The odd thing about this odd speculation for an odd look advancing a single odd year into the future is that it is so, well, odd. Here on page 1009 of the January-June volume of Popular Mechanics the editors speculated on what the approaching year might bring in the evolution/revolution of the radio. Radio as a popular medium was relatively new-ish in 1922 and the in six quick years very much developed for wide use, and so it must have appeared not too long a leap to jump into a radio for 1930 that offered images to accompany the broadcast. The idea of “seeing by wireless” was already upon folks back then, or at least the technology was.
Who knew that Harry Reid was so concerned about UFOs? As reported in Politico this week, he secured twenty million dollars in appropriations for the Advanced Aviation Threat Identification Program (AATIP) in 2009. The program conducted pilot interviews and gathered flight recordings until 2011.
So here’s the question: why was the AATIP kept secret? National security? Or perhaps national embarrassment? Whatever one thinks about UFOs — are they natural phenomena, military aircraft, mass hysteria, or alien visitors? — we can agree that they are freighted with a lot of meaning. Everyone has an opinion.
How did this come to be? In 1946, Swedish and Finnish observers reported “ghost rockets” flying over Scandinavia. In the United States, they became known as “flying saucers.” This is the starting point for historian Greg Eghigian who discusses the science and culture of UFOs in the twentieth century. Eghigian is professor of history at Penn State University. He also holds the Charles A. Lindbergh Chair in Aerospace History at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.
In the 19th century, dust jackets on books were just protective paper wrappers, thrown away after a book was purchased. The prized cover was the leather underneath, and although some of these bindings had elegant designs, the dust jacket rarely referenced the interior contents. The Illustrated Dust Jacket, 1920-1970 by Martin Salisbury, out November 21 from Thames & Hudson, chronicles how this once disposable object became a major creative force in publishing.
“In view of its origins as a plain protection to be discarded on purchase, and the relatively recent acceptance of the detachable jacket as an integral part of the book and its identity, it is ironic that for today’s book collectors the jacket is key — the presence of an original jacket on a sought-after first edition now greatly adds to its value,” Salisbury writes in the book. The Illustrated Dust Jacket concentrates on the 20th-century heyday of the dust jacket, when artists were experimenting with printing and illustration techniques, and publishers were recognizing its advertising potential. Although the first known illustrated dust jacket dates to the 1830s, this was the era in which it was actively designed.
“I am the ghost in the form of a weasel and I shall haunt you,” proclaimed Gef, a spectral creature that became part of the Irving family’s daily life in 1931. James Irving, age 58, Margaret, age 54, and their daughter Voirrey, age 13, collectively experienced the manifestation of Gef at their farmhouse on the Isle of Man. As James would later describe, what started as a “tap, tap, tap at night” within their walls developed into an ongoing conversation with this astute, and often snide, “man-weasel” who had decided to make their isolated home his own abode.
In his final years, Paul Cézanne worked from a quiet studio in Aix-en-Provence, having returned to live in his hometown as his health waned. He had long been nomadic, traveling between Paris and the south of France, and this studio of his own design was packed with objects from his life. Pitchers, glass bottles, and ceramic containers lined an overhead shelf, presided over by a crucifix (a sign of his return to Catholicism); outside was a view to Mont Sainte-Victoire, which he painted numerous times. The studio even had a specially-designed portal so Cézanne could move big canvases like his “Les Grandes Baigneuses” to the garden, to paint in the natural light.
The “Golden Age” of magic coincided with the heyday of the lithographic poster, and acts involving levitation, decapitation, escapes, hypnotism, and other illusions were lavishly advertised. Illusions: The Art of Magic, out now from Abrams, features 250 examples of these illustrated posters, dating from the 19th to early 20th centuries, as well as a series of essays exploring the history and visuals of magic.
The book, edited by Suzanne Sauvage, Christian Vachon, and Marc H. Choko, is published in conjunction with an exhibition of the same name currently at the McCord Museum in Montreal. The museum holds the Allan Slaight Collection, which includes over 600 posters, along with more than 1,000 documents related to Harry Houdini. The legendary escape artist does appear in Illusions, upside down in the water-torture cell or escaping after being buried alive, but there are numerous names that are now obscure. Ersy Contogouris, assistant professor at the Université de Montréal, explores the women whose names “have largely been left out of magic histories.”
Sky-Watcher unveiled its Stargate Truss-Tube Dobsonian Telescopes at NEAF. These large 18- and 20-inch f/4 reflectors (starting at $5,999) are constructed around conical fused-borosilicate primary and cellular secondary mirrors with 94% reflective aluminum coatings. The modular truss design divides the total weight of each scope into manageable sections that assemble quickly in the field. The base model includes a 2-inch dual-speed Crayford focuser, 9×50 finder scope, as well as 28- and 10-mm LET eyepieces. Additional accessories include three 2.3 lb. counterweights, a truss shroud, and tool-free truss clamps. Both scopes are also available with motorized Go To and a SynScan hand controller at additional cost, featuring dual encoders that permit manual slewing without losing alignment. See manufacturer’s website for additional details.