Thursday, January 28, 2016

What's In A Name: The Story of the Golliwog



“If you had to choose between art and the slogan, or between history and the slogan, you might as well choose the slogan and have done with pretending even to care about art and history. The reduction of all things to politics must reduce them, in their own right, to irrelevance.”
-Anthony Esolen



Sledding Fun
(Notice the Golliwogg in Fido's mouth)




What, might you ask, is a Golliwog?







Based on a character in a childrens' book,
  the Golliwog was a hugely popular toy 
in Great Britain during
the earlier half of the 20th century.

However, in today's world of 
political correctness run amok,
this once beloved toy of little girls and boys
is considered racist against black people.



I believe this was never intended to be.




A rare Golliwog book by Florence K. Upton





According to various Internet sources, the
racial slur "wog" derived from
the word, "Golliwog" and was
first used in Great Britain in
the late 1920's.
However, this particular racial epithet was
 a common slang word used by British soldiers
for dark-skinned people in places like Africa,
 Egypt and India
during Victorian Colonial rule,
years before Florence Upton's birth
and the debut of her first Golliwog
book in 1895. 


British-American Illustrator
Florence Kate Upton
1873-1922

In a fashion similar to
 the creation of America's
beloved Raggedy Ann doll,
Golliwog came into being
 after Florence Upton discovered
five old wooden Dutch dolls and a
black rag doll left behind in an attic. 


 The black doll, whom she named, Golliwog, 
became the hero in her series of books.
The books were very successful, yet
for some reason, Florence Upton
never patented the character she created.
 As a result of this oversight,
unscrupulous toy companies, and childrens'
book writer, Enid Blyton,
  took advantage of the situation
choosing to depict Golliwog as 
 an ill-mannered and deceitful character, while other
writers used him to poke fun at and mock the
perceived mannerisms of black people,
copying the insensitive racial caricatures popular in
the United States of America at the time. 












 Florence Upton truly despaired over
the misrepresentation of the beloved character she
had created from her own imagination.

"I am frightened when I read the fearsome etymology
 some deep, dark minds can see in his name," she said.

Tragically, Upton died from complications
  following surgery  on October 16, 1922.
 She was 49 years old.
 Over the years, her grave has been the target of
vandals, whose reasons for desecrating her
final resting place remain unclear.
Fortunately, due to a grant from Great Britain's
Heritage Lottery Fund, the headstone on her grave
 has finally been placed upright and is being restored.



Unfortunately, the controversy over her
 beloved creation, Golliwog, continues to this day.





Adorable Handmade Golliwog Dolls



As a life long doll collector, I would love to
add a few adorable and rare
 (at least here in America) Golliwogs
 to my family of dolls some day.


 Golliwogs in a shop window in Glasgow, Scotland

Sunday, January 10, 2016

The Original American Hero


"I grew up a-dreamin' of bein' a cowboy,
and lovin' the cowboy ways..."
-Willie Nelson




"A Great View"
Craig Tennant


Come sell your pony, cowboy
Sell your pony to me;
Braided bridle and your puncher saddle,
And spend your money free.

If I should sell my pony,
And ride the range no more,
Nail up my hat and silver spurs
Above my shanty door;

And let my door stand open wide
To the snow and the rain and sun;
And bury me under the green sweetgrass
Where you hear the river run.



Laughter Kills Lonesome
Charles M. Russell



As I came down the sweetgrass range
And by the cabin door,
I heard a singing in the early dusk
Along the river shore;

I heard a singing to the early stars
And the tune of a pony's feet.
The joy of the riding singer
I shall never forget.

-Edwin Ford Piper



Singing Cowboys
Andy Thomas






Best of Days
Robert Duncan





The Stampede By Lightning
 Frederic Remington





She Loves Her Cowboy
Connie Chadwell





Sharin The Light
Jack E. Dawson






Roping A Steer
Charles M. Russell






Little Cowboys and Cowgirl
Nelson Borden





Sleeper's Awake



Wach­et auf, ruft uns die Stim­me

Sleepers Wake



Johann Sebastian Bach
1685-1750


“Sleepers, wake!” the watch cry pealeth,
While slumber deep each eyelid sealeth:
Awake, Jerusalem, awake!
Midnight’s solemn hour is tolling,
And seraph-notes are onward rolling;
They call on us our part to take.


Come forth, ye virgins wise:
The Bridegroom comes, arise!
Alleluia! Each lamp be bright with ready light
To grace the marriage feast tonight.


Zion hears the voice that singeth
With sudden joy her glad heart springeth,
At once she wakes, she stands arrayed:
Her Light is come, her Star ascending,
Lo, girt with truth, with mercy blending,
Her Bridegroom there, so long delayed.


All hail! God’s glorious Son,
All hail! our joy and crown,
Alleluia! The joyful call we answer all,
And follow to the bridal hall.


Praise to Him Who goes before us!
Let men and angels join in chorus,
Let harp and cymbal add their sound.
Twelve the gates, a pearl each portal:
We haste to join the choir immortal
Within the Holy City’s bound.


Ear ne’er heard aught like this,
Nor heart conceived such bliss.
Alleluia! We raise the song,

 we swell the throng,
To praise Thee ages all along.




"I will dwell in Your tabernacle forever;

let me find trust and refuge in the
shelter of Your wings."
Psalm 61:4

In memory of David Anthony Yeagley

September 5, 1951- March 11, 2014






Uncoupled



People may reject and abandoned us.
God never.



