the indefinable creative ability to produce better
I happened to pick up a copy of Life in Nelson’s Navy by Dudley Pope, (Annapolis, Md. : Naval Institute Press, 1981) and read:
Different nations produced different types of fighting ship. Often their needs varied, sometimes they had different geographical problems, occasionally they produced brilliant or uninspired or incompetent designers. Because of their shallow coasts, Dutch designers were given limits on the draught of their designs; Danish and Swedish designers usually had to make provisions for oars, or sweeps, in the smaller ships because, although tideless, the Skagerrak, Kattegat and Baltic could often be windless, and sometimes a current could run in the same direction for days on end so that ships had to be rowed against it.
British designers were left puzzled. French ships were longer — and faster. Spanish ships were shorter, beamier — and faster. Now the French were producing longer and beamier ships which were faster. The fact was the old rules about length and beam were being overturned; frigates particularly would have to be larger.
Designing was at this stage clearly a curious mixture of art and science: the science could be called experience, the art the indefinable creative ability that one man had to produce a ship that was better than that designed by a rival.
I liked that last bit.
A curious mixture of art and science.
The science could be called experience.
The art?
The indefinable creative ability that one man had to produce a ship that was better than that designed by a rival.
The indefinable creative ability that one man had to produce.
I find comfort knowing I will always be able unplug artificial intelligence.
Where are those Von Neumann machines anyway?
By the way, I happen to be aware that 1) The USS Constitution is the oldest ship still in active commission in any navy in the world and 2) It is the only ship in the US Navy to have sunk an enemy ship in action.
shall pay any price bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend
On January 20, 1961, President John F. Kennedy delivered his inaugural address in a message that rings loud and clear for today.
The stunning difference is that President Kenney was speaking to the World at large when today I feel his call for Freedom needs to be heard here in America.
To that end, I am writing a series of Haiku based on that inaugural address.
Also anyone who follows this blog, knows that when I miss a few days, I will create a series of posts based on the same text to catch myself up to date.
This is one of those series.
If you really want to scare yourself or make yourself think in such a way as to scare yourself, read this speech and William Shakespeare’s playJulius Caesar at the same time.
Today’s Haiku is taken from the passage:
We dare not forget today that we are the heirs of that first revolution. Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans–born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of our ancient heritage–and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human rights to which this nation has always been committed, and to which we are committed today at home and around the world.
Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty.
Here is the complete text of from that address on January 20, 1961.
Vice President Johnson, Mr. Speaker, Mr. Chief Justice, President Eisenhower, Vice President Nixon, President Truman, Reverend Clergy, fellow citizens:
We observe today not a victory of party but a celebration of freedom–symbolizing an end as well as a beginning–signifying renewal as well as change. For I have sworn before you and Almighty God the same solemn oath our forbears prescribed nearly a century and three-quarters ago.
The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of human life. And yet the same revolutionary beliefs for which our forebears fought are still at issue around the globe–the belief that the rights of man come not from the generosity of the state but from the hand of God.
We dare not forget today that we are the heirs of that first revolution. Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans–born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of our ancient heritage–and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human rights to which this nation has always been committed, and to which we are committed today at home and around the world.
Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty.
This much we pledge–and more.
To those old allies whose cultural and spiritual origins we share, we pledge the loyalty of faithful friends. United there is little we cannot do in a host of cooperative ventures. Divided there is little we can do–for we dare not meet a powerful challenge at odds and split asunder.
To those new states whom we welcome to the ranks of the free, we pledge our word that one form of colonial control shall not have passed away merely to be replaced by a far more iron tyranny. We shall not always expect to find them supporting our view. But we shall always hope to find them strongly supporting their own freedom–and to remember that, in the past, those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside.
To those people in the huts and villages of half the globe struggling to break the bonds of mass misery, we pledge our best efforts to help them help themselves, for whatever period is required–not because the communists may be doing it, not because we seek their votes, but because it is right. If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.
