memoir

MoCCA Fest

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: This is an interesting year for me to focus on MoCCA, the annual comic con manisfestation of the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art) now it its 24th year. I think Kim and I have been going to this comics fest since its early days at the Puck Building downtown. From there it bounced a bit and had homes at various locations including the Armory, Chelsea and now the Metropolitan Pavilion on West 18th Street. Sponsored by The Society of Illustrators (which probably deserves its own post covering its august history), MoCCA is an annual March event by which we tell the comics calendar here in New York City. Over time it has grown like topsy and there was a moment yesterday afternoon when I literally couldn’t move in the gathered crowd!

This year was a bit special for Deitch Studio because Kim’s new book, How I Make Comics, is being previewed there with advanced copies, a talk and signings. We are so excited to see the book at long last! So we had a bit more of a purpose there than our more usual ramblings.

Kim and Bill kicking off the talk and Bill’s copy of Kim’s new book here.

However, the road to it was complicated this year and in part I write because I think you’ve had some hurried Pictorama posts on recent weekends. To start at the beginning, as snow buried New York repeatedly in March Kim and I weren’t doing our morning walk to work – not surprisingly, it was lousy walking. (I wrote about those walks not long ago here.) He’d had some pain and walking seemed to aliviate it, however without it, about a month ago we realized that he was having increased pain – and, alarmingly, trouble walking at all. A trip to the ER followed three Saturdays ago, and it turns out he had a severely herniated disc.

It was clear that surgery was in the offing – eschewing actual emergency surgery, we started on the bumpy road which led us to an operation last Thursday (micro surgery – I’d only considered this on animals via work oddly enough), although some issues kept him in the jug until a week ago today. (I liked the hospital okay enough although I think our animal hospital is much nicer – I’d much rather go there!)

This was one of those rarified items that turned up – never saw this before!

In general surgery seems to have been a great success. He’s walking much better, improving daily, although he needs to develop some muscle for any distance again. No bending, lifting or twisting – we seem to be good about the lifting but the bending and twisting, well…he tries. Most importantly for all involved, he was back in his work chair for pretty much full days starting on Monday – he’s made his halfway through the next book already and has a full head of steam.

Kim’s messier (even) than usual work table and area shown here – as shown at the slide show yesterday.

All this to say, it’s been a busy time on the ground here at Deitch Studio and we were on a deadline with MoCCA kicking off the book yesterday. I’m pleased to say it was a great day and really much fun. John Kelly of Dummyzine fame (@dummyzine) invited Kim to sit at his table for part of the day, joining Bob Camp of Ren and Stimpy fame. John is working on a long interview with Kim for Dummy which we look forward to coming out later this year.

Mark Newgarden, John and Kim looking over some of John’s rare Deitch items.

At lunchtime our friend and comics historian Bill Kartalopoulos (@kartalopoulos) did a great interview with Kim which covered process (what fun to see one of Kim’s pages go from rough pencils to a tight lay out and then to an inked page through the miracle of Powerpoint), but also delved into some family history which plays out in How I Make Comics. He spent some time on my favorite story in the collection, The Two Maries, about Kim’s mom and grandmother hitchhiking from Denver to LA in 1939.

A young and very pretty Marie Deitch (nee Billingsley) shown here. I knew her in later years and was very fond of her.

Yours truly and Pam’s Pictorama got a shout out as well – thank you Bill! And we were so pleased to see how many folks showed up for the talk – a thank you to those of you who made it.

Then it was over to the Fantagraphics table (Kim’s longstanding publisher and a big presence at the con) to sign advanced copies of the book and meeting folks which is always fun. I get to see some early, rare appearances of Kim’s work in volumes people have collected and want him to sign. Amazing! This fan girl is thrilled!

We’re back today for more – if you are around say hello! Kim is signing from 1-2:00 today and otherwise we will spend some time back with John and his other guests. I will man the box of original art for sale so come on by – and back to more traditional Pictorama next week!

Ringing

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: I guess like most people, sometimes I see something and it sticks with me and nags at me until I do something. This ring was one of those things. I don’t know why but I kept imagining it on my hand and it just seemed to belong there and to me. However, it was way at the top end for what I spend on jewelry, and never from someone online and from whom I have never purchased before. Nonetheless, I kept checking and I was relieved it never showed up with a big sold on it when I looked. (A few other jewelry posts can be found here and here.) Pictorama readers know I do love jewelry!

Another utterly favorite ring. This is an antique cameo set in a contemporary gold setting. Saw this in LA on a business trip and had to contact the store a week later and have it sent! Clearly I have a thing for cameo rings.

Their description of the ring from their website is as follows: This exquisite cameo ring dates from the Victorian era, the latter half of the 19th century, circa 1880. Cupid (or Eros) is depicted as a chubby little cherub, reaching up to catch Psyche who, in butterfly form, flutters above him. The pair are carved from white hardstone agate over a vivid deep apple green background. The panel as bordered by glistening rose cut diamonds and raised up on a wonderfully intricate pseudo-claw openworked gallery. Ornate shoulders and a reeded band complete the elegant aesthetic. Crafted in 18 carat gold throughout. Era: Victorian, circa 1880. The photo I am using today is from their website.

