We are pleased to announce that on January 21, 2010 ‘Kind of blurry’ became official member 20331 of The Cloud Appreciation Society.

The Cloud Appreciation Society is an organization based in the UK promoting an interest in clouds, and has over 20,000 members all over the world. Read more about it in this previous article.

To be in a fog or to be in a haze

Fig. confused, not alert; dazed; not paying attention to what is going on around one

To be lost in the mists of time

Fig. to be forgotten because it happened a long time ago

To mist over or to mist up

Fig. to fog up; to develop a coating of water vapor so that one cannot see

To see the red mist

Fig. to lose temper or self-control completely

Scotch mist

Fig. something hard to find or non-existing; something imagined

To have one’s head in the clouds

Fig. to daydream; to be unaware of what is going on from fantasies

Every cloud has a silver lining

Prov. You can derive some benefit from every bad thing that happens to you

To be under a cloud

Fig. to be suspected of something

A cloud on the horizon

Fig. a problem or difficulty which you expect to happen in the future

To live in cloud-cuckoo land

Fig. to believe that things you want will happen, when really they are impossible

To be on cloud nine

Fig. to be very happy

[...] And I come to the fields and spacious palaces of memory, where are the treasures of innumerable images, brought into it from things of all sorts perceived by the senses. There is stored up, whatever besides we think, either by enlarging or diminishing, or any other way varying those things which the sense hath come to; and whatever else hath been committed and laid up, which forgetfulness hath not yet swallowed up and buried. When I enter there, I require instantly what I will to be brought forth, and something instantly comes; others must be longer sought after, which are fetched, as it were out of some inner receptacle; others rush out in troops, and while one thing is desired and required, they start forth, as who should say, ‘Is it perchance I?’ These I drive away with the hand of my heart from the face of my remembrance; until what I wish for be unveiled, and appear in sight, out of its secret place. Other things come up readily, in unbroken order, as they are called for; those in front making way for the following; and as they make way, they are hidden from sight, ready to come when I will. All which takes place when I recite a thing by heart.

There are all things preserved distinctly and under general heads, each having entered by its own avenue: as light, and all colours and forms of bodies by the eyes; by the ears all sorts of sounds; all smells by the avenue of the nostrils; all tastes by the mouth; and by the sensation of the whole body, what is hard or soft; hot or cold; or rugged; heavy or light; either outwardly or inwardly to the body. All these doth that great harbour of the memory receive in her numberless secret and inexpressible windings, to be forthcoming, and brought out at need; each entering in by his own gate, and there laid up. Nor yet do the things themselves enter in; only the images of the things perceived are there in readiness, for thought to recall. Which images, how they are formed, who can tell, though it doth plainly appear by which sense each hath been brought in and stored up? For even while I dwell in darkness and silence, in my memory I can produce colours, if I will, and discern betwixt black and white, and what others I will: nor yet do sounds break in and disturb the image drawn in by my eyes, which I am reviewing, though they also are there, lying dormant, and laid up, as it were, apart. For these too I call for, and forthwith they appear. And though my tongue be still, and my throat mute, so can I sing as much as I will; nor do those images of colours, which notwithstanding be there, intrude themselves and interrupt, when another store is called for, which flowed in by the ears. So the other things, piled in and up by the other senses, I recall at my pleasure. Yea, I discern the breath of lilies from violets, though smelling nothing; and I prefer honey to sweet wine, smooth before rugged, at the time neither tasting nor handling, but remembering only.

These things do I within, in that vast court of my memory. For there are present with me, heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I could think on therein, besides what I have forgotten. There also meet I with myself, and recall myself, and when, where, and what I have done, and under what feelings. There be all which I remember, either on my own experience, or other’s credit. Out of the same store do I myself with the past continually combine fresh and fresh likenesses of things which I have experienced, or, from what I have experienced, have believed: and thence again infer future actions, events and hopes, and all these again I reflect on, as present. “I will do this or that,” say I to myself, in that great receptacle of my mind, stored with the images of things so many and so great, “and this or that will follow.” “O that this or that might be!” “God avert this or that!” So speak I to myself: and when I speak, the images of all I speak of are present, out of the same treasury of memory; nor would I speak of any thereof, were the images wanting.

