The Foundling Museum
Early on in the suitcase project, people started sending me links to the Foundling Museum in London. Some saw an emotional connection between my project and the amazing stories that are a part of the museum’s collection. I was really flattered. This past Friday I finally got the chance to stop by and visit. It is really difficult to describe in words the impact of the exhibits, and of the building itself.
This is one of many tokens that mothers or fathers left behind to identify their children should they ever return to claim their abandoned child. It was a simple, but effective system. So much history here, and I would encourage going to their site to read about what an incredible institution Thomas Coram envisioned and successfully started.
I thought a lot about charity, art, and how brilliant Coram was in bringing in creative people to support the hospital. Both William Hogarth and George Frideric Handel were governors, and donated time and energy to the idea of saving abandoned children. The museum still utilizes this model in their temporary gallery space. I was really bummed to have just missed a Grayson Perry exhibit. (If you have a few hours to spare, please listen to this.)
Sometimes art can really have an impact.
The Regent’s Park / Wembley
I met Cris at Heathrow yesterday. She has an all-day meeting today and in order to keep her awake and adjust to the time change, we did a long walk to The Regent’s Park late in the afternoon. It is amazing that the roses in Queen Mary’s Garden are still blooming in a major way this late into the year.
Earlier in the day I realized that England were to play San Marino at Wembley in the evening, and I knew that Peter would be disappointed if I didn’t attempt to get a ticket.
I got to my seat near half-time just as Wayne Rooney was taking a penalty to make it 2 – nil.
As San Marino is considered the worst team in FIFA, the crowd was a bit sparse; announced attendance was just over 55,ooo. The final score was 5 – nil England.
I have been to lots of League matches, but never an international at Wembley, and I must say that the Brits have crowd control down to a science. Some of it has to do with the design of the stadium, some with the way that the police control things, but mostly it has to do with the fact that the English do nothing better that queueing.
It was a great evening; I thought of Peter the whole time. I really wish he was with me.
Mr Turner and More
We made it to the Tate Britain today to see the Turner show. It was amazing. No photography in the temporary exhibits, so no pics, but oh my, what an exhibit. He was it.
The rest of the museum was nice. All Brit artists and huge, with lots of variety.
Walked around London afterwards and saw these coots in St. James’s Park. I love coots.
Long bus ride out to Hammersmith to have a few pints at The Dove.
To me, it is the nicest and most welcoming pub in London.
John and I have a long history here. We never made it to the V and A for the Constable exhibit. Maybe tomorrow or Friday.
Lamb and Flag / Covent Garden
Really nice pub in Covent Garden. Off tomorrow to see Mr. Turner and Mr. Constable.
A Lovely Sunday
I thought it might be a nice day today as this happened this morning when I threw a handful of things from my pocket on the bed.
John, Flora, Violet, and I drove to Broadway in the Cotswolds to walk from there to Snowshill and back.
We started on the outskirts of Broadway and we were immediately in fields.
Blackberries were plentiful.
Quite quickly we climbed up to the ridge where the view was spectacular.
As we were walking next to this pasture, we were passed by a horse carrier that contained one of this fellow’s mates. They were both whinnying and it was obvious that they weren’t happy about being split up. Horses are really interesting animals.
The footpath at times was on public roads, and at times just a narrow trail through the woods.
This is the view of Snowshill when we were about 10 minutes walk away.
Here’s another example of when the public footpath shares a country lane.
I have always liked these convex mirrors.
St. Barnabas is directly arcross the road from our halfway stop.
The Snowshill Arms is a great place for a couple of pints and the Sunday Roast. It was excellent.
After lunch, I stuck my head inside the church. It is very simple and not old (in relative terms), and the windows are beautiful.
This sweet little cat followed us for a bit and mewed the whole way.
Once outside the village, we were pretty quickly back into the woods.
It is such a peaceful walk, and we rarely saw others on the path.
Violet gave me this stone with moss growing on it.
This property is called Middle Hill House. It is pretty easy to fantasize about living in a place like this.