In addition to already being expensive, it was also in Great Britain so there would be a fee for the conversion to pounds, and the tariffs had already gone into place so even more expensive. Not only that but it seemed complicated to figure out which discouraged me. However, I was having a hard time over the holidays this year and I decided to make this gift to myself.

Sadly though it became an almost three month saga of international UPS madness. Pictorama readers know that I purchase many things from Britain. Although they are generally not at this price point I have rarely had a significant issue (one Felix photo postcard was lost in the mail and not refunded as Royal Mail had proof it had made it “here”) with items being delivered. Even during this same time a cat painting showed up unscathed.

So it either caught their attention because it was more expensive or it was just the time for it to happen, but this ring got stuck in Customs and absolutely nothing I did could spring it. The fees had been paid and that didn’t even seem to be the issue. Online tracking just indicated that it was stuck in Customs. Every phone call to International UPS is an automatic wait of 50 minutes or more. It became like a part-time job trying to liberate it. The ring made it all the way to Newark, only to be returned to England, virtually while I argued with them on the phone. Utterly maddening!

Fortunately the couple I was purchasing this from in Britain were utterly lovely. The proprietors of Lost Owl jewelry, they give the impression of leading a somewhat idyllic life in with their small chldren in the British countryside – wandering from one end to the other buying up treasures to share with the likes of me. (Find them in Instagram @lostowl.jewelry or their website here. Engage at your own risk and peril to your bank account.)

While I am sure their life is hectic and fraught like all of ours, nevertheless the illusion is lovely and somewhat enchanting. They do live sales sometimes on Sunday night which are cozy and wonderful looks at jewelry I really cannot afford – a very pleasant hour or so of looking however. If I lived anywhere near them I would just simply spend all my money on jewelry from them and be ruined. The hand wrought gold chains alone are enough to break me! (Although I am determined to have one eventually.)

Meanwhile, they had an agent on their end working on it too as obviously they sell to the US frequently. They remained determined and endlessly encouraging as my heart sank. I began to wonder if I would be able to love the ring despite its arduous history finding its way to our shores.

After the return to England, we doubled down and as it returned I made daily calls to different agents in India who represented UPS. (Some maddeningly insisted that there was no record of any prior calls.) I submitted personal information via email on demand, like an idiot. What can I say – I was losing all reason dealing with a system which is evidently quite broken. Who knew?

At last it arrived safely at my building, handed to me rather nonchalantly by my doorman one evening upon my return home from work in early March. I will say that I really love it and wear it almost daily, fighting for my right hand attention with my hither till now favorite boulder opal. (See a post about that ring here and my love of opals in general here.)

I wonder what it is about the ring that so attracts me, about the symbolism of Cupid and Psyche, as represented by the butterfly. Although Cupid of course represents romance, the combination of the two also seems to represent transformation, also of love and pleasure. I will say it is like having a little story on my hand which I love.

Other than to tell the cautionary tale, I bear no grudges against it at all and the ring only brings me joy. It seems to generate its own light on my hand. In the end it is everything I would hope it would be. When asked about how many rings can I wear I remind folks that I have ten fingers and 365 days a year.

Family Pics

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: A short post today and an unusual one as I don’t think I very often feature photos of my own childhood. However these two have been hovering on my desk for a bit and I have decided to share them. Admittedly it is a bit indulgent; they are largely photos only a family member could love, and not necessarily aesthetically special.

The black and white photo is my mom and dad and sister Loren. I am the babe in arms and according to the date on this, November 1964, I am 9 months old. It was taken in front of my maternal grandmother’s home, with the camera facing away from the house. (I wrote a long early post about my grandmother’s house and it is here.) My apologies to my brother Edward but these were take several years before he was born.

It is a bit rare really to have all of us in a photo as my father, the camera man, usually took the photo. He is wearing a trench coat (I still have one of his Burberry trench coats – they were a constand over the years like his very long Eddie Bauer down coats in the winter.) Dad is not wearing a hat which is very unusual. It would have been a wool cap.

Mom seems to be wearing a long trench coat as well and this was unusual – Dad must have bought it for her. I can’t really see her hair in this but it would have been some kind of longish at that time. Loren is two here, her life long curly hair already in evidence – she’d fight that through her teen years but I, of the straight hair, always liked it. I like this little double breasted plaid coat she is sporting.

Mom holds a chubby me in a fluffy top and be-pom pommed hat. I like this long fall shadow outlining use to the left. No idea who took this picture but I would make a guess it may have been my mother’s brother and this is probably Thanksgiving. I do not believe that wildly finned, white car behind us is ours. I think we may have been sporting a woody station wagon in the day – my family never went in for sporty cars.