Great is this force of memory, excessive great, O my God; a large and boundless chamber! who ever sounded the bottom thereof? yet is this a power of mine, and belongs unto my nature; nor do I myself comprehend all that I am. Therefore is the mind too strait to contain itself. And where should that be, which it containeth not of itself? Is it without it, and not within? how then doth it not comprehend itself? A wonderful admiration surprises me, amazement seizes me upon this. And men go abroad to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty billows of the sea, the broad tides of rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars, and pass themselves by; nor wonder that when I spake of all these things, I did not see them with mine eyes, yet could not have spoken of them, unless I then actually saw the mountains, billows, rivers, stars which I had seen, and that ocean which I believe to be, inwardly in my memory, and that, with the same vast spaces between, as if I saw them abroad. Yet did not I by seeing draw them into myself, when with mine eyes I beheld them; nor are they themselves with me, but their images only. And I know by what sense of the body each was impressed upon me.

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Height = 125 x (outside temperature ºC – dew point ºC)
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So for example, imagine the temperature is 24ºC and the dew point 18ºC. The cloud you are looking at will be at a height of 125 x (24-18) = 750 m.

The dew point is the temperature at which water vapor begins to condense by cooling the air without moisture being fed or discharged. Once the dew point temperature is reached the air is saturated with water vapor and the relative humidity 100%. If you don’t know the current dew point, check this automatic dew point calculator.

In certain favourable moods, memories –what one has forgotten– come to the top. Now if this is so, is it not possible –I often wonder– that things that we have felt with great intensity have an existence independent of our minds; are in fact still in existence? And if so, will it not be possible, in time, that some device will be invented by which we can tap them? I see it –the past– as an avenue lying behind; a long ribbon of scenes, emotions. There at the end of the avenue still, are the garden and the nursery. Instead of remembering here a scene and there a sound, I shall fit a plug into the wall; and listen in to the past. I shall turn up August 1890. I feel that strong emotion must leave its trace; and it is only a question of discovering how we can get ourselves again attached to it, so that we shall be able to live our lives through from the start.

/kənˌfæbjuˈleɪʃən/

A fabricated memory believed to be true.

Confabulation is the formation of false memories, perceptions, or beliefs about the self or the environment as a result of neurological or psychological dysfunction. When it is a matter of memory, confabulation is the confusion of imagination with memory, or the confused application of true memories. It is a plausible but imagined memory that fills in gaps in what is remembered, or ‘the emergence of memories of events and experiences that never took place’ which can occur also among healthy people. Confabulations are difficult to differentiate from delusions and from lying.

Confabulations might have have organic causes, such as brain damage, amnesia, dementia or the use of certain drugs. Patiens with Korsakoff’s syndrome tipically confabulate by guessing an answer or imagining an event and then mistaking their guess or imagination for an actual memory.

A number of studies point as well psychological causes, e.g. the constructivist view of memory maintains that reasoning influences memory, in contrast to the idea that memory supports reasoning.

There are two main types of confabulations:

1) “momentary” (or “provoked”) confabulations, fleeting, and invariably provoked by questions probing the subject’s memory, sometimes consisting of “real” memories displaced in their temporal context.
2) “fantastic” (or “spontaneous”) confabulations, characterised by the spontaneous irrelevant associations, sometimes bizarre ideas, which may be held with firm conviction.

Confabulation was not introduced to the medical literature until around 1900 and has intrigued psychiatrists and neurologists for more than a century as a potential key to unlocking the mysteries of human memory and imagination.

