Wax Seals

Looking through my writing desk you will find no shortage of seals, personal, seasonal or otherwise. During my time in Japan I had at least a dozen of them made, but they are all for use with ink rather than sealing wax. I have always thought of the wax type as stylish and sort of dapper, wanting one for a long time.

The first of these seals I considered buying was one I saw on Ward Dunham’s website, Atalier Gargoyle, San Francisco. I saw two or three I liked, but the one of a lowercase Gothic alphabet in a circle especially intrigued me. Several times I started to order this wax seal, then stopped myself, thinking again of the price. A very beautiful seal, but expensive.

Recently I got something from Brian Goulet at gouletpens.com and it included a note from Brian with a wax seal in the shape of a ‘G.’ I thought about ordering one of these seals with a personal initial, then decided to look around and see what else is out there.

I found a company online that offered what looked to be interesting wax seals, all of them at a reasonable price. I chose one and placed an order. Big, big mistake. The ordering process was simple enough, and the delivery was prompt, the items well packaged, but both seal and sealing wax were a huge disappointment. Disappointment so complete I have still, after five or six attempts, been unable to get a satisfactory, or even mediocre impression from the seal and sealing wax. Both came from Capricorn’s Lair in Utah. The seal is much too shallow to leave a sharp impression, and the True Vermillion (Ecclesiastical Red) sealing wax almost useless.

The seal I chose is shown in the top photo, but the two impressions are ink. The bottom image from a cheap red ink pad, the top from an expensive Japanese ink. The seal is pewter and the design is a four-point Celtic Knot. Not personal in the sense of an initial, I still like the design and its probable meaning, which may be representative of four stages in life: birth, maturity, death and afterlife. Celtic designs however, are not easy symbols to interpret.

Whatever the meaning and whatever my feeling for the Celtic Knot is, it’s all moot, because the seal and wax are inferior. I have wasted my money. Would have done better to save my money and then later order the Ward Dunham Gothic alphabet seal, and some J Herbin sealing wax from Brian Goulet.

Architecture Bayou Style

Growing up in Louisiana, the sight of a residence designed by architect, A Hays Town was not rare. I even had an aunt who worked for years as his personal secretary. The lumber mill across the street, where my father worked, did the millwork for all the Hays Town designs. But as with many youngsters, I had other things on my mind and took little notice of such during my years of growing up.

A Hays Town was a remarkably prolific architect, who started his career designing government and commercial buildings in Mississippi and Louisiana before turning his full attention to the design of private homes. More than 1000 of his homes remain today, in addition to the government and commercial work from earlier years. As a Louisiana son, his designs are strongly influenced by not only the south Louisiana culture he grew up in, but in the very landscape that defines the area. One of the distinctive Hays Town characteristics is a house that seems to rise out of the landscape, a design incorporating native plant materials into its basic parts. There is a quality of benign neglect in much of his work—studied decay, incorporating the effects of aging, mold, algae, and mildew into the shape, color and texture of materials. The houses make lavish use of cypress and heart of pine, two woods native to Louisiana.

Looking at a home designed by Hays Town will reveal elements of classic Louisiana—full-length shutters, dovecotes, thirteen foot ceilings and brick floors with a special beeswax finish. A familiar design reflects the old Acadian cottage with a raised front porch and exterior staircase. More often than not, the architect carried his influence inside, selecting materials, colors, furnishings, sometimes even recommending a dog to complement the design.

Most of his homes now wear a bronze plaque: A HAYS TOWN, ARCHITECT

Mr Town died in 2005, age 101.

THE PHOTOGRAPHS:

All five photographs are from the book, The Louisiana Houses of A. Hays Town, and are by Philip Gould.