My sister Loren on the left and me in a profusion of posies on the right. I don’t think these dresses inhibited some wild running around as soon as a few minutes after this – Loren already looks like she is leaping off!

The other photo (they were sort of stuffed together in a bit of plastic when I found them) is early color and is Easter Sunday 1966, two years later. My sister, in the pink, and I are clad in unlikely dresses for the holiday. I suspect they were gifts from my grandmother – I almost wonder if she made them but probably not. Our normal attire ran to the indestructible but were were clearly meant to be memorialized on this occasion as properly dressed little girls.

We would have had an Easter egg hunt either out in the yard or, if the weather didn’t cooperate, in the house. The ones in the yard, which I believe were courtesy of my uncle, are glorious in my memory. My (Jewish) father always had Easter baskets for us (usually Russell Stover ones) which were also wonderful. (I can remember a fascination with a soft, lifelike, tiny toy chick someone gave me one year and I was very sad when it got lost in the hustle and bustle of things.)

Loren is looking a bit angelic here although I knew her well enough to say she was probably like she was shot out of a canon two minutes later – and hadn’t even started on a sugar high. These dresses are really wearing us! The fabric comes back as unforgiving even now as I look at it. Oh the bows and flowers! I feel like my hair is a bit of a babu mullet here.

We are seated on a couch that lives in memory as an itchy green sort of flocked fabric. That small bit of flowered wallpaper brings back memories of my grandmother’s living room – and the blinds on the windows behind us were often closed, probably so the furniture wouldn’t fade. It was therefore usually a somewhat dark but not unpleasant room which I spent many hours happily in. A television ultimately found its way into that room in a giant wooden console that included a very fancy radio and record player.

The family would have headed into the kitchen where we would sit around an expanded table (or if the guest list was really big it would have reached through the living room) and as it was Easter there would have been a wonderful cakey homemade bread, fried dough (these were Italians doing this cooking!), ham, sausage and depending maybe my grandmother’s rather incredible meatballs. (I didn’t become a vegetarian for many years yet to come. I have attempted to make a fakemeat version of her meatballs!)

At that time Loren and I were the very first grandchildren of our generation – it would proliferate with the addition of my brother and several cousins over time. Sadly now several of those, including my sister, died very young and are already no longer with us. However, here we are, at the beginning of it all – a twinkle in everyone’s eye for the spring holiday.

Red Hot

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Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: I believe in my last post I opined a bit on the advent of more coming snow – here on the East Coast it has been a winter of record snow delivery. As promised 19 more inches of the stuff was delivered in a twelve-hour period. Blackie, ever the card, decided to begin projectile vomiting at 4am that morning, which continued into the afternoon. I have a theory that the boy wants me to have every possible experience as a client at the animal hospital where I work and thereby aide my fundraising prowess a notch.

Pretty good snowman this week, in front of a diner on First Avenue.

I watched him carefully and luckily by afternoon (the mounting snow had not stopped or even slowed) he rallied and held food down and continued to. However, he did make a visit to the local vet as a result later in the week for his trouble. As a diabetic cat we need to keep an eye on swings in his fructose levels. Shown below, he is enduring having his blood checked. Poor little man! His sugar, while a bit high, is now stable and his insulin remains the same.

Poor Blackie, in the temporary cone of shame at the vet so he doesn’t nip during the blood draw.

However, this weekend has dawned sunny, some fog burning off after a nice (comparatively) warm front moved in. Our snow has been reduced to manageable piles – although I just saw that we need to expect a bit more tomorrow. Meanwhile, I have chosen this odd but compelling postcard above to help plant my mental seeds for spring as I am ready for it this year.

Pams-Pictorama.com Collection. (Although admittedly MIA!)

I am deeply fond of cyanotypes and I own a few. One post covers a several of mine but also mentions a lovely book of cyanotypes from a collection called Ipswich Days. (You can read the post here.) In the process of writing this, I forgot that I had the one shown above (which I wrote briefly about here back in 2014 although the post is more about the odd toy shown). It seems I thought I may have given it away which helps to explain my memory loss concerning it.

I looked into the process a bit this morning and frankly have not come up with a better definition than pink or red cyanotype – although again, this is a mass produced card, not a real single photo image. I did find this startlingly beautiful pink and blue cyanotype card, for sale on eBay for $35 at the time of writing. I also found the other pink card which seems to be the same process as mine and is also French, a New Year’s card. (It is a different postcard publisher however.)

A wowza, but not in Pams-Pictorama.com Collection.

My card has a slightly iridescent and surreal look through a flower to the image of a woman holding a similar flower, a Gerber daisy comes to mind. She’s an early 20th century beauty from what we can see of her and it is a trippy spring she seems to foretell. Some sort of a dark leafy branch is in the foreground of the image giving it more depth, as do the shadows under the “flower”.

Looks like the same process but a different French company produced it. Not in Pams-Pictorama.com Collection either.

