Thanks to WU-vie Mark De Novellis, we learn of a new UK exhibition devoted to the work of outsider artist Madge Gill. If you image-google her name, you get tons of examples, such as you see above.
A nice visit if you're in the UK over the next several months.
After recovering from her illness, she took a sudden and passionate interest in drawing, creating thousands of mediumistic works over the following 40 years, most done with ink in black and white. The works came in all sizes, from postcard-sized to huge sheets of fabric, some over 30 feet (9.1 m) long. She claimed to be guided by a spirit she called "Myrninerest" (my inner rest) and often signed her works in this name.
"This Museum was established in 1990 by the Heimatverein Neroth in the old School House to celebrate the mouse trap making cottage industry that had flourished in Neroth and nearby villages for over one hundred years."
Oysters will grow on almost any surface, including false teeth, if that's what happens to be available. The tooth-growing oyster shown above was found in the Chesapeake Bay in 1898, and sent to the Smithsonian where they were put on display and became quite a popular attraction. But soon a paternity battle erupted around them. The story was told in the Saint Paul Globe (Nov 30, 1902):
Experts of the United States fish commission have made a special study of the conditions under which oysters grow, and, to illustrate the adaptability of the mollusks, they have got together a very curious collection of objects. It comprises oysters growing upon a great variety of things, such as old boots, rubber shoes, beer glasses, and even a lantern. There is a broken bottle inside of which, as well as on the outside, oysters have found a home.
And, oddest of all, there is an upper set of false teeth to which an enterprising oyster is firmly attached.
The history of this last oyster is decidedly interesting. About four years ago it was raked out of the waters of Chesapeake bay by a dredging boat, together with the false teeth to which it was firmly fixed, and teeth and oyster were acquired by a hotel keeper at Cowart, Va., whose wife forwarded them to the Smithsonian Institution at Washington. The matter obtaining some advertisement, a man named Webster, residing in Bedford, Iowa, claimed the teeth, saying that he had lost them from a steamer bound for Norfolk.
The Smithsonian officials were undecided at first as to whether they should surrender the teeth or not, the object being so great a curiosity that they were anxious to hold on to it. But not many days later a Philadelphia woman claimed them, asserting that they were hers, and actually a third party, visiting the institution, demanded them, declaring that he recognized them as having been lost by himself.
Probably, from first to last, a good many persons have lost their false teeth overboard in the Chesapeake, the waters of which are liable to be pretty rough at times. Any way, the government scientists did not care to decide the dispute, and concluded to retain the specimen.
Half a century later, in 1954, yet another guy insisted the teeth were his, but in this case the Smithsonian was able to definitively rule out his claim, pointing out that the guy hadn't even been born yet when the teeth were found.
I'm guessing the Smithsonian probably still has this tooth-growing oyster hidden away somewhere in its archives.
According to this LIFE magazine article, art collector Henry Clews had a taste for the bizzare, as seen in the statue above. His French Mediterranean home is now a museum, and you can visit, or even apply for an arts residency there!
Ah, the glorious old days of VHS tapes, when the world was first opened to amateur video! Please visit the website of the Found Footage Festival to see more wonders like the one above.
In what looks likely to go down as the slowest naval engagement of all time, rival punting companies in the historic English town of Cambridge are apparently engaging in a clandestine war for the city's annual passenger river-trade, worth an estimated £2.5m ($4m). The latest move in what the locals dub "the punt wars" has seen two of the flat, pole-propelled craft belonging to one local operator sawn through from end to end. Until now, some punt companies have stuck to using stink bombs or liquid soap to incapacitate their rivals' craft, or have severed mooring chains so that the boats must be found and recovered before they can start work, but this latest escalation of the conflict, which caused £10k of actual damage, is worrying many people. Some are now calling for a limit on the number of punts allowed to work on the river (Guardian).
Meanwhile, in Milan in Italy, the loan-collateral held in the vault at Credito Emiliano is not only protected by inches of steel and high-tech alarms systems, it's also maintained at the perfect temperature and humidity, and turned and cleaned by automated systems to ensure that it keeps its value. That's because Credito Emiliano is offering the local cheese-makers loans of up to 60% of the value of any parmesan cheese deposited with them. With each parmesan wheel worth 300 euros ($400), and local producers typically putting up 2000 wheels in a year in collateral, this has meant the bank has lent nearly 420 thousand euros ($600k) to each customer against the cheese in their vault. Which is gouda news for the local cheese industry (AP).
If there is one food that could be intimately linked with the German city of Berlin, it's the currywurst. A twisted cousin to the American chilli-dog, from a parallel universe so evil even the women have goatees, the Berlin currywurst is a sliced pork sausage served with plenty of powdered curry and cayenne and covered in a spicy, curry sauce and sold by street vendors to the passing trade. So popular is this snack in Berlin that the city has just opened the Currywurst Museum to show off the dish's history to tourists and locals alike. Partly this is to support Berlin's claims to be the birthplace of the currywurst, but it is also hoped the museum will promote the snack in the face of increasing competition from more conventional fast food. As one might expect from a museum dedicated to this singular foodstuff, the cafeteria includes an authentic currywurst stand (Times).
Paul Di Filippo
Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.