To our sister republics south of our border, we offer a special pledge–to convert our good words into good deeds–in a new alliance for progress–to assist free men and free governments in casting off the chains of poverty. But this peaceful revolution of hope cannot become the prey of hostile powers. Let all our neighbors know that we shall join with them to oppose aggression or subversion anywhere in the Americas. And let every other power know that this Hemisphere intends to remain the master of its own house.
To that world assembly of sovereign states, the United Nations, our last best hope in an age where the instruments of war have far outpaced the instruments of peace, we renew our pledge of support–to prevent it from becoming merely a forum for invective–to strengthen its shield of the new and the weak–and to enlarge the area in which its writ may run.
Finally, to those nations who would make themselves our adversary, we offer not a pledge but a request: that both sides begin anew the quest for peace, before the dark powers of destruction unleashed by science engulf all humanity in planned or accidental self-destruction.
We dare not tempt them with weakness. For only when our arms are sufficient beyond doubt can we be certain beyond doubt that they will never be employed.
But neither can two great and powerful groups of nations take comfort from our present course–both sides overburdened by the cost of modern weapons, both rightly alarmed by the steady spread of the deadly atom, yet both racing to alter that uncertain balance of terror that stays the hand of mankind’s final war.
So let us begin anew–remembering on both sides that civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof. Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.
Let both sides explore what problems unite us instead of belaboring those problems which divide us.
Let both sides, for the first time, formulate serious and precise proposals for the inspection and control of arms–and bring the absolute power to destroy other nations under the absolute control of all nations.
Let both sides seek to invoke the wonders of science instead of its terrors. Together let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts, eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths and encourage the arts and commerce.
Let both sides unite to heed in all corners of the earth the command of Isaiah–to “undo the heavy burdens . . . (and) let the oppressed go free.”
And if a beachhead of cooperation may push back the jungle of suspicion, let both sides join in creating a new endeavor, not a new balance of power, but a new world of law, where the strong are just and the weak secure and the peace preserved.
All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days, nor in the life of this Administration, nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin.
In your hands, my fellow citizens, more than mine, will rest the final success or failure of our course. Since this country was founded, each generation of Americans has been summoned to give testimony to its national loyalty. The graves of young Americans who answered the call to service surround the globe.
Now the trumpet summons us again–not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need–not as a call to battle, though embattled we are– but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, “rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation”–a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease and war itself.
Can we forge against these enemies a grand and global alliance, North and South, East and West, that can assure a more fruitful life for all mankind? Will you join in that historic effort?
In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility–I welcome it. I do not believe that any of us would exchange places with any other people or any other generation. The energy, the faith, the devotion which we bring to this endeavor will light our country and all who serve it–and the glow from that fire can truly light the world.
And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you–ask what you can do for your country.
My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.
Finally, whether you are citizens of America or citizens of the world, ask of us here the same high standards of strength and sacrifice which we ask of you. With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God’s work must truly be our own.
never at heart’s ease loves no plays, hears no music … very dangerous
Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much, He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men. He loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mocked himself and scorned his spirit That could be moved to smile at anything. Such men as he be never at heart’s ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.
From Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare, Act 1 Scene 2, Caesar is speaking.
Not naming names, pointing fingers but asking does this passage bring anyone to mind?
I would bet it does but I am not naming anyone.
But it put me in mind of asking about qualifications for public office.
The Constitution of United States is as about as barebones of the qualifications for for the high public offices of both Congress and Executive branch as you could get.
“No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States“
“No Person shall be a Senator who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty Years, and been nine Years a Citizen of the United States, and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State for which he shall be chosen.“
“No Person shall be a Representative who shall not have attained to the Age of twenty five Years, and been seven Years a Citizen of the United States, and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State in which he shall be chosen.”
The only difference in any of these is age based on the argument that the older you get the smarter you get.