As mentioned above, the marking on my card (front and back) is PC Paris, however the company is WS Diamant G.E.F. which is a German company, the initials probably referring to a process copyright. PC Paris (probably short for Photo-Ciné Paris in this case) was a major distributor of real photo postcards in the 1910’s-’30’s. I gather from my research that some of their line were the more risqué postcards of French fame. Ooo-la-la as they say!

Not surprisingly, our 2026 groundhog forecaster warned of a late spring. (I worry he was subsequently buried under snow here in the tri-state area. I hope he is napping) The farmer’s almanac tells us it will be a very warm one once it gets here – weather whiplash once again. Orwasher’s, our bread and baked goods purveyor of old New York fame, has begun a Purim push of treats (a previous post devoted to homemade hamantaschen can be found here) so I guess Easter isn’t too far off either. I saw (bright pink!) hydrangea for sale at the deli yesterday and I know my dahlias await planting in late April. The magnolia, cherry trees and peonies will be the first out however and I can’t wait to see them this year.

Boxed

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Pictorama readers may already know I have a hard time resisting a good box or cabinet – decorative storage tends to make me feel like I will, at long last, be able to organize my life and wayward possessions into some beautiful state of organization. And although time and experience show that I continue to fall short, I remain quite drawn to beautiful boxes.

I purchased this box for myself for my birthday this year. Around my birthday I received a Valentine’s Day invitation for a two-day sale at a location I have been curious about and never had a chance to visit, Maxim Dimitry. It originally appeared in my Instagram feed a while back and I signed up for emails, but the holidays were busy and I was out of town for part of December, so I had not been yet. However, a few weeks back I stopped by on my way home on the first evening of a two-day sale. At first the address, 75 East 93rd Street, confused me and I wandered the corner of 93rd and Park for more than a few minutes. There was even a folding sign for the sale, so I knew I was in the right place. However, the building is a Russian Orthodox Church and therein the confusion until I found the appropriate side entrance.

Other side of the Orthodox Church enclave I was in? Found this online.

The interior of the building was architecturally interesting on its own as I went up a worn staircase (having noted faux Russian icons for sale at the front desk), however the room I was shown to was small but quite exquisite, paneled in lovely old dark wood with a beautiful marble fireplace. Large windows look south and provide beautiful light for looking at things, although it was winter and the light started to fail early. There are a few jewelry cases and other items line the windowsills and shelves. Along one wall was antique jewelry (what I was really there for), and the held other lovely designs by the young man proprietor, Maxim Schidlovsky.

Maxim and I chatted while I looked and ultimately compared notes a bit on our Russian heritage – dad’s family for me. Although I did purchase something from the jewelry showcase (spoiler – an opal, no surprise, right?) which I will show in a future post, I was also very attracted to the display of antique boxes along the window shelf. (Please note that his own designs can be found on his website here.)

From the Maxim Dimitry website. I didn’t think to take a photo.

As I have already opined, boxes are like catnip to me and there is something about the heft, feel and look of this small bronze box that is very reminiscent of my paternal grandmother, and I picked it up immediately. (I have written about Tootsie, aka Gertrude, Butler before and one of those posts can be found here.) Although I do not have such a box from her, nor do I have a specific memory of one, the very tactile experience of something similar comes to mind when I hold it. I’m quite sure in the endless poking around in her things I did as a small child there must have been something similar tucked away in my brain. With her love of stuff, purchased endlessly at auction, it is fitting of the esthetic I would conjure for her as well.

Box is about not quite 3.5 inches by 4 inches.

Although I believe I will keep my (admittedly many) rings in it I believe it started life as a cigarette box. Its markings inform us that it was made for RH Macy Department stores, probably around 1912. It is lined with cedar wood (which I gather was used for cigars and cigarettes to keep them fresh), and the bronze finish was one the company called verde. It is the deep green color and the intact silver trim which really sell this little beauty. The company which produced it, Heintz Art Metal Shop, would have only just patented this process (it seems to be about applying the silver decoration smoothly without soldering it?) when Otto Heintz began selling these to Macy’s whose empire was still in its ascension.

At that time Macy’s would have been in more or less its sixth decade since its founding originally on 14th Street here in New York and would of course continue to grow through the early decades of the 20th century. It also would be about to embark on a collaboration with The Metropolitan Museum of Art for a project to bring modern design to the public that last from 1914-1928.

Cedar wood lining
Maker’s mark

Otto died unexpectedly young and Heintz Art Metals, a family business he inherited and reimagined, ends up being a relatively short-lived venture with him at the helm after his top person left for a competitor. However, I do see evidence of these boxes and related desk item for sale online although this one is in fairly pristine condition. Frequently either the silver or the bronze has been poorly cleaned and damaged driving the price down or lovely examples like this one going for more.