This sort of day is so exotic to me; for my friends who live less than an hour away it is a regular trip to make at the weekend.
It is so interesting to me that the public footpath goes right through the middle of farms and fields. We shared our walk with horses, cows, dogs, cats, and of course, lots of sheep.
This particular horse was very friendly though he could be a bit nippy.
A farm just on the outskirts of Broadway breeds dogs for the hunt, and these very friendly pups loved the attention.
A great day. Thanks to John, Flora, and Violet. Wonderful.
Violet on “Clunky”
Here is my godchild Violet on what she calls “clunky”. It is a zip line in a nice little park in Stratford upon Avon. I even got a ride on it and it is FUN.
Willard Suitcases / 2 October
Peg and I had a very productive day yesterday. We made it through an entire storage box of suitcases; we must have shot at least 14. Most were close to being empty. This safety pin was (barely) holding one of the ribbons that secures items on the bottom of the case. It is a lovely shade of green. This case belonged to Mary E. B.
I am sitting in terminal 3 at Heathrow waiting to be picked up by John Wilson. Nice to be back in England.
Another Walk and a Baby
Cris and I took the Olive up into the woods late this afternoon. Thanks to Sarah, Leonard, and SCJ (all readers of this blog) I think I can safely say that this is a ghost plant (aka Indian Pipe, monotropa uniflora, or monotropa hypopithys).
And there is no doubt this is a dirty yellow labrador retriever . It hasn’t rained much lately so the woods (is?) are full of lots of mud holes and very little running water. What is most amazing to me is that within an hour she is completely clean again.
And my lovely niece Heather just had another girl. On Sunday, we got to meet her while she was chillin’ with her big sister.
I am off to the UK on Thursday for some work and some fun. My great friend John Wilson just sent me this link to a wonderful article on lists. It is a great story. He’ll pick me up at Heathrow Friday morning and I can’t wait to see him.
Football and Frog
If you read this site regularly, you might think that most of my photography has to do with the suitcases project or random things that go on in my life. But I still shoot stuff in an attempt to make a living. Once in a while I help out my friend Thom Kendall, who has the contract to shoot UMASS sports. Today was the first game to take place in Amherst in several years, as the team has been playing home games at Gillette Stadium in Foxboro (yeah, it’s complicated). Upon review, this play was ruled a touchdown, and I was happy to get this shot.
With all the TV timeouts, I didn’t get home until about 7.45. We had some nice mozzarella and one of the last good tomatoes of the season, and Cris wondered if any of the basil that we grow in pots on the deck was still edible. It was dark out so she brought in the pot and started trimming leaves. Quite quickly she noticed that this froggie had come in with the plant. We caught it, and after I took this photograph, put him (her?) back outside. Love those sticky feet.
My Father / Colorado
My father died in August of 2007 and my brother, sister, and I have been trying to figure out when we could all meet in Colorado to spread his ashes.
Robert LeRoy Crispin (he hated the LeRoy part) was born in Central City, Colorado on 19 August 1917. He was a man completely formed by his difficult early life. At the age of 6 his father died (probably from black lung due to his working in the mines), and as his mother was often poorly, he was largely raised by grandparents.
My family; Bob, Karen, I at Richard Crispin’s grave in the Knights of Pythias cemetery.
Dad’s other side of the family were buried nearby in the IOOF (Odd Fellows) Cemetery. Both sides of the family were Cornish, whose men worked in the lead mines there and came to Colorado to work the silver mines.
We spread some of dad’s ashes near his Wilkinson grandparents. This watch belonged to his grandfather. I usually keep it on my desk at home, but really wanted to bring it along for the trip.
The house he was born in on The Casey (now Casey Street) has been torn down, but this is the entry to his grandparent’s house next door. Dad would have walked through this door countless times.
And seen this view across the valley every day.
And often would have walked up this path at the end of the street.
I have been meaning to do a long post about my father for a very long time, and I know I will get to it some day. We had a somewhat complicated relationship, but he was an amazing guy whose life was remarkably full and interesting.
Jon Crispin's Notebook 
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