Painting of the Potocki Palace in Kraków by Julia Potocka (19th century)
28 de fevereiro de 2017
27 de fevereiro de 2017
26 de fevereiro de 2017
25 de fevereiro de 2017
23 de fevereiro de 2017
Diarna
Diarna Geo-Museum: Racing Against Time
Diarna: The Geo-Museum of Jewish Life in the Middle East and North
Africa is in a race against time to capture the oral testimonies,
multimedia documentation, and site data for the thousands of Jewish
sites that dot the Middle East and North Africa before they are forever
lost.
22 de fevereiro de 2017
Vida
The disappearing fish,
photographed by Iago Leonardo.
In the open ocean, there’s nowhere to hide, but the lookdown fish – a
name it probably gets from the steep profile of its head, with mouth set
low and large eyes high – is a master of camouflage. Recent research
suggests that it uses special platelets in its skin cells to reflect
polarised light (light moving in a single plane), making itself almost
invisible to predators and potential prey.
21 de fevereiro de 2017
Leonard Cohen
"It's true that all the men you knew were dealers
Who said they were through with dealing
Every time you gave them shelter
I know that kind of man
It's hard to hold the hand of anyone
Who is reaching for the sky just to surrender
Who is reaching for the sky just to surrender
And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behind
You find he did not leave you very much not even laughter
Like any dealer he was watching for the card
That is so high and wild
He'll never need to deal another
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger
And then leaning on your window sill
He'll say one day you caused his will
To weaken with your love and warmth and shelter
And then taking from his wallet
An old schedule of trains, he'll say
I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger
But now another stranger seems
To want you to ignore his dreams
As though they were the burden of some other
O you've seen that man before
His golden arm dispatching cards
But now it's rusted from the elbows to the finger
And he wants to trade the game he plays for shelter
Yes he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter
Ah you hate to see another tired man
Lay down his hand
Like he was giving up the holy game of poker
And while he talks his dreams to sleep
You notice there's a highway
That is curling up like smoke above his shoulder
It is curling just like smoke above his shoulder
You tell him to come in sit down
But something makes you turn around
The door is open you can't close your shelter
You try the handle of the road
It opens do not be afraid
It's you my love, you who are the stranger
It's you my love, you who are the stranger
Well, I've been waiting, I was sure
We'd meet between the trains we're waiting for
I think it's time to board another
Please understand, I never had a secret chart
To get me to the heart of this
Or any other matter
When he talks like this
You don't know what he's after
When he speaks like this,
You don't know what he's after
Let's meet tomorrow if you choose
Upon the shore, beneath the bridge
That they are building on some endless river
Then he leaves the platform
For the sleeping car that's warm
You realize, he's only advertising one more shelter
And it comes to you, he never was a stranger
And you say ok the bridge or someplace later
And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behind
You find he did not leave you very much not even laughter
Like any dealer he was watching for the card
That is so high and wild
He'll never need to deal another
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger
And then leaning on your window sill
He'll say one day you caused his will
To weaken with your love and warmth and shelter
And then taking from his wallet
An old schedule of trains, he'll say
I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger"
20 de fevereiro de 2017
19 de fevereiro de 2017
18 de fevereiro de 2017
“Of all the lands there are for dismal scenery, I think Palestine must be the prince. The hills are barren.… The valleys are unsightly deserts fringed with a feeble vegetation that has an expression about it of being sorrowful and despondent.… It is a hopeless, dreary, heartbroken land.… Palestine sits in sackcloth and ashes.… Over it broods the spell of a curse that has withered its fields and fettered its energies… Nazareth is forlorn… Jericho… accursed… Jerusalem… a pauper village… Palestine is desolate and unlovely"
Mark Twain (1867)
16 de fevereiro de 2017
Marcel Proust
Marcel Proust Caught on Film (1904)
A man dressed in a frock coat and wearing a derby hat: Marcel Proust (35 seconds in)
15 de fevereiro de 2017
Mikveh
The underground mikveh of the Jewish community in Syracuse, Sicily (From Roman times to the 15th century)
14 de fevereiro de 2017
13 de fevereiro de 2017
12 de fevereiro de 2017
Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson
A general view of Nikolayev, the Rebbe’s birthplace and home to the Schneerson family until 1908 (Chabad)
11 de fevereiro de 2017
Tu B'Shevat
The ancient sycamore of Netanya (considered the most ancient tree in Israel, it is circa a thousand years old)
9 de fevereiro de 2017
Omer
Illustrated Omer Calendar, Dov Margolioth, Germany (ca. 1830)
Micrography, the scribal practice of employing minuscule script to
create abstract shapes or figurative designs, is an art form that has
been used by Jews for over a millennium. This intricate decorative
technique was first practiced in Egypt and the Land of Israel in the
tenth century. In the centuries following the advent of printing,
micrography continued to be used to decorate ketubbot (marriage
contracts) and wall hangings. This outstanding example of the
micrographers’ art comprises the entire text of four books of the Hebrew
Bible (Esther, Ruth, Song of Songs and Lamentations) as well as an Omer
Calendar for enumerating the days between Passover and Shavuot. In
addition to a profusion of flora and fauna, four biblical characters are
portrayed. At left are Queen Esther and her servant Hatakh, while at
right are King Solomon and Bithia (Batya), the daughter of Pharaoh. It is signed Dov Margolioth, son of Rabbi Asher Selig of Szczebrzeszyn, who completed the work in 1830 in Bonn, Germany.