Although there were other very beautiful boxes which might have suited my intentions (still that vague idea of a jewelry box for the house in New Jersey – I may ultimately have to go back for another), this one reminded me so of Gertie that it was hard to let go. It has been like having a little visit with her. Mr. Schidlovsky, saw my dilemma and stepped in with an offer I could not refuse and remain very grateful for. My only dilemma is that I like it so much I am not all inclined to take it to New Jersey where I will see it less often and I think I need a spot for it here on my dresser where it can pick up some of the small jewelry overflow. I will happily keep a weather eye out for his next sale.

Birthday Bits

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: I know I did a sort of a birthday tease yesterday and I promise I will get to a birthday gift review soon, but first I have a few other birthday bits I acquired and tales of a day downtown as Manhattans mountains of snow finally started to melt around us. Luckily, despite temperatures hitting almost 40 degrees, the melt remained slow and rivers did not actually form in the streets, at corners here the way they will. My feet are so tired of wearing and walking long distances in boots! I had sneakers on and luckily we weren’t washed away. It was Valentine’s Day and the warmest day in months so all of Manhattan was out and about.

Perhaps a dubious purchase of the day, see below.

We started at Forbidden Planet. Kim has been looking for reprints of classic DC comics and wanted to see if they had anything to feed the kitty on this score. He’s been buying them in NJ at Jay & Bob’s Secret Stash in Red Bank but has pretty much come to the end of the line of their stock. Can’t seem to find them online – in case folks have suggestions.

Inside Forbidden Planet – I’ve never been in this location before.

As we headed east we discovered a tiny new store on East 9th Street called Pillow Cat Books (328 East 9th Street, or online here). It is tiny and was quite crowded when we got there, almost so much I debated if we could go in. With a name like that I had to try however. Finally, it thinned out though and so we did and eventually it emptied to the point where we could see things and eventually buy something.

Several shelves of vintage books of all sorts are along one wall but maddeningly high and virtually out of reach. A few attempts did show them to be extremely pricey so we gave up on much trying. Algonquin Cat with illustrations by Hilary Knight of Eloise fame piqued my interest although it was in a locked cabinet, so I didn’t get to have a look. I do see that recent reprints of it are very affordable. I suspect this was an earlier edition. I may take a flyer on it out of curiosity, even not having seen it. I do not need a first edition.

The old books were on the top shelves!

While there, I did however buy a Kit-Cat Klock (aka Felix) clock. Now you might be surprised that I don’t have one and I have had a few in the past, all have suffered one fate or another. The Kit Cat Klock was introduced in 1932 by the Allied Clock Company, created by Earl Arnault and designed by Clifford Stone. These clocks have in some ways come a long way from their 1930’s roots when they were made of metal rather than plastic, minus the later addition of whiskers and bowtie. Still, they are remarkably similar to the original.

My clock purchase.

I find them very cheerful and the new design has the advantage of functioning while sitting on a shelf without the tail, if you are so inclined. (In my experience the tail is the weak part of the operation, and I believe in the older design the clock didn’t work without it swinging.) I always had it on a wall in the kitchen and I may return to that location – I like a clock in the kitchen although now there’s the microwave. Anyway, I purchased the classic black option – as interesting as the other colors were. My former brother in-law was scared of Felix clocks in the way some people are afraid of clowns. I never understood it but was concerned back in the day when I thought he might come to the apartment.

House puss by the front door at Pillow Cat Books.

Meanwhile, a pleasantly plump tabby cat of the establishment sat by the front door, enduring a certain amount of attention. I think there was sign on the front door which warned of his mercurial temperament. He deigned to receive a few head scritches on our way out.

The back area at the Rare Book Room – it is tantalizingly close, but we may not paw through it. Sigh. Always sure great treasures are hidden there!

After swinging further east and discovering that nothing we wanted to poke into was open, we hit Alabaster Books on Fourth Avenue. We’ve purchased books there although not recently. Years ago and for many years they had a lovely calico cat I liked to visit. While there I did note and contemplate an illustrated children’s book by Rumor Godden (who wrote Black Narcissus), but curious as I was about the writing, I didn’t care for the illustrations.

The view from my perch at the Rare Book Room.

Next up and always a favorite was the Rare Book Room at the Strand. They tend to move their small selection of random fiction around and I had to go looking for it again. Luckily they now have it perched next to some comfy chairs which allowed for better looking while seated low. Last year that shelf revealed Maisie’s Sister by Rosa Mulholland which set off a year of tracking down and reading those books. (Posts about them can be found here and here.) I brought home two books, one more promising than the other, The Wild Ruthvens by Curtis Yorke, and (the less promising Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall by Charles Major. Curtis Yorke is evidently the nom de plume for a prolific Scottish writer, Susan Rowley Richmond Lee. Perhaps more to come on her in future posts.

Valentine view of the bar at Old Town yesterday.
Pulled this off the internet – nice to admire their neon sign!

