Paint of the Mummy's Tomb

Mummy brown was a rich brown bituminous pigment, intermediate in tint between burnt umber and raw umber, which was one of the favorite colors of the Pre-Raphaelites.

Mummy brown was originally made in the 16th and 17th centuries from white pitch, myrrh, and the ground-up remains of Egyptian mummies, both human and feline, one London colourman claiming that he could satisfy the demands of his customers for twenty years from one Egyptian mummy.

It fell from popularity in the early 19th century when its composition became generally known to artists. According to Jasmine Day, in her book The Mummy’s curse: Mummymania in the English-speaking World, “In 1881, the artist Laurence Alma Tadema, famous for his romantic ancient Egyptian scenes (such as that above which is very … brown), saw his paint preparer grinding up a piece of a mummy.  Realizing where “mummy brown” came from, he alerted his fellow painter, Edward Burne-Jones [and] together with some family members, the remorseful artists held an impromptu funeral burying a tube of mummy brown paint.” [Source]

Castle Dracula

Growing up, my family and I would always go to Cape May for the summer. And while in Cape May, we'd always take the short ride over to Wildwood for the boardwalk.

And every year, there stood Dracula's Castle.

It was a huge haunted amusement attraction. I was obsessed with horror movies as a kid (as I am now), and the old Universal films were always my favorite. So a chance to venture into Dracula's castle was like a dream come true to a kid like me.

Except I was terrified.

I remember as we drove towards the boardwalk I could see the shape of the castle jutting into the sky as the sun was setting slowly into the ocean. We always got there around sunset. And the castle was the first place we'd go to. I'd go and stand in front of the building, gazing up at it, my eyes drawn to a rubber skeleton dangling inside a cage hung from one of the towers.

Every now and then a robotic Dracula would appear on a balcony and beckon people inside. Boardwalk goers would line up for either the walk-through portion, or for the boat ride, which went through a tunnel beneath the castle. The water was dyed red like blood, and the boats had accompanying statues of the grim reaper.

Every year it would be the same thing. My parents would take me to the boardwalk. We'd go right to Dracula's Castle. We'd stand there, looking at the imposing building. My parents would ask "Are you going to go in?" And I would always say no. There was something about that towering castle that filled me with a nameless dread. This wasn't some rinky-dink haunted house; this was a huge fucking CASTLE. It looked endless; it looked like you could get lost within the stone walls.

One year, my cousins came with us to the shore. We all went to Wildwood. My uncle and one of my cousins went on the boat portion of the castle. They chided me to go along. I refused, steadfast in my belief that if I entered any portion of that place I would be killed.

I waited anxiously for their return. When they finally emerged from the other end, they both pretended to be sleeping--to mock me. They said it wasn't scary at all. They said they'd go through it again if I wanted to finally go.

No fucking way.

Year after year this continued. And eventually we stopped going down the shore. I grew older, and more jaded. Horror movies and life desensitized me to the point where nothing really scared me anymore. By the time I was in my late teens I was determined to go to Dracula's Castle once and for all.

But it was too late.

The castle had burned down in 2002, the victim of arson. There was talk of rebuilding, but it never came to pass. I'll never know what it was like inside. There's a video on youtube that appears to be a walk-through of the castle, from 1991. I'm not going to watch it. It just wouldn't be the same.

When I look at photos from the place, I am amused at how corny and un-terrifying they all look. I'm always going to regret never having gone into Dracula's Castle, but maybe it's better this way. Maybe it's best to remember it as a house of unending terror, rather than to have gone through only to come out the other side saying, disheartened, "THAT'S IT??"

For more about Dracula's Castle, as well as the location of the images I used, go here: Dark in the Park

Cemetery Gun

In the 18^th and 19^th centuries, grave-robbing was a serious problem in Great Britain and the United States. Because surgeons and medical students could only legally dissect executed criminals or people who had donated their bodies to science (not a popular option at the time), a trade in illegally procured corpses sprang up. This cemetery gun, held in the Museum of Mourning Art at the Arlington Cemetery of Drexel Hill, Pa., was one dramatic strategy used to thwart so-called "resurrection men."

The gun, which the museum dates to 1710, is mounted on a mechanism that allows it to spin freely. Cemetery keepers set up the flintlock weapon at the foot of a grave, with three tripwires strung in an arc around its position. A prospective grave-robber, stumbling over the tripwire in the dark, would trigger the weapon—much to his own misfortune.

Grave-robbers evolved to meet this challenge. Some would send women posing as widows, carrying children and dressed in black, to case the gravesites during the day and report the locations of cemetery guns and other defenses. Cemetery keepers, in turn, learned to wait to set the guns up after dark, thereby preserving the element of surprise.