From the top…

1. Witter House — classic Louisiana setting with a raised porch.

2. Sherar House — familiar Louisiana columns fronting open porches.

3. Laborde House — unseen here are the wide steps leading to the raised porch.

4. Strawitz House — old brick and aged wood, with the large window looking out.

5. Bonnecaze House — to my eyes a breathtaking design of the traditional 19th century look; the signature porch, this time with whitewashed brick and beams. And notice the old brick building with dovecotes.

Recalling the Days

I wrote recently of buying a stack of books at the closing sale of Mandala Books in Daytona. One of the books in that stack was an ‘old’ book, a first novel by John Burnham Schwartz, published in 1989 and titled Bicycle Days. The novel had passed through my fingers on more than one occasion over the years, always in a Tokyo bookstore, sometimes in secondhand sales. For some reason I never took it home to read, though I knew it was about a young American’s first experience in Japan. Perhaps I was too caught up in my own experiences and thought it might be a naive story, a superficial recounting of a brief summer in Japan.

Finally, buying and reading Mr Schwartz’s book all these years later has been more than a little interesting. I couldn’t help but read the book through the filter of my own long years in Japan, and the changes I witnessed there over the years. Much about Japan and the Japanese is very different now, twenty-one years after the story told in Bicycle Days. Still, there is enough in this novel for me to admit that it held me to my seat turning pages.

Alec Stern arrives in Japan to discover a whole new world, fresh out of college and with a summer job at an American company in Tokyo. All has been arranged for him, and he finds himself living with a Japanese family, eyes open to not just a new city and culture, but a new family who treats him like a son. The other half of the the novel deals with the ghosts Alec left behind in New York. In one sense, he has come to Japan to wipe the slate clean, to escape memories of his parents' divorce, and a difficult relationship with his brother. Schwartz alternates his chapters, moving between the newness of Alec’s life in Tokyo and the memories of New York that haunt him.

The novel is a good one, but as a first novel there are some weaknesses that stand out over the course of its 250 pages. It is presented in a diary-like narrative in which the main character can be said to be a little too self-involved. The complete lack of humor is also disturbing in a set up that bubbles with potential. Foreigners new to Japan often have hilarious encounters where language and culture are involved. Unfortunately, Mr Schwartz left those out of his story.

Many of the book’s forty chapters are interesting in a comparative sense, and some readers may be eager to read descriptions of experiences they share with the writer. At least, that was true for me.

There is one passage in the chapter, “The Club Scene” that is especially fine. The main character is seeing Kabuki-cho for the first time, a section of Shinjuku devoted to the sex industry…

‘Alec peered from under his umbrella. The sex shops and pornographic movie houses around him were lost in the buzz and glow of multicolored neon. It spread over the rain-wet streets and cars, over the moving pedestrians and their black umbrellas, over the corner vending machines, until the entire neighborhood was bathed in eerie fragments of wild, electric color. Shrill voices announced opportunities for sex and voyeurism. Quick, eager hands closed around crisp bills and whisked dark-suited men down into unseen basements. The men were of all ages, many still dressed in their business clothes, as solemn and upright as rush hour commuters going home to their wives. Alec thought they looked like obscene moving advertisements, these men, caught in the flashing neon of sex shops, their destination etched in their faces like smiles.’

A dead-on-target picture of Kabuki-cho.

John Burnham Schwartz has written three subsequent novels, the latest published in 2009, titled The Commoner.

From Red to Red

In writing to a friend recently I chose to use a custom mixed ink from Osamu Ishimaru at Sailor, an ink first called ‘Dried Persimmon’ but later changed (by me) to 'Blood Orange.’ (The second name seemed more fitting.) Some days later, in a reply to my letter, my friend commented that the Blood Orange ink looked very much like the new Rouge Hematite 1670 ink from J Herbin. I am usually sensitive to ink colors, and quick to note similarities in different inks. I have a bottle of the Herbin 1670, have used it frequently, but still had not noticed its closeness to the older Sailor ink I call Blood Orange. Suppose it was a case of not using the two inks back to back, or maybe I just wasn’t paying attention. But I did notice the likeness of the two colors immediately upon reading my friend’s comment.