We rounded off the afternoon with lunch at the Old Town Bar on 18th Street. Kim had a veggie burger and I had a rather notable grilled cheese with mushrooms on pumpernickel – which they noted was a personal favorite of former governor Pataki. That notwithstanding, it was a memorable grilled cheese and plate of fries. While many stores were jam-packed, we were pleasantly surprised to find the bar a quiet and half-filled interlude by two in the afternoon.

Whisper and I Shall Hear.

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: This is a very odd card and while I rarely purchase things on the basis of that, I somehow just needed to see this card and what it was in person. It appears to be a photograph of a painting, and I would guess that it is actually done by painting over a photograph which gives it the almost photo quality it has. Not just a photo but some sort of a mash up of photos I would think. It is on glossy cardstock which is unusual for a card in 1909 in my (let’s face it not insignificant) experience.

I assume given the title of the image that the cat is whispering in the ear of this strange doll. It looks as if it is illustrating a fairy tale none of us are familiar with. If you look at that cat’s expression I would say, cat lover though I am, he’s up to no good. The doll looks inert but there is a frightening bit of a lifelike glimmer in its eyes – he shall hear alright! Very strange and more than a little creepy. They are perched on a rooftop, some snow in evidence, with a night sky and cloud obscuring a full moon behind them. Cats seem to be depicted on rooftops a lot although my personal experience of them does not bear this out. I can’t think of the last time I saw a cat on a roof. You?

The card was printed by the Shamrock Co. Photographic Printers & Publishers London, E.C. According to internet intel, Shamrock was a card printer active in the 1890’s – 1910’s. It was particularly known for producing high-quality religious devotional cards, postcards, and sentimental photographic prints. I could not find any compelling further evidence of their product online to share.

The handwritten message at the top says, Writing Wednesday if at all possible. I was just writing to someone else (hey Wayne!) saying that it seems postcards were frequently used to say that a letter was coming, buying time. Funny that after all these years it is the postcard that has been saved and the letter likely lost. (People do still write letters folks – as I type this out, Kim is at his desk across from me handwriting a letter right now. That lucky recipient is getting a preview of the color sketch of my Valentine – hopefully that reveal next weekend. Kim often writes using xeroxed sketches and other bits for his letters. Lucky recipients! He is a frequent and thoughtful correspondent. I on the other hand, send cards – birthday, condolence and with this job, sadly, frequent condolences for the loss of a beloved pet.)

The postcard is dated by hand, 30.10.09 (a European style of writing the date) but the postmark is obscured so I don’t know where it was sent from. It is simply addressed to Mrs. Herbert, Millertown. Millertown, New York in Dutchess County is the likely destination – even today Wikipedia only puts it at 900 occupants so I can imagine that in 1909 you could address something this way and it might get there. Odds are much better than a fully addressed postcard today I dare say.

Back of the card which seemed legible at first but actually a bit challenging to decipher.

The (also unusual) note reads, Mr. E.S. away till afternoon. Case will go next week with (illegible) from attic. Mrs. M. unable to meet – (something) two weeks. Had a splendid trip around, but sat up at Junction on acct it coming from Typhoid region, but only got 5, a-on (?) Had nearly all five day (?) here. Enjoying everything very much. Love (name unclear). It was sent from P. Isld. Not clear where that is – Pennsylvania was suggested by the internet but I do wonder about the reference to Typhoid – yikes! Also, this is sent in October and most of the P. Island’s I can find are summer locales. It was mailed with a penny stamp so I assume this was mailed domestically.

These days I am having my own travails both with US Postal Service and with UPS the company – finding both of them falling down massively on the job. As I worked to (finally) try to close my mother’s estate there are papers that company swear to have sent that never arrive, a Christmas card from North Carolina I fear I will never see and more. Kim had two letters show to their destinations empty – one torn in transit and the other just…empty. Meanwhile, at the building that houses my office they have informed us that mail will no longer be picked up on a regular schedule. We’d long discovered that the mailboxes on the street are an iffy proposition so now it is either the one in our apartment building or all the way to the post office to mail things.

As for UPS I can only vouch for a long series of phone calls to outpost calling centers in India where no one seemed to be able to help me with my package (sitting in Newark) and who kept urging me to go online where an AI assistant could only answer the most routine questions. I will spare you the details, the package eventually returned to sender despite my ongoing efforts, but I do think these issues will start to impact my collecting, much of which has always come from abroad.

Dear Louise

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Here at Pictorama we’re in lucky black cat territory today. When I reflect on the difference between the British who honor their black cats with being lucky and our own culture’s tendency to assign them bad luck, I think I may have been born on the wrong side of that big pond. This is an English published postcard, never used postally so hard to get a date on it. The image is a fairly common one and I would say this postcard could be from any time from the ‘teens to the forties.

Although the phrase on the card, I will meet you in the evening dear Louise, seems to bounce around (I found it on at least one other, albeit mundane, postcard) I cannot find the precise origin of it. However, one can imagine this sharp looking little fella being a popular image on a postcard. Red bow, tongue out, looking over to the side with huge eyes, he is perched atop a brick wall, rooftops and pipes in the distance with a huge yellow moon rising from the mist. I can see it being just the right cheeky card to send to your loved one for an assignation of sorts.