Because the guns were rented by the week and were prohibitively expensive to buy, the poorer people most likely to end up beneath the anatomist's knife—historian Michael Sappol writes that these included “black people, criminals, prostitutes, the Irish, ‘freaks,’ manual laborers, indigents, and Indians”—probably wouldn’t have benefited from this form of protection.

source

Review: LINCOLN

LINCOLN
2012
Directed by Uwe Boll Steven Spielberg


Who was the greatest American president? If you said James K. Polk, you're 100 % correct.

But a close second is Abraham Lincoln. There are a lot of people on the internet, aka the cesspool of humanity, that like to knock Lincoln off his pedestal, and say things like "He didn't REALLY hate slavery!" or "He was a TYRANT!" or "What's up with that BEARD?"

To those people I say: shut up, morons.

Yes, it's true that Lincoln has become a mythic figure, and that there is a more human, flawed side to that myth. But don't be a silly idiot. Lincoln was a great man, and a great president, and if you don't believe me, read a fucking book or two.

Sadly there haven't be many great films about the great man (except, of course, Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure). People have tried, and made valiant efforts. But no film really seemed to take Lincoln from a marble statue and turn him into a living, breathing man.

UNTIL NOW.

LINCOLN, the latest film from Steven "the Beard" Spielberg, takes a unique approach to the story of the 16th president of the United States. Rather than your standard cradle-to-the-grave biopic, LINCOLN focuses instead on a period near the end of the Lincoln's presidency and life: specifically, the period where Lincoln is trying to get the 13th Amendment passed, thus ending slavery.

The Civil War is dying down, and the Union has all but declared victory. This is a mixed blessing for Lincoln: it's obviously great that the war is ending, however, he fears that once the war is completely ended, there will be no real rush to abolish slavery, and he'll have no chance getting his amendment passed. So, Lincoln tasks Secretary of State William Seward (a wonderful and warm David Strathairn) with rounding up three men (John Hawkes, Tim Blake Nelson and James Spader--all fantastic, especially Spader, who steals every scene he's in) with gathering enough votes to pull the whole thing off.

Be excellent to each other....and PARTY ON, DUDES!

Along the way Lincoln has to deal with his wife Mary Todd (Sally Field) who is slowly sinking into insanity and his rebellious son Robert (Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who is contractually required to be in all movies these days), who wants to go join the fight, much to his parents' chagrin.

Lincoln also has to reign in fiery abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens (Tommy Lee Jones, who gives one of the best performances of his career). Stevens is seen as a "radical," and his outbursts could derail the whole process.

This movie is a delight to behold. It never feels dull, or slow. Every scene crackles with energy, thanks to Spielberg's rather reserved direction, Tony Kushner's fire-cracker of a script, and top-of-their-game performances from literally the entire cast.

But of course, the real attraction here is Daniel Day-Lewis. Day-Lewis is one of the best actors we have, and he seems to turn in "career best" performances in every single role he takes (with the weird misfire of the dull musical NINE). And once again, he comes through. Day-Lewis becomes Lincoln. We will never REALLY know how Lincoln talked, and walked, and acted--but watching Day-Lewis is probably the closest we'll ever get. His Lincoln is a tender, reserved man, with a high voice and a rumpled, unkempt appearance. And he loves to tell stories. Any time Lincoln wants to get a point across to his squabbling cabinet members, he regals them with a humour story, and you can't help but hang on every word. The real Lincoln suffered from depression, and his humor helped him work through the melancholy feelings that overcame him. Day-Lewis understands that, and embodies it fully.

Lincoln makes blankets a fashion statement.

LINCOLN isn't a flawless film, though. The very first scene of the film feels just a little too "staged," and doesn't really flow with the more realistic tone the rest of the film takes. Also, while his performance is fine, Joseph Gordon-Levitt's Robert Lincoln feels useless here. I'm sure he was added to provide more glimpses into Lincoln's personal life, but the character doesn't seem to add much to the film, and could've easily been left on the sidelines.

There's also a brief shot near the end where the image of Lincoln appears inside the flame of a lantern that is almost painfully corny and on-the-nose, but thankfully it ends before you can roll your eyes too much. And while we're on the subject of the end, personally I think Spielberg could've ended things before the assassination (SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!). He makes a wise choice by having the assassination happen off-screen, but before the whole sequence, we are left with the image of Lincoln saying goodbye to his staff, uttering the words "I would like to stay, but I fear I must go," and quietly walking out of the White House, bathed in shadows. In my humble opinion, that would've been a perfect spot to cut to the credits. But the extra stuff doesn't diminish the impact of the film, so I can't complain too much.

"You're gonna love this next scene; it ends with a real BANG!"
"Ugh, terrible."

LINCOLN is that rare Hollywood biopic that is uplifting and inspirational without being cloying and overly manipulative. Daniel Day-Lewis should be going off to the store right about now to buy some extra Oscar Wax, because I can't think of a single actor this year who is more deserving of an Academy Award.

Until someone invents a time machine, we'll never really be able to see Abraham Lincoln as a living, breathing person. So while we wait for that day, this film will be the best option we have.

I give LINCOLN Four out of Four Stovepipe Hats.