1. Inability of the eye, due to ageing, to focus on nearby objects

Presbyopia (Greek word “presbys” (πρέσβυς), meaning “old man” or “elder”, with Latin root “-opia”, meaning “eye”) describes the condition where the eye exhibits a progressively diminished ability to focus on near objects with age. Presbyopia’s exact mechanisms are not known with certainty, however, the research evidence most strongly supports a loss of elasticity of the crystalline lens.

Similar to grey hair and wrinkles, presbyopia is a symptom caused by the natural course of aging; the direct translation of the condition’s name is “elder eye”. The first symptoms are usually first noticed between the ages of 40-50. The ability to focus on near objects declines throughout life.

The first symptoms most people notice are difficulty reading fine print, particularly in low light conditions, eyestrain when reading for long periods, blur at near or momentarily blurred vision when transitioning between viewing distances. Many extreme presbyopes complain that their arms have become “too short” to hold reading material at a comfortable distance.

Presbyopia, like other focus defects, becomes much less noticeable in bright sunlight. This is a result of the iris closing to a smaller diameter. As with any lens, increasing the focal ratio of the lens increases depth of field by reducing the level of blur of out-of-focus objects (compare the effect of aperture on depth of field in photography).

In Spellbound, directed by Aldred Hitchcock in 1945, featuring Ingrid Bergman and Gregory Peck, a female psychoanalyst protects the identity of an amnesia patient accused of murder while attempting to recover his memory. The set for the dream scene was designed by Salvador Dalí.

The Cloud Appreciation Society’s Manifesto

We believe that clouds are unjustly maligned and that life would be immeasurably poorer without them.
We think that they are Nature’s poetry, and the most egalitarian of her displays, since everyone can have a fantastic view of them.
We pledge to fight ‘blue-sky thinking’ wherever we find it. Life would be dull if we had to look up at cloudless monotony day after day.
We seek to remind people that clouds are expressions of the atmosphere’s moods, and can be read like those of a person’s countenance.
Clouds are so commonplace that their beauty is often overlooked. They are for dreamers and their contemplation benefits the soul. Indeed, all who consider the shapes they see in them will save on psychoanalysis bills.
And so we say to all who’ll listen: Look up, marvel
at the ephemeral beauty, and live life with your head
in the clouds!

霞 【かすみ】 kasumi, (spring) mist [frequently translated as 'haze']

朝霞 【あさがすみ】 asagasumi, morning mist
夕霞 【ゆうがすみ】 yūgasumi, evening mist
遠霞 【とおがすみ】 tōgasumi, distant mist

This refers to being unable to see things in the distance because they are obscured by a somewhat cloudy atmosphere. This is not a meteorologist’s technical term, but indicates mist made up of fine droplets of water floating in the air. The phenomenon is common in autumn, with ‘fog’ (霧【きり】 kiri) being the established autumn kidai; ‘mist’ (霞【かすみ】 kasumi), is the term for spring. It seems that water vapor rising in warm air, making all of nature look blurred and calm, permeates things with the tranquillity of spring.
In addition to ‘morning mist’, ‘evening mist’, and ‘distant mist’, poets use such phrases as ‘the grass is misty’ (草霞む【くさかすむ】 kusa kasumu) and ‘the bell is mist-muffled’ (鐘霞む【かねかすむ】 kane kasumu). However, when the same phenomenon occurs at night, it is called ‘misty’ (朧【おぼろ】 oboro).

霧 【きり】 kiri, autumn mist / fog

狭霧 【さぎり】 sagiri, thin fog / thin autumn mist
霧襖 【きりふすま】 kirifusuma（きりぶすま）, wall of fog/mist [literally 'fog fusuma', sliding door of fog]

From Bashō:

kirishigure / fuji o minu hi zo / omoshiroki

in the misty rain
Mount Fuji is veiled all day —
how intriguing!