I have written about the roots of British black cat good fortune before. On the maritime side, they believed that a black cat on board a boat was good luck (perhaps not for the cat although maybe a mousie and rat filled paradise of sorts), and my favorite tradition of giving a bride a black cat on her wedding day – what a very nice wedding gift that would be!

Blackie on the bed in NYC in a recent photo.

As mom to two black cats, Blackie and Beau, I often profess to their particular good nature. I remember that my mother wanted to adopt Beau especially because he was an all black cat and I gather they are less likely to be adopted. There seems to be some truth in that but meanwhile certainly she found herself the most devoted little friend ever. Beauregard would sit on her lap happily for hours if allowed and there is not enough petting in all the world for that cat. He is a great companion.

Beau possessively on my lap one morning in NJ recently.

When his weight became too much for her as she grew more frail, he shifted first to next to her and eventually to the chair next to her where he kept persistent watch over her – really of his own accord and understanding. He did not need to be reminded after he first realized it. At times it would be my job to move him to another room – doctor coming etc. and at first it was difficult. As experienced as I am with cats he wasn’t used to being picked up and carried and he is, frankly, an enormous cat. He allowed it and over time he accepted me as one of his spare humans while mom was the unquestionable primary.

With mom gone more than two years now I am the closest thing to her and when I spend time in NJ he claims as much lap time as he can get. His preference is still sitting in my mom’s recliner chair, and I like to think my way of petting, learned at her knee, is somewhat reminiscent of hers.

Milty, who is actually a small cat, looking like an evil genius in a recent photo.

At times I have felt bad about not trying to bring Beau to New York with us, but he rules the house and the other cats in New Jersey, and I am not convinced that displacing him would make him happier. It was my mother’s wish that they would all continue to live in the house and I promised to at least try and it has worked for the past few years. Beau, Gus and the two girls (Stormy and Peaches) are quite young cats, only Milty is a senior citizen (of slightly indeterminate age – late teens, early 20’s) and he is quite tenacious. Therefore, the Jersey Five remain intact at the house there.

Yum! Un Repas Succulent

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today’s card is a favorite that has been in my pile clamoring for attention. This by the artist Maurice Boulanger who was one of the heirs apparent to the Louis Wain throne. (I wrote about another one in my collection recently and that post can be found here.) Here we have not the chef kitty, but instead a bibbed-up consumer cat served up this very large rodent, albeit unadorned by trimmings, on a platter. Mr. Rodent hardly looks deceased, but we will assume he is. Kitty is toothy and anxious to dive right in it seems.

Boulanger cats have a Wain-esque tendency toward an anthropomorphic wackiness, but they seem to not to be as sly and are less of a commentary on human nature, more feline in a way. This grinning fellow clearly has a ferocious appetite and can’t wait to dive into munching on this rat on display atop this dish, from whiskers to the tip of the tail. He stands on two feet and wears a bib (which probably covers a white bib of tabby design fur no less) but only his paws are in evidence – we imagine just teeth and claws in play. No human utensils for him. Below this dish at the bottom it declares, Un Repas Succulent – A Delicious Meal. Or in my mind the more descriptive, a succulent repast!

Obviously, this is a French postcard for all intents and purposes as I believe that the writing across the front and the back is in French – although the postcard actually appears to have Eastern European produced. (If anyone wants to take a stab at translating the message I would love to have a sense of what is written here.) And as is often the case, the neat scribble on the front adds to the decorative element. It was mailed to an address in Paris in March of 1906, but I can’t read much else from the cancellation. Again, the small, neat writing on the back escapes my rudimentary translation skills.

Reverse side of card – can anyone out there read and translate this?

For those of you in the same neck of the woods as us at Deitch Studio, you know that at the time of writing this it is the end of another frigid week of weather in New York City. Although I can think of several equally impressive snowstorms, I cannot remember one where it stayed so cold that that snow just didn’t go anywhere and here we reside a week later in piles that are still knee high, garbage piling up even higher where trucks cannot get it. (Speaking of rats!) The City makes attempts to dispose of the snow manually while Mother Nature continues to deliver a bit more here and there.

Clearly, we will have one of those spring thaws where things long buried will emerge on the streets. The temperature in the early morning and the nights hovers in the single digits and dips well below zero with the wind. The (blissful) heat in the apartment runs constantly and despite being 1.5 small rooms I expect the bill to be high. The cost of heating the house in New Jersey, even without us there, is a bit staggering this year. Meanwhile, the heat in my office is oddly mercurial and reduced substantially by an ill-conceived wall of windows so it has been a very chilly week indeed and I hunker down with a mug of hot coffee to write this.

