In London recently I visited one of my favourite haunts – the London Science Museum, where they have an excellent collection of steam engines, among other things. On a previous visit I managed to coincide with a live steam day when they had several of the engines operating under steam.
On that day I was spellbound by the awesome ‘breathy’ sound of the engine and the impressive sight of the huge flywheel spun up to around 300 revolutions per minute. The sensation of speed and fury was palpable – a really immersive way to come to grips with the impact these engines would have made on a public unused to artificial power on such a scale.
I was disappointed on the most recent visit to find that there was no sign these engines had been recently operated under steam, so they were relegated to static displays that most people hurried past to get to other parts of the museum. Even the reorganisation into themes – which may be fine for a half-hour glance at the highlights – meant there wasn’t a good sense of how these machines evolved from fairly basic low-pressure engines to highly sophisticated efficient and high-power engines that drove the industrial revolution until well into the middle of last century.
While museum practice has changed markedly over the past decade, and mostly for the better, I certainly hope that future museum-goers will have the opportunity to see these machines in action so the sights are enriched by the sounds of the great beam engine – or the almost silence of the huge red mine lifting engine.
In the meantime – Australia’s Powerhouse Museum in Sydney actually has the world’s oldest Boulton and Watt rotative engine – built in 1785 and used for 102 years in the Whitbread Brewery in London.
Posted by Jerry on June 21st, 2007 — Posted in Journal, New media
Moments of timeless pleasure. That’s the slogan on the treasure trove of Ghirardelli chocolate that leapt unannounced from an otherwise nondescript package that arrived today 🙂
You might recall that aaaages ago, new media researcher Angela Thomas ran a competition to work out her destination in June. The clues emerged day by day like breadcrumbs until with a bit of detective work I managed to solve the puzzle. And today came the prize – and what a prize! I was expecting perhaps a square or two, but Sharon squealed with delight as she saw what emerged from the package
This is my favourite – dark chocolate (think LOTS of antioxidants 😉 and the wonderful sample bag of the range of Ghirardelli chocolates – all the way from San Francisco.
Angela – this is wonderful – Thank you, and a big hug from us both 🙂
Travel fiddles are not new. Dancing masters of the 17th century needed a portable instrument that could be played in homes in order to teach dancing to young ladies and gentlemen. So the problem of portability has always been an issue. In these days of air travel, a compact travel instrument is a useful item. There are several modern ‘backpackers’ guitars and mandolins, and very few backpackers fiddles or violins.
When at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London I not only paid homage to the hardanger fiddle on which mine is based, but found these delightful instruments that might well serve as the basis for a decent backpacker violin.
The first were a couple of ‘pochette’ fiddles – designed to fit both fiddle and bow into a small leather tube which could be easily carried or placed in a deep pocket in one’s coat.
The bow appears to be about one quarter size.
And this one
But possibly the most practical and one I am tempted to model is this one – more box-like and closer to modern backpacker mandolins
Something like this with a half-size bow could well fit into a carry-on bag – ideal for those jet-lagged late nights in hotel rooms – a nice quiet instrument to play a few tunes on
They may look basic, but these machines helped bring about a revolution – the Industrial Revolution no less! These were the machines that Ned Ludd – founder of the Luddites movement protested so violently against. He realised that by mechanising certain processes, there would be massive social upheaval as people were replaced by machines. You can see these examples for yourself at London’s Science Museum in South Kensington.
Richard Arkwright developed these innovations (not inventions – they had precursors) into a system between 1765 and 1775 – about the time Capt James Cook was checking out the transit of venus and checking out the east coast of Australia. The system came to be known as the textile mill or factory.
This concept arose from his appreciation that the manufacture of cotton yarn was a series of discrete operations that could be carried out by special purpose machines, brought together in one place and driven from a single power source, such as a water mill, or later, a steam engine. Before this time, most textiles were produced individually in cottage industries by spinners and weavers. The production of cotton lagged way behind that of wool or linen.
But there were impacts. The factory system brought England to the forefront of textile manufacturing in the nineteenth century, but it also brought about the collapse of the of the Indian cotton industry – while demand for raw cotton sustained the slave economy in the USA.
Carding machine
According to the museum info cards the carding machine disentangles, loosens and straightens the cotton fibres. The fibres are fed between two drums which are covered with leather ‘cards’ embedded with bent wire teeth. A third drum strips off the fibres in a continuous sheet which is then lifted off to form a ‘sliver’.
Lantern drawing frame
The sliver is then passed to the lantern frame where it is elongated and narrowed, while being twisted to that it becomes strong enough to handle. The sliver is then called a ‘roving’ or ‘slubbing’ (hence the term ‘slub linen’).
Four spool and eight spool spinning machines
The four spool machine closely resembles the design Arkwright patented in 1769. Both machines spin yarnfrom teh cotton rovings produced by the drawing frame.
The later eight-spooled machine effectively doubled output. Both were powered by water wheels.
The eight-spool machine was effectively two four-spool machines joined together.
Posted by Jerry on June 19th, 2007 — Posted in Journal, Travel
Signs communicate a lot about a culture – both in terms of what they say, and how they say it. Signs show the boundaries of a society’s identity, marking the limits, or reflecting on the limits, such as where a sign has been altered, or where non-official signs are placed, such as graffiti and stencil art.
Paris is a place with style – its street signs are not merely utilitarian, but are artistically designed too.
This sign was designed in the 1920s
This one also gives the significance of the name – in this case the first female musical director of the orchestra.
Not all big yellow ‘M’ signs refer to a scottish restaurant – this one points out the entrance to the Metro station – the underground subway train system
And in a city where motorbikes dominate the traffic – and the parking, it’s interesting to see that mopeds here are have their own separate identity – even in the process of saying ‘No Parking’
Some signs point to good food 🙂
Others, such as this stencil sign on a footpath present a warning against/of racism.
This one loosely says
“Foreigners, don’t leave us alone with these “french” that are full of fear of the other, and superiority feeling.”
– thanks to ‘Frenchguy’ who left a comment below.
A Google translation yielded:
Abroad (Foreign visitors). Do not leave us alone with these ‘French’. Beef fear another ox’s sense of superiority
It seems ambiguous, and it is difficult to know whether the ‘beef’ refers to Frankish french or immigrant French. Either way this place clearly still has some issues with multicultural integration – unofficially of course. [NB see comment by ‘French guy” below – I could be reading this incorrectly, I would love to think this was an internationalist message as this guy reckons – please confirm or otherwise which is the most accurate translation 🙂 Thanks – Jerry]
Other stencil art is truly charming – like this one in Montmartre’s artist district
Just beyond this sign were quite a number of portrait artists touting for the tourist euro – several of them were quite good too.
And the French are proud of their (relatively) tidy streets (aside from the animal droppings). This sign tells people not to throw their rubbish under penalty of a fine. By order of the sanitation department of Paris.
And that’s just a few of the myriad signs that adorn Paris 🙂