I can’t remember exactly when it was that Mr Ishimaru mixed the Blood Orange for me, but I think it was sometime in 2008 at a pen fair in Tokyo’s Maruzen Department Store. I have old journals with a good many pages in the Blood Orange ink, but it hasn’t been in my ink rotation in recent months.

A comparison might be of interest to some, so that’s what you see here. Apart from Q-tips and brushes, the two fountain pens used in the photo sample are: Sailor Naginata with a medium nib for the Herbin 1670 (left), and Lamy 2000 medium nib for the Sailor ink (right). The paper used is Vélin Blanc Clairefontaine Triomphe, 90g. The Sailor is slightly darker than the Herbin, perhaps with a dollop more black. The Herbin has a pleasing brightness that the Sailor Blood Orange lacks, but at the same time, the shading is better in the Blood Orange. Saturation appears to be in favor of the Rouge Hematite. The two inks have a similar drying time; I tested each after a ten second wait. Neither of the inks is waterproof, but if I had to write in the rain I would opt for the Blood Orange. Under water, the Herbin loses all character, all that distinguishes it from ordinary red ink, while the Sailor turns purple, though manages to hold the letter shapes.

For those who might be interested in buying the Sailor ink, you will need to give Sailor and Mr Ishimaru the following blend number: 070112059. Most likely in Mr Ishimaru’s records, the color is identified as ‘hoshi-gaki’ (Dried Persimmon).

Zzzzzucchini!

Looking out from the kitchen today, my mind on zucchini and a new way of preparing it. Still a ‘new’ recipe for me, despite my having made it on one former occasion. But when something is new, I always find it better the second or third time around. Some might say practice makes perfect, but I would be more comfortable saying that practice will make it at least better if not perfect.

Not sure what the origin of the recipe is, but the combination of zucchini and mint leads me to think it might be Middle Eastern. Whatever the case may be, it is not an entrée, but can be served as either an appetizer, or as a side dish.

HERE’S WHAT YOU NEED:

3 or 4 zucchini

1 bunch of scallions, or green onions

1 bunch of fresh mint

1 bunch of fresh basil

about 2 tablespoons of olive oil

lemon or lime juice

crumbled feta cheese

bread for toast

a sprinkle of salt

HERE’S WHAT YOU DO:

Wash the zucchini well with a vegetable brush, then trim and cut it into 2 inch lengths.

With potato peeler or paring knife, peel the zucchini pieces zebra-style, leaving some peel.

Next, dice the zucchini into what are fairly small bits.

Heat the olive oil in a frying pan or wok on a medium-low stovetop.

Toss in the chopped zucchini and sauté.

In the meantime slice three or four scallions, top to bottom.

About 2 minutes before the zucchini is completely tender, toss in the chopped scallions.

Stir, stir stir the mix for 1 minute, then add a good handful of roughly shredded mint,

and a good handful of roughly torn basil.

In no time at all the zucchini will be tender. Turn off the heat, and stir in the juice from maybe half a lemon, or lime if you prefer.

Now the unexpected: Put the cooked zucchini into a large bowl and mash it with a potato masher.

You’re aiming for a consistency that will lay snugly on toast without all falling off.

Add salt to taste.

Serve the zucchini on pieces of toast, and topped with crumbled feta cheese.

The rare flavor of this unusual recipe will remind you of faraway lands.

The Essayist

One of my favorite essays has for many years been one written by E.B. White in 1941 titled, “Once More to the Lake.” The writer’s name is familiar to many as the author of Charlotte’s Web and Stuart Little, the children’s stories that have captivated young readers for years. Others may recall a slim volume they read in college called, The Elements of Style by William Strunk and E.B. White. But for many years White’s name was associated with The New Yorker magazine, where his essays were a regular feature, and where his wife was a senior editor.

