The Wonder of M. Photoshop

The SP and the OQ have always had a soft spot for the great M. Ingres. That guy sure could paint!
We were especially entranced by this painting of Napoleon on his throne which we saw live and in person when we visited St. Louis a couple of Julys ago.



Now, we have infinite faith in our own M. Photoshop's ability to reproduce any style of art and tailor it specifically to the needs of the SP, so we put it to M. Photoshop; could he create a portrait of our own little prince in the style of M. Ingres?
Ahhh, we should have known.
M. Photoshop merely chuckled and, eyes twinkling with delight he turned to his canvas. It was not long before he presented us with this



A delightful addition to the royal portrait gallery. I tell ya, that M. Photoshop is worth his weight in gold, and pardon me for the bias but I think M. Ingres would be envious of the superior gorgeousness of the subject.

Technical Difficulties

The Prine at the Fountain

Due to technical difficulties the court in exile will not be able to post as regularly as we usually do, nor will we be able to keep up with those whose wit and wisdom we follow regularly online.

We hope to have this situation under control within the next few days. Until then cheers from the court of the Shoestring Prince.

The Crown In Exile Is Pleased

...to present the newest work of M. Photoshop, court painter.
It's just a typical day in the life of the Shoestring Prince

This Is NOT a Political Blog...BUT...

(As a native of Berkeley, the Old Queen believes in a socially just monarchy, and in a monarchy where everyone sees themeslves as creatures of value whose worth is reflected in the faces of those who represent them. If you don't believe this read back posts about the importance of boys seeing men and other boys as professional dancers. It makes a huge difference in attitude. I think the time is ripe for little Barack Obamas to see themselves in the role of president...as no doubt little rail splitters did when they looked upon that other "inexperienced" Illinois Senator who rose to the post of president. Yep, it can happen, so keep dreamin' big kids! That's a royal order from The Shoestring Prince, and The Old Queen)

(From the royal library at Wiki.answers)

What is the origin of the name Barack?
In: Name Origins

"Barack" is a word that is shared among several languages. First, it is a word in the Semitic family of languages. As such it has a root in Hebrew (but written baruch), a version in Aramaic (berek), a version in Arabic (baraka). (See Strong's Hebrew Bible Dictionary, entries 1288-1294.) It also occurs as a loan word in non-Semitic languages that have been influenced by these Semitic languages. As often happens, cognate words are similar in pronunciation. What appears in a later-appearing language may sound like something else in the earlier language. And in English we sometimes see words that are pronounced the same and even spelled the same, but that have very different meanings. Barack or Barak means 'lightning' in Hebrew.

(Barachiel is the old queen's own patron angel for her birth month of February!)

The name Barak is also mentioned in the Bible in the book of Judges. Barak was part of the story of the prophetess Deborah. Baruch (or Baruwk, Baruk, Strong, 1263) and its cognates berek and baraka all mean the same. Strong, 1288, says "barak, baw-rak', a primitive root; to kneel; by implication to bless God (as an act of adoration), and (vice-versa) man (as a benefit)."

http://www.virtualchristiancenter.com/biblestudytools/kjvstrongs/STRHEB12.htm

Regardless of how one spells the name, it gives two possible and not contradictory meanings. One is "a blessing from God," and another is "a blessing from God that the individual may pass on to others as a benefit to them."

The second meaning is very clear in the Sufi tradition in which the searcher for Allah, or as Jesus would have called Him Alaha, receives from his or her teacher a transmission of some key to seeing what Meister Eckhard called the "divine spark" within each of us. ) If you pray to Allah you may choose to call your child Barak. If you pray to Alaha you may choose to call your child Berek. If you think you are praying to different gods or bestowing names with different meanings you may benefit from further study.

...just sayin'.

Sir Ken Robinson 4 Minister of Education

While the fact that he has been knighted tends to convince us that our beloved cousin Elizabeth, by the grace of God, etc. has managed to get her hooks into him first, (you've won this round, Elizabeth, but it isn't over yet!) the SP and I are very interested in proposing Sir Ken Robinson's name for the post of Minister of Education should we ever regain our kingdom.

