Author Kevin

Suffering in Egypt

My summer in Montana is wrapping up. It has been beautiful. A summer punctuated by hot, pine-scented mornings hiking the loop behind my parent’s house, and big-sky nights that occasionally wink with the streak of a meteor or erupt into thunder, hail and lightning.

Heat and thunder also emanate from the stream of news from around the world: sexual/political scandals, secret  government spying programs and summertime violence across the globe. I’ve been trying to keep up with news of the protests in Brazil and Egypt. These protests show the fragility of the veil that separates the acceptable play of order and chaos in human society from the unbearably cruel and destructive influence of the same forces. Look how quickly the intention to show up and speak your piece can turn to deadly and brutal conflict.

Yesterday, an American photographer in Cairo posted a gallery of his very recent photos to Reddit.

I started taking pictures as soon as I arrived, being the only white guy I got a few strange looks, and some pretty angry faces. A few threatening protestors told me I couldn’t take pictures and to leave immediately. A group of 15 or so protestors started to gather around me and a bunch of angry Arabic flew back and forth. So ya… maybe not the best idea?

Finally someone started speaking English to me! After explaining to the crowd I was there to record and tell they’re story, they welcomed me into their family. They brought me a translator, water, anything I needed.

The photos in the gallery he posted are raw and unnerving, so watch out. They show a much more vivid side of the conflict than I’ve seen elsewhere on the news. The expression of anguish in this particular photograph stood out to me immediately. I recognized his twisted, pained expression from two Rodin sculptures on display at the Art Institute of Chicago. (Here’s a post about my visit there in 2011.)

He was asked a question about the smells he encountered while taking these photographs by Reddit user mineown2020:

Absolutely serious question: What does it smell like in these photos?

His response:

Burning. Tear gas and burning rubber. The hospital didn’t smell to bad, they brought a guy in with a headshot wound, and after a few hours I would get a really eery terrible whiff of decay whenever I went by him. I don’t know if it was in my mind or real.

Worst than the smell was walking around in the mosque (have to take shoes off) with blood sticking to your feet. After a few hours when the floor got bad, everyone was like fuck it we puttin dem shoes on!

Choirs Synchronize Heartbeats

I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t read it in the news. When a choir sings, their hearts beat to the same rythem.

Using pulse monitors attached to the singers’ ears, the researchers measured the changes in the choir members’ heart rates as they navigated the intricate harmonies of a Swedish hymn. When the choir began to sing, their heart rates slowed down.

“When you sing the phrases, it is a form of guided breathing,” says musicologist Bjorn Vickhoff of the Sahlgrenska Academy who led the project. “You exhale on the phrases and breathe in between the phrases. When you exhale, the heart slows down.”

But what really struck him was that it took almost no time at all for the singers’ heart rates to become synchronized. The readout from the pulse monitors starts as a jumble of jagged lines, but quickly becomes a series of uniform peaks. The heart rates fall into a shared rhythm guided by the song’s tempo.

How long does it take for them to go out of sync after the concert? Doesn’t say.

Just Crazy

Big Jay Mcneely going crazy!

Harpo Tickles Ivories

Watch this great scene from the Marx Brother’s A Night At The Opera. The brothers have stowed away for America on a cruise ship and in this scene Harpo plays for a group of Italian kids. Musical slapstick, check it out!

Bannack’s in Time Out

Chris and Bannack were featured in Time Out for Father’s Day. A photographer stopped them on their way home from the park. (Ismay too, you can see her stocking-cap head sticking out of Chris’ sling.) She asked Bannack some tough questions about why he thought Chris is the best dad in the world. He had a lot to say but they printed his best line:

Tell us why you have the best dad in the world.
“He made my baby sister!”—Bannack, 3, Brooklyn 

Photograph: Cinzia Reale-Castello