There are countless works of art that show vessels at anchor. But where’s the anchor? Out of sight, deep down at the bottom of the sea bed. To correct this bit of artistic injustice, I have gathered the following works of art in which anchors are given the prominence they deserve.
It’s no fluke that the cast of path-breaking new stage play Corrina, Corrina comprises not only white guys, nor that the theme is asymmetrical power. Headlong’s production is bravely tackling the stuff of theatrical success, even if it is about human lack of success in being fair.
A conversation can be interesting and enjoyable, or it can be insipid and tiresome. The difference lies in what people are able and willing to put into it. Conversation is an art. Those who are good at it make the interaction a gratifying experience for themselves and for others involved.
So the International Maritime Organization (IMO) has declared the 18th of May as “International Day for Women in Maritime 2022”. Well and good. Women deserve all the support they can get in a male-dominated shipping world. The question, however, arises: where is the International Labour Organization (ILO) in the celebration of this event?
How many still send postcards by mail? People now use email and social media to send messages from near and far. Gone are the days when one would handwrite a greeting on a postcard, lick a stamp to paste onto it, and dispatch the card by mail to a friend or loved one. Come and have a nostalgic look at the lost age of postcards:
This is the first of Marine Café Blog’s new series of articles about women who have made an impact on society and maritime history. Their exemplary deeds, I trust, will serve to inspire women in the 21st century no matter their station in life. — BU
Ida Lewis (1842 – 1911) was a relatively small woman. According to some accounts, she was only five feet, two inches talll and weighed 115 lbs. But she was larger than life. During the years that she lived and worked at Lime Rock Lighthouse in Newport, Rhode Island, she saved 18 people from drowning. She did not keep a record of her rescues, and the figure is thought to be as high as 25.
I have been curious about the “Jacob’s ladder”, the old name for the ladder used by pilots to get on board and disembark from a ship. Not wanting to remain ignorant of the subject, I did some research. The information I have gathered thus far is interesting. Indeed, it is food for thought.
It sounds a bit ironic. I have been firing broadsides at the maritime press in Marine Café Blog. Yet, I myself was once an international shipping and ports journalist. That was a long time ago, when the internet was in its infancy and I had to dispatch stories to my UK editors by teletype.
I have sometimes wondered: how many choose to be seafarers, not just for the money, but for love of the sea and the seagoing life? Like the ocean tide, the question rose up again in my mind when I recently came across a poem by Edward Clement Cruttwell (1888–1938), a Royal Navy lieutenant who served in World War I.
I have known a number of old salts who are no longer around. They have made their final voyage. To them I dedicate the following poems which are memorable on account of their moving imagery and heartfelt words. I trust that others will be touched as well by these beautiful verses.
Paintings of glorious sunsets at sea, swarthy fishermen, dramatic naval battles, and heart-wrenching shipwrecks may move and inspire the viewer. But there is no marine art more touching and endearing than that which depicts children by the sea. Here are some examples coupled with a few words of wisdom about children.
Poems about maritime pilots are so rare that ‘Le Pilote de Tonga’ (The Pilot of Tonga) is a veritable gem. But there’s another reason this prose poem is special. It was written in 1856 by Charles Meryon (1821–1868), a French artist, printmaker and naval officer whose biography makes for interesting reading
American artist Georgia O’Keeffe (1887–1986) painted seashells like no one else. A key figure in the early 20th century movement called “modernism”, she rejected the traditional ways of representing reality. But she had her own inimitable style. For inspiration, she did not turn to the industrial world, as many modernist artists did, but to Nature.