In the event that we never regain it...please, check out this very interesting video where Sir Ken considers whether education, as we currently define it, kills creativity.

Honestly, that Elizabeth gets all the luck!

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/ken_robinson_says_schools_kill_creativity.html

The Good, The Bad & The Dance Belt

(Nutcracker wearing a dance belt. Really, what else is there to say?)

It is a right of passage for every little girl who sticks with ballet long enough; she gets to wear a tutu, the ethereal spun sugar confection of which a million princess dreams are made.

For the boys, there is the dance belt.
A thong...yes, a thong, since the full bottom kind create what I suppose must be called, (forgive me little danseurs) "panty line" and in tights these lines are hideously apparent. Since other things are made much more apparent in tights as well, it is the job of the all important dance belt to preserve a gentleman's modesty and the sensibilities of the ballet audience who, while they may enjoy watching the dancer "fly" do not wish to see his junk do the same.

Not only that but dance belts, which are a kind of athletic supporter for dancers, can be a life saver when a ballerina's errant foot/knee/elbow makes contact with the wrong place.
Boys may not like the thong aspect, but without the protection afforded by a dance belt the 'Nut'cracker will do just that!

The whole dance belt situation just underscores the need for male ballet teachers, not only as role models, but for their practical experience in situations such as these.
How does one...er...situate oneself? Well don't look at ME?! While I can fake teaching the SP to shave, with the help of a leg razor and an indifference to embarrassment I can't even BEGIN to fake this one! For, while it may not have been my face I have shaved. I have never adjusted.

For those of you who follow this blog (and that means you are my son, so hey baby) here is a link to an interesting article from the New York Times on getting boys into ballet.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/08/19/arts/dance/19good.html?pagewanted=1&ei=5089&en=cdeaeb251dd0b13a&ex=1345176000&partner=rssyahoo&emc=rss

Crack a' Dem Nuts!

(Our unfortunate cousin Prince Ken. Smiling bravely in the face of a tragic physical deformity which has left him somewhat...anatomically incorrect. He will never, we fear, be able to produce an heir)

Royal families are slaves to duty. It is a well known fact that if you are from a royal family you cannot truly live for yourself. It is the price one pays for the position into which one is born.

Well, I guess that is equally true for deposed royalty, in fact, for us it is even more important to be above reproach and ever ready to answer the call, otherwise we are little more than just another joe schmoe with a heavy, funny looking gaudy hat hidden under the bed.

The Prince has seen the ominous fate of ex-kings who allow themselves to forsake royal duty for mere publicity seeking. Next thing you know you are using your royal robes to become a shill for a fast food joint that cranks out paper replicas of your crown for children to wear while they are having burgers "their way". DON'T be that king!

In the interest of duty the SP has answered the call that sooner or later comes to every young prince who is enrolled in a dance class. He has been called upon to pick up his sword and lead a fighting force of superior armed little girls into battle against an army of mice. The battle field---in the shadow of a gargantuan Christmas tree.

Think of it as a sort of Saving Private Ryan with dancing desserts and tutus.

My son is to be....The NUTCRACKER!

In a bizarre example of art imitating fabricated life the SP is going to play the Nutcracker Prince for his dance school's version of The Nutcracker.

His prior nutcracking experience was as one of that hard bitten band of mouse fighters in the trenches. In that production the Nutcracker was an adult man with years of dance training and experience so the SP didn't stand a chance of usurping that particular throne.

This year he is swimming in a much smaller pond where one year of on and off (I couldn't afford $500 a month for dance for a 11 year old boy!) ballet lessons does not stand in the way of the title role in THE Christmas ballet.

Ah well, what he lacks in experience he makes up for in gorgeousness. That Clara is a lucky girl...here's hoping she is also tiny and easy to lift!