One of the books I brought home from the final sale at Mandala Books in Daytona, is a 1976 first edition of Letters of E.B. White, collected and edited by Dorothy Lobrano Guth. I didn’t realize until later how rewarding this purchase would become. Pages I have so far read are generous in unveiling a man, a personality I was only vaguely familiar with. Because of my fondness for his essay, “Once More to the Lake,” I was quick to look up those letters written around the time of the essay’s first publication in 1941. What I discovered was a wealth of facts surrounding the essay’s background, and even an insight into White’s thesis, or intent with the piece. It shouldn’t really surprise me, since I’ve made similar discoveries about other writers through their letters, most prominent among them probably the poet Charles Bukowski. But it’s alway an eye opening process.

According to notes in the Letters of E.B. White, the writer was on many occasions desirous of revisiting places he had known at an earlier time. Thus it was, in 1941 he returned to the Belgrade Lakes in Maine, site of August vacations during his childhood. This return to a childhood ‘cathedral’ is the basis for “Once More to the Lake,” written for his column in Harper’s, the October 1941 issue.

I had often wondered about the final lines of the essay, which always read like a presentiment of death. I discovered the excerpt below in a letter White wrote ten years after the essay’s initial publication:

‘The essay [“Once More to the Lake”] is about a man who feels a sense of identity with his son—a fairly common feeling. But the sense of identity is all mixed up with a feeling of being separated by the years. A child by his very existence, makes a parent feel older, nearer death. So when the little boy in the essay puts on a cold, wet bathing suit, the man feels the chill, as though he were experiencing it. Only for him it is a truly chilling experience, because it suddenly seems to foreshadow death.’

Letters of E.B. White is a weighty book, and “Once More to the Lake” a somewhat lengthy essay, both of which require longer discussion, at least more than is allowed here. For those interested in the essay, this link will take you to an online version. At Amazon look for Essays of E.B. White and a revised edition of the letters. If you haven’t already, I urge you to become acquainted with the writing of Elwyn Brooks White.

Bits & Pieces

With no specific thought in mind, nothing that has commanded my thoughts today, I decided to post some bits and pieces together on the same sheet of paper and call them scriblets.

THE GAZEBO

There’s a new form of litter in town. I can’t say when exactly it was that beach gazebo-cabanas became so popular, so ubiquitous at the beach, but these days they’re more popular than iPods. On weekends at this time of summer, the beach in both directions is a long ribbon of flapping canvas, a wavering line of beach gazebos. It’s easy to see the attraction for many people on holiday, spending tourist dollars, but there’s one thing they don’t print on the box. It’s almost guaranteed to be good for just one vacation. Poorly made of cheap materials, and subject to a heavy lashing of wind and salt air—That’s the average $50 gazebo most vacationers are buying today. And right here is born that new form of litter. With the daily stress of wind and salt, the joints and hinges get 'mechanical arthritis’ and won’t cooperate in being folded and put away. So people just abandon the naked skeleton of a wind-bent gazebo on the beach and return home to Pleasantville. There it stays for a week or two until the beach maintenance team hauls it away.

THE BOOKSTORE

In December of 1979 Mandala Books in Daytona opened, a huge rambling space crammed with used books, in all categories, including signed first editions. I have enjoyed many hours of quiet browsing at Mandala, so am hugely disappointed that today was their final day of business. Mandala Books closed its doors for the last time today. It will be missed.

THE BAYOU

Bayou Teche is a long and culturally important waterway curling through a part of southern Louisiana. The name ‘teche’ is an Indian word meaning ‘snake.’ Naturally, the Indians long ago looked at the bayou’s twists and curls and thought of a snake. An ancient story tells of a big snake that attacked their villages. It required many years and the lives of many warriors to finally kill the snake. They left the huge carcass where it died, and there is decomposed. Rain eventually filled the snaked-shaped depression left behind and became Bayou Teche.