8 de fevereiro de 2017
Michael Fishbane
"If You Wish To Live, Then Die: Paths of Ascent to God in Jewish Spirituality" (Stroum Lectures, 1990)
7 de fevereiro de 2017
Vida
This could be our earliest known ancestor
An artist’s reconstruction of Saccorhytus coronarius, based on the original fossil finds. The actual creature was probably no more than a millimetre in size. You won’t find it in your family album, but a tiny prehistoric
creature with a bag-like body, a huge mouth and no anus has become the
best candidate yet for our earliest known ancestor. Thought to have lived as long as 540 million years ago, the creature
is the oldest known member of a large group of animals known as
deuterostomes, which includes vertebrates – such as humans – as well as
starfish, sea urchins and a host of other fauna.
Sarça Ardente
"Moses and the burning bush"
Original drawing by Bernard Salomon, illustrations for Claude Paradin, Quadrins historiques de la Bible (circa 1550)
6 de fevereiro de 2017
Leonard Cohen
"Take This Waltz"
"Now in Vienna there are ten pretty women
There's a shoulder where Death comes to cry
There's a lobby with nine hundred windows
There's a tree where the doves go to die
There's a piece that was torn from the morning,
And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz with the clamp on its jaws
There's a shoulder where Death comes to cry
There's a lobby with nine hundred windows
There's a tree where the doves go to die
There's a piece that was torn from the morning,
And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz with the clamp on its jaws
I want you, I want you, I want you
On a chair with a dead magazine
In the cave at the tip of the lilly,
In some hallway where love's never been
On a bed where the moon has been sweating,
In a cry filled with footsteps and sand
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take its broken waist in your hand
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With its very own breath of brandy and death
Dragging its tail in the sea
There's a concert hall in Vienna
Where your mouth had a thousand reviews
There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking
They've been sentenced to death by the blues
Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture
With a garland of freshly cut tears?
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz, it's been dying for years
There's an attic where children are playing,
Where I've got to lie down with you soon,
In a dream of Hungarian lanterns,
In the mist of some sweet afternoon
And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow,
All your sheep and your lillies of snow
Take this waltz, take this waltz
With its "I'll never forget you, you know!"
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With its very own breath of brandy and Death
Dragging its tail in the sea
And I'll dance with you in Vienna
I'll be wearing a river's disguise
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder,
My mouth on the dew of your thighs
And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
With the photographs there, and the moss
And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty
My cheap violin and my cross
And you'll carry me down on your dancing
To the pools that you lift on your wrist
O my love, o my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz
It's yours now. It's all that there is"
On a chair with a dead magazine
In the cave at the tip of the lilly,
In some hallway where love's never been
On a bed where the moon has been sweating,
In a cry filled with footsteps and sand
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take its broken waist in your hand
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With its very own breath of brandy and death
Dragging its tail in the sea
There's a concert hall in Vienna
Where your mouth had a thousand reviews
There's a bar where the boys have stopped talking
They've been sentenced to death by the blues
Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture
With a garland of freshly cut tears?
Take this waltz, take this waltz
Take this waltz, it's been dying for years
There's an attic where children are playing,
Where I've got to lie down with you soon,
In a dream of Hungarian lanterns,
In the mist of some sweet afternoon
And I'll see what you've chained to your sorrow,
All your sheep and your lillies of snow
Take this waltz, take this waltz
With its "I'll never forget you, you know!"
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz
With its very own breath of brandy and Death
Dragging its tail in the sea
And I'll dance with you in Vienna
I'll be wearing a river's disguise
The hyacinth wild on my shoulder,
My mouth on the dew of your thighs
And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
With the photographs there, and the moss
And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty
My cheap violin and my cross
And you'll carry me down on your dancing
To the pools that you lift on your wrist
O my love, o my love
Take this waltz, take this waltz
It's yours now. It's all that there is"
5 de fevereiro de 2017
Yotam Ottolenghi
Slow-cooked chicken with bucatini (and lots of garlic)
Bucatini is a thick, hollow spaghetti. You can find it in large supermarkets and Italian delicatessens, but if you can’t get hold of any, penne makes the best alternative. It won’t look the same, but it’s better to stick with a tubed pasta, rather than use spaghetti, so the garlic, spices and cooking juices can find their way into the pasta. Serves four generously.
1 tsp olive oil
1 tsp hot paprika
1½ tsp ground allspice
½ tsp ground turmeric
Salt
15 garlic cloves, peeled
2 beef tomatoes, roughly chopped
3 tbsp lemon juice
350g bucatini
10g flat-leaf parsley leaves, roughly chopped
Put the chicken in a large bowl with the oil, paprika, allspice,
turmeric and a teaspoon of salt. Toss to coat, then leave to marinate
for 10 minutes.
Put a large, heavy-based casserole for which you have a lid on a
medium-high heat. Lay in the chicken skin side down and fry for 10
minutes (there is no need to add any oil to the pan), turning regularly,
until golden brown all over. Turn the heat to low and add the whole
garlic cloves, tomatoes, lemon juice and two tablespoons of water. Pop
on the lid and leave to cook slowly for 45 minutes, until the chicken is
just cooked through.
Fifteen minutes before the chicken is cooked, fill a large pot with
water, salt generously and bring to a boil. Cook the pasta until al
dente, then drain and return to its pot.
Once the chicken is done, transfer both it and the garlic cloves to a
plate. Pour the remaining contents of the casserole over the pasta and
toss to combine. Return the chicken to the casserole skin side down and
lay the soft garlic in between. Pour all the pasta and cooking juices on
top, cover the pot and leave to cook on a low heat for another 45
minutes.
Transfer the pasta to a shallow serving bowl, then stir in the
parsley. Arrange the chicken on top skin side up (some of the skin may
have stuck to the base of the pan, but don’t worry), then pour over the
garlic and cooking juices, and serve.
4 de fevereiro de 2017
2 de fevereiro de 2017
Vida
The "Stelmužė oak": common oak (Quercus robur L.), more than 1,000 years old, Stelmužė village, Lithuania
1 de fevereiro de 2017
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