It was Garrison Keillor I think, who wanted to ask politicians (but it might have been lecturers) if they had a dog and what kind of dog it was.
Mr. Lincoln told the story of a friendly Kentuckian he once rode with in a carriage. The man offered Lincoln a chew of tobacco. Then a cigar. And finally a sip of brandy. Each offer was politely declined. As they were parting, the Kentuckian said good-humoredly: “See here, stranger, you’re a clever but strange companion. I may never see you again, and I don’t want to offend you, but I want to say this: my experience has taught me that a man who has no vices has damned few virtues. Good-day.”
What might I want to know?
What qualifications might I put in place?
I could embrace the list presented by Big Bill in this speech of Julius Caesar’s in the his play of the same name.
Someone who heard music.
Someone who saw plays.
Someone who smiled.
Someone who could put their heart at ease even when they were in a room with someone greater than themselves.
Boy Howdy, I would settle just for someone who could put their heart at ease.
Lastly on the list I would go to another line of the play.
A line spoken by Brutus.
A funny thing about Brutus but I always took him to be the bad guy and Julius Caesar to have been the injured party.
I took the famous Et tu Brute as an indictment of the selfish, evil man Brutus was.
Truly it isn’t until late that I have come to understand the Mr. Caesar was like this feller in the news I alluded to.
And that Mr. Caesar was devoted to Mr. Caesar and all things Caesar at the expense of all and anything else.
Which brings me to that last qualification for office that Brutus brings to mind.
When asked why he did it, why he rose against Caesar, why didn’t he love Caesar, Brutus replies:
the secret to this creative freedom lets be plain, more capital
This is the second haiku from the same review … but it’s been a bad week for inspiration.
The first line of this restaurant review from the New Yorker reminds me of an exchange in the Alfred Hitchcock movie, Read Window.
A neighbor on the courtyard of James Stewart is a song writer and Grace Kelly can hear him trying out a melody.
“There’s that song again. Where does a man get inspiration to write a song like that?” askes Ms Kelly. ?
“Well, he gets it from the landlady once a month.” Replies Mr. Stewart.
New York is a phenomenal restaurant city, but rarely is it a thrillingly innovative one. As usual, we can blame capital: the cost of operating a food business in this viciously expensive town makes risktaking far too risky. So it’s exhilarating to have a meal that’s genuinely interesting. At Foxface Natural, a chic little restaurant in the East Village, the owners, Sivan Lahat and Ori Kushnir, are doing something almost rebellious in their apparent lack of regard for trends, or social media, or financial success.
The secret to this creative freedom is, let’s be plain, more capital. Lahat and Kushnir are devoted gastronomes; they’re also former techies who earned enough money to quit their day jobs and opened an idiosyncratic sandwich shop called Foxface—because they wanted to, and because they could—which became famous partly on the strength of a camel-meat pita. The sandwich shop is now closed, but the duo remains committed to menu as menagerie: at Foxface Natural, which opened this spring, you may encounter purple clams (with cucumber five ways), Boer goat (smoked, with a tomato-saffron sauce), pig’s blood (a sausage filling), or gooseneck barnacles that resemble dragon claws. “Where do you source your kangaroo?” I asked recently, staring down a marsupial tartare. The ruby meat was lean and subtle, tossed with punchy slivers of pickled rhubarb, spiced intoxicatingly with coriander, fenugreek, and turmeric. (The answer, of course, is Australia.)
There are recognizable flavors at Foxface and recognizable shapes but—in the talented hands of the chef David Santos—rarely both at once. The closest the kitchen comes to convention is a hulking cross-section of striped bass that’s roasted on the bone in a wood-burning oven and served over an explosively flavorful sauce inspired by chraime, a Sephardic tomato stew. That frizzy schnitzel adorning so many tables is a fried disk of sweetbreads, marshmallow light, adorned with chanterelles and corn—a study in yellows and golds. The pasta is a girella: a single, lengthy, snakelike pocket, presented in a spiral, like a jagged flower. Its fillings change; I tried it stuffed with golden tile-fish, buttery and sweet, set atop a sunset-orange sweep of sauce Nantua, bathed in a tarragon broth drizzled tableside.
