April 10, 2010

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JB dragged me to a garage sale this morning. Newport is a fine venue for a garage sale, as it has such a long and colourful history, and is populated by an army of characters and collectors. Despite this, I tend to avoid such sales like the plague; I have had a bad habit of collecting junk myself, and largely try to avoid any added temptations.

Today, however, and of course I find something worth the trip. I found a Kalliroscope “Pocket Viewer” for a dollar. In the original box, with the original paperwork, but sadly missing the small rotating ball-bearing base. This was a neat find for me; I’d had never before seen one in person, or even in colour, but had long wanted to encounter one.

It all started years ago. My mother passed to me a copy of The Last Whole Earth Catalog, the actual “Last” one from 1971, #1160. Like a paper version of a Google search, the Whole Earth Catalog was an incredible inch-thick 11″x14″ tome, primitive, direct, and optimistic, championing “access to tools” within its pages.

In that particular issue, some articles and items were singled out for special mention. This was signified on the page by an image of a Kalliroscope next to the piece in question. The Catalog itself offered two Kalliroscopes for sale; the small hand-held globe version, and the thinner rectangular “Pocket Viewer” that I found today.

It’s hard to describe what a Kalliroscope really looks like, what it does, or how it does it. I’ve tried to find videos on-line, but haven’t found any good ones. Likewise, the website of the original inventor/manufacturer isn’t particularly helpful. Technically, the Kalliroscope is rheoscopic fluid suspension of microscopic crystalline platelets sandwiched between glass sheets. Practically, it’s a ridiculous little gizmo that you just hold and stare at while it does all this swirly cosmic stuff.

The memory of that Catalog and the inspiration I gained from it while I lived in the bus stay with me. It’s a happy little throwback to a time when sentimentality was forefront in my life. Now that I’ve lived through bitter cynicism and am now entering a strongly pragmatic period, it’s probably healthy to hold on to a few of these positive reminders of previous ages.

I’ve had a long-standing interest in traditional sailor life, art, and culture. This style of artwork has an amazingly wide appeal. In the popular media, artists such as Sailor Jerry and Ed Hardy have been really capitalizing on this as well. The culture they promote is, to my eye, an idealized expression. George S. Eisenberg’s cultural expression is not so idealized; it’s the real deal.

I’ve recently begun working with George, looking through his massive collection of letters, drawings, and memorabilia from his time aboard a WWII destroyer from 1942-1945. In the coming weeks, we will be bringing a new and exciting presentation of his work to a fresh internet forum. It’s a thoroughly fascinating and compelling look at naval wartime through the eyes of a lifelong artist, explorer, collector, and sailor.

George S. Eisenberg’s website exhibits a broad, if shallow, slice of his artwork and writing throughout the years. There’s some of the sailor work, as well as illustrative pieces from magazine and book covers, original paintings, lithographs, production studies -he drew the first drafts of GI Joe for Hasbro- and much more. Take a look!