. However, they have not succeeded in their attempt to derail the Jewish flame and have not intimidated the general populace. We valiantly power on, helping and assisting in wiping out terror from society and spreading messages of hope and salvation. We keep in our mind the fresh images of the 'ultimate sacrifices' of that of the Holtzberg's and others whose lives were cut short. We must take some inspiration as to the lives they led and how they taught and embraced Judaism and life. We progress on in their memory.

Of course questions can be asked, why do bad things happen to good people? Why were these people selected and targeted in the terror attacks?
There are no forthcoming answers.

May the deaths of those holy ones be an everlasting reminder of true commitment to genuine causes. They were stationed in India to teach and provide for the community. The Holtzberg's Chabad House, under the guidance of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, was always destined to be their base where they could disseminate their love and affection to Jews of all kinds. They were 'born' in that Chabad house and tragically died there too. It is no coincidence. They selflessly gave and gave, finally succumbing to unanswerable violence.

We do not to death, we do life.

Baruch Dayan Emet -Blessed is the Judge of truth.

Yiddish and New York

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/7739968.stm

Czech this out..... A nice Yiddish piece and New York

November report

Mo(N)ovemeber –  and its tricks.

Well it is that time again, an update of some sorts, due from the North of America, where cold temperatures exist and high ones are sought. The golden leaves have fallen of the trees, coats are being worn and yes, people are just people. The rain descends with precipitation, the Snow has yet to arrive, either has the Messiah.

After a whirlwind trip to Israel, I have returned to pursue my dreams, of obtaining acceptance to practice as an attorney in New York. I have started preparation studies, in familiarising and acquainting myself with American/New York substantive and procedural Law. Being such a diligent and disciplined student, I hold my rope of hope to fare well. (This is where I thank my parents.) So after acquiring some textbooks, some the size of Mt Everest, I have begun the daunting task of preparing myself for the gruesome and horrific New York Bar examination to take place in February 2009.  I have set the goal; I have the task at hand, so waltz with me as I battle the Law front on.

I have also begun the quest, albeit passively at the moment in landing work in the legal field. If anyone knows of someone or something with potential for work opportunity, please do not hesitate in contacting me. I am reliable, hardworking, disciplined, motivated, enthusiastic and of course modest.

My new move is looking bright. I have found a place; I would rather use ‘a place’ than ‘my place’, because I am unsure if anyone can find his or her place in New York. The Statue of Liberty could only find its place on Liberty Island. I rest my case. All in all, I am enjoying the new surroundings and different culture like atmosphere. I like the fact that convenience stores are open 24 hours, with the added bonus of acquiring alcohol. The recent elections and economic financial crisis, which has plagued the markets, is another reason for 24 hour, alcohol selling convenience stores. A coincidence, I do not think so.

I witnessed history in the making during November 2008, as the United States population, (well some of them) voted in a new President. The first coloured man to be elected In America. There were people calling for change, some were calling for a new future, while others said nothing.  History I witnessed, the rest is now shrouded in mystery.

Thanksgiving is imminent; Americans have this holiday celebrating the end of the harvest season. I always welcome in any holiday. Next month Is Chanukah and many other celebrations, ultimately followed By January 19 when the world and I celebrate my Birthday. (Presents and presence are both welcome.)

My Grandmother, Booba Malka, she should be healthy till 120, told me once in the name of the Yiddish writer Sholem Aleichem, ‘that one needs a thousand eyes to cross Broadway’. The eyes represent opportunity. I have this mantra fixed in my mind as I traverse and chase my dreams in America. So I give blessings to one and all, for unlimited possibilities and favourable dreams in the time to come.

Looking forward to hearing from you all.

Have a merry and messy December.

Shlomy

Flight of the Sabra

Some people make lists, where they put together various wishes, things & experiences that they wish to do before they go on to the better world. 

I hope that flying on ELAL Israel Airlines is not one of those wishes.

After recently experiencing one of the most satisfying holidays in Israel, I endured a comedic, danger filled flight with ELAL, from Tel Aviv to New York. I do not intend to report ELAL to the Civil Aviation authorities, but the way Passengers conducted themselves, before, during and after the flight has left me thinking. Do Israeli's really have no manners? Do they think they are superior beings? Is it because they are called Sabra's mean that they cannot sit on their behinds for an extra few minutes, without endangering the lives of fellow passengers? 

I could surely write a whole lot on the incident filled flight. But I'd rather ( if you are brave enough) for you to experience it yourself. 

Seat belts apparently save lives in cars. I assume the seat belts on an airplane is there for protective reasons and not for some fashionable purpose. During the landing stage at New York's JFK Airport, there were young children (all from ultra religious families) found running up the aisles, sleeping under seats and making excessive noise. All at the amusement of their parents. Then of course, before the plane gets to the gate, and whilst still in motion, every Israeli has already unbuckled their belt, retrieved his/her bag and cannot wait the extra minute to disembark. 

Because, they have to be the first one of the plane.

So help me, Lord.

I would like to hear some of your dangerous and hilarious ELAL experiences.