Foxface engages its small space with satisfying efficiency: order the sourdough, lusciously soft, presented with a plate of cultured butter and a tiny tableau of pickles, and you might see a server pull down a loaf from a ledge on the wall, where a half-dozen boules are set on their sides, like books. Other shelves display bottles from Foxface’s pointedly unconventional wine list. Sitting at the dining bar one evening, I swirled a Vermentino-Moscato blend that looked like apple juice and tasted wild and metallic, like beautiful gasoline. It was strange, assured, unbothered, exquisite. (Dishes $11-$69.)
From a review of Foxface Natural in TABLES FOR TWO in the New Yorker, Sep 25, 2023, Issue 30 Volume 99.
phenomenal but rarely is a thrillingly innovative one
I am of two minds
Who gets to use the best words and word combinations?
Music Critics?
Or …
Restaurant Critics?
New York is a phenomenal restaurant city, but rarely is it a thrillingly innovative one. As usual, we can blame capital: the cost of operating a food business in this viciously expensive town makes risktaking far too risky. So it’s exhilarating to have a meal that’s genuinely interesting. At Foxface Natural, a chic little restaurant in the East Village, the owners, Sivan Lahat and Ori Kushnir, are doing something almost rebellious in their apparent lack of regard for trends, or social media, or financial success.
The secret to this creative freedom is, let’s be plain, more capital. Lahat and Kushnir are devoted gastronomes; they’re also former techies who earned enough money to quit their day jobs and opened an idiosyncratic sandwich shop called Foxface—because they wanted to, and because they could—which became famous partly on the strength of a camel-meat pita. The sandwich shop is now closed, but the duo remains committed to menu as menagerie: at Foxface Natural, which opened this spring, you may encounter purple clams (with cucumber five ways), Boer goat (smoked, with a tomato-saffron sauce), pig’s blood (a sausage filling), or gooseneck barnacles that resemble dragon claws. “Where do you source your kangaroo?” I asked recently, staring down a marsupial tartare. The ruby meat was lean and subtle, tossed with punchy slivers of pickled rhubarb, spiced intoxicatingly with coriander, fenugreek, and turmeric. (The answer, of course, is Australia.)
There are recognizable flavors at Foxface and recognizable shapes but—in the talented hands of the chef David Santos—rarely both at once. The closest the kitchen comes to convention is a hulking cross-section of striped bass that’s roasted on the bone in a wood-burning oven and served over an explosively flavorful sauce inspired by chraime, a Sephardic tomato stew. That frizzy schnitzel adorning so many tables is a fried disk of sweetbreads, marshmallow light, adorned with chanterelles and corn—a study in yellows and golds. The pasta is a girella: a single, lengthy, snakelike pocket, presented in a spiral, like a jagged flower. Its fillings change; I tried it stuffed with golden tile-fish, buttery and sweet, set atop a sunset-orange sweep of sauce Nantua, bathed in a tarragon broth drizzled tableside.
Foxface engages its small space with satisfying efficiency: order the sourdough, lusciously soft, presented with a plate of cultured butter and a tiny tableau of pickles, and you might see a server pull down a loaf from a ledge on the wall, where a half-dozen boules are set on their sides, like books. Other shelves display bottles from Foxface’s pointedly unconventional wine list. Sitting at the dining bar one evening, I swirled a Vermentino-Moscato blend that looked like apple juice and tasted wild and metallic, like beautiful gasoline. It was strange, assured, unbothered, exquisite. (Dishes $11-$69.)
From a review of Foxface Natural in TABLES FOR TWO in the New Yorker, Sep 25, 2023, Issue 30 Volume 99.
No Haiku For You 