Lion Lock, from Slate’s The History of Key Design: From Ancient Wooden Rods to the Hotel Keycard
“Any person using the wrong key in the 1780 lock will find his wrist clamped by the jaws of a fearsome metal lion.”
(via faerypotter)
Lion Lock, from Slate’s The History of Key Design: From Ancient Wooden Rods to the Hotel Keycard
“Any person using the wrong key in the 1780 lock will find his wrist clamped by the jaws of a fearsome metal lion.”
(via faerypotter)
The awesomely insane Heaven and Hell nightclubs of 1890s Paris.
In modern times, you can find a stray cabaret or goth club in most modern metropolitan areas. But back in the late 19th century, your options were limited, albeit merrily deranged. Paris of the 1890s had several supernatural nightlife options, each of them with marvelously outlandish gimmicks.
At this gothic nightspot, visitors pondered their own mortality as they drank on coffins and were served libations (named after diseases) by monks and funeral attendees. Recalls Morrow:
“Large, heavy, wooden coffins, resting on biers, were ranged about the room in an order suggesting the recent happening of a frightful catastrophe. The walls were decorated with skulls and bones, skeletons in grotesque attitudes, battle-pictures, and guillotines in action. Death, carnage, assassination were the dominant note, set in black hangings and illuminated with mottoes on death Bishop said that he would be pleased with a lowly bock. Mr. Thompkins chose cherries a l’eau-de-vie, and I, une menthe. One microbe of Asiatic cholera from the last corpse, one leg of a lively cancer, and one sample of our consumption germ!” moaned the creature toward a black hole at the farther end of the room. Some women among the visitors tittered, others shuddered, and Mr. Thompkins broke out in a cold sweat on his brow, while a curious accompaniment of anger shone in his eyes. Our sleepy pallbearer soon loomed through the darkness with our deadly microbes, and waked the echoes in the “Drink, Macchabees!” he wailed: “drink these noxious potions, which contain thvilest and deadliest poisons!”
But Cabaret du Néant wasn’t the only creepy nightspot in Paris. Later in Bohemian Paris of To-day, Morrow described his evening at the Cabaret de l’Enfer (“The Cabaret of the Inferno”), a Satanically themed nightclub in Montmartre that abutted another cabaret. And according to the author’s account, it was perhaps the trippiest hangout of La Belle Époque:
“”Enter and be damned, the Evil One awaits you!” growled a chorus of rough voices as we hesitated before the scene confronting us. Near us was suspended a caldron over a fire, and hopping within it were half a dozen devil musicians, male and female, playing a selection from “Faust” on stringed instruments, while red imps stood by, prodding with red-hot irons those who lagged in their performance. Crevices in the walls of this room ran with streams of molten gold and silver, and here and there were caverns lit up by smouldering fires from which thick smoke issued, and vapors emitting the odors of a volcano. Flames would suddenly burst from clefts in the rocks, and thunder rolled through the caverns. Red imps were everywhere, darting about noiselessly, some carrying beverages for the thirsty lost souls, others stirring the fires or turning somersaults. Everything was in a high state of motion.”
And right next door to the Cabaret de l’Enfer was Cabaret du Ciel (“The Cabaret of the Sky”), a divinely themed bar where Dante and Father Time greeted visitors and comely ladies dressed as angels pranced around teasing patrons. As Morrow recalled, the evening’s entertainment was presided over by St. Peter himself, who anointed the boozy crowd:
“Flitting about the room were many more angels, all in white robes and with sandals on their feet, and all wearing gauzy wings swaying from their shoulder-blades and brass halos above their yellow wigs. These were the waiters, the garcons of heaven, ready to take orders for drinks. One of these, with the face of a heavy villain in a melodrama and a beard a week old, roared unmelodiously, “The greetings of heaven to thee, brothers! Eternal bliss and happiness are for thee. Mayst thou never swerve from its golden paths! Breathe thou its sacred purity and renovating exaltation. Prepare to meet thy great Creator and don’t forget the garcon!”[Later], without the slightest warning, the head of St. Peter, whiskers and all, appeared in a hole in the sky, and presently all of him emerged, even to his ponderous keys clanging at his girdle. He gazed solemnly down upon the crowd at the tables and thoughtfully scratched his left wing. From behind a dark cloud he brought forth a vessel of white crockery (which was not a wash-bowl) containing (ostensibly) holy water. After several mysterious signs and passes with his bony hands he generously sprinkled the sinners below with a brush dipped in the water; and then, with a parting blessing, he slowly faded into mist.”
more at http://io9.com/5910963/the-awesomely-insane-heaven-and-hell-nightclubs-of-1800s-paris
(via froybot)
“Before you conference call Child Services and Animal Control, let Krebs explain: ‘It was taken at about 1:30am after my 7-month-old son decided he wanted to wake up and play with some toys…our dog Molly decided to walk in front of the camera and yawn the moment I took this shot.” Believe it or not, that mouth doesn’t belong to a wooly mammoth preparing to carry the newborn in her jaws to her winter cave. That’s just Molly being sleepy.’”
-Yahoo Shine
(Source: zoeteho)
My grandpa.
I love documenting my family members. It´s nice to take photos of pretty girls in studio but for me the true value of photography lies in capturing the passing moments of our lives. Good documentary photography is like an extension of your memory which can give back shape to your vague memories from the past.
Thanks to this photo I´ll always remember that spring morning when I was in park with my sister shooting some French inspired photos. And my grandpa arrived on this gorgeous vintage bicycle.
I mean, it literally has been my childhood and suddenly it all came down to really just one random scene, with us jumping through a fireplace, and then it was over. But because you shoot out of sequence, it’s often just “Turn left, cross the room, okay, that’s a wrap.” And you’re done. It’s very odd. Because suddenly it was all over, just like that. - Rupert
(via writeoutoflove)
(via white-snowflake)
(Source: zoeteho)
(via white-snowflake)
I Wish This Was
Many cities are full of vacant storefronts and people who need things. Made byCandy Chang, these stickers are an easy tool to voice what you want, where you want it. Just fill them out and put them on abandoned buildings and beyond. The stickers are custom vinyl and they can be easily removed without damaging property. It’s a fun, low-barrier tool to provide civic input on-site, and the responses reflect the hopes, dreams, and colorful imaginations of different neighborhoods.
(via writeoutoflove)
(Source: sdzoo, via pbsparents)
German tv magazine…
I also love “Assi Watson” *gigglesnort*
Superhirn Holmes
Superhirn Holmes
Superhirn Holmes
What…
Art, Photography, Dance, Books, Considerably awesome use of language