All this to set the stage to talk about the wonders that hot food can manifest in this weather. Recent weeks has seen me doubling down on soups and stews. (I shared a miso based soup recipe recently – you can find the post here.) We don’t eat meat, so pots of bubbling beans and tofu make up the stews along with whatever greens or leftovers in the fridge need cooking up. Each one tends to come out different for that reason – black beans seem to be the winner recently, although the chickpea curries are gaining ground. There is a simply wonderful spicy chili crisp tofu recipe that I retrieved from the New York Times (it can be found here at the time of writing) which has become a bit of a staple.

Last week I had a yen for a brothier soup after lots of thick ones and threw together one I will make again. Roughly it was ginger, garlic, onion, and carrots to start with two containers of vegetable broth, some miso, a small can of diced tomatoes and flat leaf parsley and finished with a package of cheese tortellini added at the end. I let it simmer all afternoon on the stove and really, it was heavenly! This week I am experimenting with a simple potato leek soup a friend makes but boy – last week’s soup will go into a regular rotation.

Soup and stew, hot food in general, the ability to make it, afford it and eat it, is a blessing especially in the cold weather. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, the very act of making it calms and reassures me. Hot meals for the cold week ahead. Lower perhaps in pure protein than this feline repast but will fill us up and keep us going nonetheless.

Stormy

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Perhaps not surprising as a large swath of the country buckles down to what could be the most substantial snowfall of many years, that this photo (just in the door from my friend @marsh.and.meadow via Instagram) should be top of my pile for today.

Mounted and undated, other than a bit of damage at its edges it is in good shape. It seems it was a treasured photo despite it being overexposed, although somehow it works with the effect of the snow. This little boy is wearing the kind of long coat I think of more for an adult, but I guess he maneuvered on his sled just find nonetheless. (I bought a very long down coat this year to replace one I have been wearing for decades. It has zippers in the side so I can actually walk in it or keep it zipped all around in terrible cold. I can’t image it on a sled though.) He wears a cheery sort of beret and sort of has the look of a race car driver standing next to his beloved vehicle which is why I purchased it.

Early morning view out the window of the apartment this morning.

He has a very elaborate sled. Better is painted on the side but I cannot read the rest and there is more – it is obscured by a sort of jointed wooden handle – perhaps to steer? How would that work? The top of this sled is made of wooden planks – it all looks very heavy for a sled. The runners are the carved bottom. I think you would need some heavy snow to take advantage of this design. Growing up we were the generation that moved from the traditional wood with red metal runners to dishes of metal or plastic which picked up great speed, even in less snow. Growing up near the ocean and a river it was frequently a bit too warm for much snow to hang around.

This card came from the Midwest and they do generally know something about snow out there. I am not sure if that is a house or a barn behind him, behind a fence. Skeletons of denuded winter tress are visible and it is snowing as the photo was taken, white dots on his dark clothes, gathering still all around. (As it is out my window right now – a complete white out here on the 16th floor, looking north.)

Snow at the house in Jersey last weekend.

Last Sunday I was in New Jersey and shoveling some of it in the evening. Monday dawned to an unusually pretty day of snow – everyone was talking about how picture perfect it was. It was a holiday for many including from school and provided ample opportunity for sledding down a very large hill near my house which I drove past. A pretty church, aptly named Tower Hill, sits at the top. I’ve run up that hill and it is steep! Perfect for sledding however. Growing up, it was a bit too far for us to get a ride two towns over, so I think I ever sledded there once or twice and when I was older. It would have seemed like Everest as a little kid. I want to say my folks drove us to a hill near my grandmother in a town called Long Branch, but I don’t remember where really.

Tower Hill Church, the slope continues down about three times as far as what is shown here – unobstructed and perfect for sledding.

Living near the ocean and between twin rivers, it was frequently too warm for snow to stay around long. Snowstorms also often caused flooding which meant water (river water) on the ground rather than snow and certainly not driving anywhere. Therefore, the perfect sledding snow day was a bit rarified. Here in Manhattan we have sledding hills in Central Park and even a small one here near me in Carl Schurz park. I bet the kids are heading over even early this morning although maybe everyone being kept inside while it is coming down so hard.

Weirdly when I watch the Winter Olympics I have a vague yearning to try the luge and skeleton. There is a place in upstate New York for training and the thought always tempts me, no idea why that particular sport speaks to me. My girl cat Cookie likes to watch it with me – television interests her and anything zipping around like that is a bonus. I was born in a blizzard (and as a February baby I also have many snowy birthday memories of plans canceled or adjusted for the celebration) so maybe it was born into me.

Meanwhile, at work we will likely be the only animal hospital open and our vets and techs who come from a broad swath of the tri-state area will have trouble getting in, but of course animals will still need us. Most of the interns and residents are a bit closer – we provide some housing not far from the hospital. It is a bit sad for me that my first thoughts about snow are practical about slippery sidewalks and shoveling at the house, getting to work and losing power – instead of fun and beauty. I will try to repair my sense of wonder, dream about fast sleds and do some cozy cooking and at home projects.