Uncoupled

My husband of eight years left me at the beginning of my
fourth month of pregnancy. I have never felt more rejected, vulnerable,
or unloved. I was nauseated, tired, and constantly trying to explain
to my two year old son that Daddy wasn't coming back 
home because he didn't love Mommy anymore.

Michigan's howling winter winds, which seemed to seep
through even brick walls, only added to my depression as I
hauled groceries and toddler up three flights of stairs. We had
just moved to Michigan from Virginia, and this was supposed to
be our temporary apartment while our house
 in Virginia was being sold.

No house, no job, no husband, no church. Just an active little
boy asking heartbreaking questions, a stomach that gagged at 
the thought of food, and an empty bed with sheets as cold 
as the February winds.

Yet, somewhere, there was something else too. It was deep
inside my heart. It didn't feel overpowering or dramatic, 
but it gave me courage to get up each morning and make it
through the day.

I knew that God loved me.
I wish I could say I laughed in the face of all adversity,
but I didn't.  I sobbed into my pillow at night, then
lay awake unable to breathe through my nose,
wondering what would happen to me and my two babies.

I did more than wonder, though. I prayed.  I prayed when I did
my grocery shopping, when I bathed little Matthew, and when I
strained over my ever-protruding belly to trim my toenails.
How reassuring it was for me in those lonely times
 to read God's words:

 "Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you."
 (Heb.13:5)

I held on to those words when I felt totally abandoned, totally
alone. In those times, when I was willing to reach out to God
and His reassuring words, He faithfully held me up.

Thank You, Lord, for granting me strength to live
through difficult times. And thank You for holding me up,
especially in my most vulnerable moments.
-Sue Richards






"They who sow in tears shall reap in joy and singing."
Psalm 126:5

America By Art: William Henry Jackson

On The Way West...
 
O the transporting, rapturous scene,
That rises to my sight!
Sweet fields arrayed in living green,
And rivers of delight!
I am bound for the promised land,
I am bound for the promised land;
Oh who will come and go with me?
I am bound for the promised land.
On Jordan's Stormy Banks I Stand
Samuel Stennet
(1787)

Sand Hills 
William Henry Jackson.



 Prolific artist and photographer,
Oregon Trail bullwhacker, world traveler,
 and veteran of the Battle of Gettysburg,
William Henry Jackson was an eye witness to
  taming of the American frontier.
Through paintbrush and camera lens, he 
captured the beauty and majesty of 
this fair land, along with the conflict and
rapid change brought, in the aftermath of
the Civil War, especially to many
 American Indian tribes, whom 
once roamed freely here. 
  

William Henry Jackson
1843-1942




War Hero

Fold up the banners! Smelt the guns!
Love rules. Her gentler purpose runs.
A mighty mother turns in tears
The pages of her battle years,
Lamenting all her fallen sons.
"The High Tide At Gettysburg"
Will Henry Thompson




The pencil renderings of a young man in time of war...



Picket Duty
William Henry Jackson







Commissary 
William Henry Jackson







Block House at Catlett Station
William Henry Jackson

Rise up and ride the wind, dear child
Soar high on eagles' wings
Though it blow fierce; though it be mild,
Rise above all that it brings. - See more at: http://www.christart.com/poetry/poem5266.htm#sthash.3w0BcK4X.dpuf





 

Indigenous Traditions...





Shosone-Bannock Indian family in their tepee
William Henry Jackson
(1871)






"I regard the Cheyenne tribe of Indians,
 after an acquaintance with
quite a number of bands,
 as the finest body of that race which
I have ever met."
-Ranald S. "Three Fingers" Mackenzie




"The Painted Arrow People" 
Art of the Cheyenne








"All we ask is to be allowed to live, and live in peace...
You may kill me here; but you cannot make me go back.
We will not go.  The only way to get us there is to come
in here with clubs and knock us on the head, and drag us out 
and take us down there dead."
-Dull Knife (Tahmelapashme)
Northern Cheyenne



Portrait of Little Wolf and Dull Knife
 Northern Cheyenne 
William Henry Jackson
(1873)





The Mystery of the Ancient Ones...



Caves of the Anasazi Cliff Dwellers
William Henry Jackson





 Natural Wonders...


So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.

"The Old Rugged Cross" 
-George Bennard
(1913)








"Since 1873, I have been back four or five times.

 I have used the best cameras
 and the most sensitive emulsions on the market.
 I have snapped my shutter, morning, noon and afternoon.
 I have never come close to matching those first plates."
 -William Henry Jackson 
(On photographing The Mountain of the Holy Cross)




Mount of the Holy Cross
William Henry Jackson
(1873)




I like to see it lap the miles,
And lick the valleys up,
And stop to feed itself at tanks;
And then, prodigious, step

Around a pile of Mountains,
And, supercilious, peer
In shanties by the sides of roads;
And then a quarry pare


The Railway Train
-Emily Dickinson


Marshall Pass West Side
Colorado
William Henry Jackson





" Down in the valley the valley so low
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow
Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow"


 Traditional American Folk Song



Yosemite Valley
California
William Henry Jackson
(1898)













Mammoth Hot Springs
Yellowstone National Park
William Henry Jackson
(1871)





Although much of Jackson's work behind the camera

 focused on the spectacular geographical beauty 
of the western United States,
 he photographed in many states, 
and in other places around the world,
 including, Canada, Mexico, and Cuba, 
not to mention India, China, Korea, and Siberia,
 where he visited a prison camp, and managed to
 photograph convicts working on
the Trans-Siberian Railroad.










Grand Canyon
William Henry Jackson
(1883)