Irrawaddy Dreams....

My heart hurts for the people of Burma .... Cyclone Nargis that devastated most of lower Burma and the Irrawaddy delta, May 3rd. will effect their lives for years to come if not for ever. The unfolding tragedy and unjust treatment of the people by the inapt military junta continues to dumbfound me.



I look back on my trip there in January -February 2004 with quiet memories.
Memories of the beautiful faces, their Faith constant in everything they thing they do. Their long history of oppression the hardships they have endured.


Rudyard Kipling's poem:

Mandalay

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,

An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat -- jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o'mud...
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd..
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay . . .

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!"
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
Elephints a-pilin' teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay . . .

But that's all shove be'ind me -- long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."
No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
But them spicy garlic smells,
An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;
On the road to Mandalay...

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby 'and...
Law! wot do they understand?
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay...

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be..
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

My Neighbors are back.

The same pair of Yellow Crowned Night Herons come back every year to make their nest in the oak... two trees down from the gallery here on Church Street.
They arrived last week on Tuesday and have been busy rebuilding their nest.
I showed the pair to , Robin & Jim Roberts a couple visiting here in Charleston, sailing their way up the coast. Here are some good close up photos they sent me of the nesting pair.

It is so wonderful to live in such a beautiful place and to surrounded by all the Natural History. A constant conformation of how what I do parallels what I see....Mark Catesby painted them while he was here in the Carolina Lowcountry the early 1700’s. ....Audubon's incredible image of the Yellow Crowned Night Herons and the detail or graphics of the feathers really is a great image.

Summertime, and the livin' is easy....

Hello, and welcome to my world. In the last couple of days the city has begun its transformation into summer. It is finally warm again a the humidity has begun to arrive... the salty smell of the pluff mud... and the thick odor of magnolia is in the air.... another Charleston summer.

Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high

Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry

One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky

But till that morning
There's a'nothing can harm you
With daddy and mamma standing by

Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high

Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry

In the early 1920's, Du Bose Heyward wrote the book "Porgy" based on the comings and goings of the residents of 89 and 91 Church Street. The Building was commonly known at that time as Cabbage Row because of the cabbages grown in the court yard and sold on the doorstep. In Heyward's book the location of the building was changed to the waterfront and renamed the buildings as Catfish Row.

The Building has had a colorful history from being a tenement for many years, A much missed ladies dress shop, Porgy & Bess; and now the home for the last 7 years to Carolina Antique Maps & Prints at 91 Church. I moved the Print Shop from King Street in 2001. Next Door at 89 Church are Martine and Emilie Dulles of Dulles Designs
specialist dealers in fine stationery and gifts.

In the Book "Porgy", Heyward writes of Catfish Row:
" Catfish Row, in which Porgy lived, was not a row at all, but a great brick structure that lifted its three stories about the three sides of the court..... and pierced in its center by a wide entrance way. Over the entrance there still remained a massive grill of Italian wrought iron, a battered capital of marble surmounted each of the lofty gate-posts. The court itself was paved with large flag-stones, which even beneath the accumulated grime of a century, glimmered with faint and varying pastel shades in direct sunlight. The south wall, which was always in shadow, was lichened from pavement to rotting gutter;and opposite, the northern face, unbroken except by rows of small-paned windows, showed every color through its flaking stucco, and, in summer, a steady blaze of scarlet from rows of geraniums that bloomed in old vegetable tins upon every window sill.
Within the high-ceilinged rooms, with their battered colonial mantels and broken decorations of Adam designs in plaster, governors had come and gone, and ambassadors of kings had schemed and danced....