Jankel's Illustrated World
Of broken eggshells and other seminal phenomena
By: Jankel Jankelbrod

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Tuesday, 20-Apr-2004 00:00 Email | Share | | Bookmark

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A dear oldfashioned woman's name, Wilhelmina, just chosen by the meteorologists, because W follows V in the alphabet, to indicate a region with low pressure on their weathermaps -- and this low gives us here such fabulous clouds, that makes one wonder, if the whole world is perhaps against all the odds maybe an episode in a game of Mario the plumber, and that we are invited to jump from cloud to cloud, ever higher, and to bump the gold coins from some secret hidden place above our heads (secret for adults, only real kidzz know how to do the trick).
Such was the weather here in provincial France, and even my blue wife on the horizon, the Vosges mountain range, had taken up a slightly coloured springfrock, gay with the purplebrowns of the treebuds, and the green haze of the first little leaves.
By the way, on the far right of these pictures one can see Le Corbusiers famous chapel, that he built in Ronchamp, on the spot where the former Marychapel was destroyed in wartime. As soon as the weather will be more kind, I will visit that monument of modernism and take some pictures of it.

Monday, 19-Apr-2004 00:00 Email | Share | | Bookmark
Family life

all in the family
young bull
Mother there
Big sis there
Youngster there
and Father?
Grazing a little offside, is he, with a watchful eye.
Poor mother is tethered, not only bonded to her calf
but also by a long piece of I don't know what, that is hooked just above her hoof.
I hope the farmer will see it, when he brings them their fodder, tomorrow morning.
And that other solitary young bull -- well, I hope he will be a father too, someday.
It is so unusual to see complete bovine families in the meadow
and with their hirsute fluffy wintercoats still on.

Sunday, 18-Apr-2004 00:00 Email | Share | | Bookmark

'I sow with each wind'
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Some are more successful than others -- some are real pioneers, some are gifted with methods to spread themselves in great masses and occupy every space that offers them with a little bit of moist earth, and a little bit of sunshine, and even the chance, that they might come underfoot, doesn't discourage them.
The French lexicon Petit Larousse takes an example from the dandelion and its little seedy paratroopers in its wish that sage words may spread all over the world, in each direction, and that they may float on all the four winds.

Saturday, 17-Apr-2004 00:00 Email | Share | | Bookmark

ballons des vosges (with le corbusier's chapel)
Le Rahin (chez Roye)
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Living on the Southern brim of the Vosges, it is practically impossible, looking north, or east, not to see the characteristic form of the rounded mountainpeaks -- well, not really peaks, they have more or less, like the locals say, the form of halve globes, or balls, 'ballon' in French. And so I see the Ballon d'Alsace, the Ballon de Servance and several other rounded mountains, all between 1250 and 1400 meters high (sorry you footsy people, I don't know how much that might be in feet, try to multiplicate with three...).
So each time I am out in this landscape to draw or paint or photograph the scenery, they are there, these ballons, laying on the horizon, like a rounded lazy blue woman, and somehow I consider them as my prostrate nude model.
Or, if the weather is benevolent, I see them more in the role of an almost permanent background, like the Mount Fuji (Fuji Yama) on the woodprints of Hokusai and Hiroshige. And with all the cherryblossoms, I dream of my own Vosgi-Yamaprints.
I have chosen some very light and slightly hazy pictures, that give a good idea of springlight on an afternoon in the French countryside.

Friday, 16-Apr-2004 00:00 Email | Share | | Bookmark
Box of paints

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"I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints"
(Joni Mitchell, A Case of You)

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