My judgment is now clear and free from the misty shadows of ignorance with which my ill-starred and continuous reading of those detestable books of chivalry had obscured it. Now I know their absurdities and their deceits, and the only thing that grieves me is that this discovery has come too late, and leaves me no time to make amends by reading other books, which might enlighten my soul. I feel, niece, that I am on the point of death, and I should like to meet it in such a manner as to convince the world that my life has not been so bad as to leave me the character of a madman; for though I have been one, I would not confirm the fact in my death.

Yo tengo juicio ya, libre y claro, sin las sombras caliginosas de la ignorancia, que sobre él me pusieron mi amarga y continua leyenda de los detestables libros de las caballerías. Ya conozco sus disparates y sus embelecos, y no me pesa sino que este desengaño ha llegado tan tarde, que no me deja tiempo para hacer alguna recompensa, leyendo otros que sean luz del alma. Yo me siento, sobrina, a punto de muerte; querría hacerla de tal modo, que diese a entender que no había sido mi vida tan mala, que dejase renombre de loco; que puesto que lo he sido, no querría confirmar esta verdad en mi muerte.

Nothing in nature has a hard outline, but everything is seen against something else, and its outlines fade gently into that something else, often so subtlely that you cannot quite distinguish where one ends and the other begins. In this mingled decision and indecision, this lost and found, lies all the charm and mistery of nature.

P.H. Emerson, The misty river, ca. 1890 / print ca. 1895 photogravure print, 15.0 x 19.6 cm.

All of this that is happening to me, and happening to others about me, is it reality or is it fiction? May not all of it perhaps be a dream of God, or of whomever it may be, which will vanish as soon as He wakes?
And therefore when we pray to Him, and cause canticles and hymns to rise to Him, is it not that we may lull Him to sleep, rocking the cradle of His dreams? Is not the whole liturgy, of all religions, only a way perhaps of soothing God in His dreams, so that He shall not wake and cease to dream us?

Todo esto que me pasa y que les pasa a los que me rodean, ¿es realidad o es ficción? ¿No es acaso todo esto un sueño de Dios o de quien sea, que se desvanecerá en cuanto Él despierte, y por eso le rezamos y le elevamos a Él cánticos e himnos, para adormecerle, para acunar su sueño? ¿No es acaso la liturgia toda de todas las religiones un modo de brezar el sueño de Dios y que no despierte y deje de soñarnos?

Piña colada, barbapapá que se va / Piña colada, disappearing candy floss (2004) © elBulli Restaurant Photography by Francesc Guillamet

Ingredients (serves 10)

30 per cent Sugar Syrup

100 g water
30 g sugar

1. Mix water and sugar and bring to a boil.
2. Refrigerate.

Base for Rum Marbles

88 g of sugar syrup
2.5 g sodium alginate
35 g dark rum
105 g light rum

1. In a tall, narrow container, mix the sugar syrup and the sodium alginate.
2. Beat with an electric mixer until there are no lumps of sodium alginate left.
3. Add dark rum and blend again.
4. Add light rum and blend for three seconds.
5. Refrigerate in a sealed container for 12 hours.

Calcium chloride mix

1500 g water
6.5 g calcium chloride

1. Using a whisk, dissolve calcium chloride in water.
2. Set aside.

Making the rum marbles

200 g rum marble base (as previously prepared)
1500 g calcium chloride mix (as previously prepared)

1. Using a round spoon two centimetres in diameter, make 60 spherical rum marbles from the calcium chloride mixture.
2. Boil for two minutes and drain.
3. Keep covered with water until ready to use, but for no more than ten minutes.

Pineapple juice

1 pineapple, 700 g

1. Remove both ends of the pineapple.
2. Peel and core.
3. Liquefy in an electric blender.
4. Strain one fourth of the blended pulp, applying pressure to remove the juice.
5. Put the remaining pulp through a Superbag.
6. Mix the two amounts of juice together.
7. Refrigerate in a sealed container.

Coconut Milk

350 g Sicoly Coconut milk

1. Strain and put into a sauce dispenser (squeeze bottle).
2. Refrigerate.

Other

100 g sugar

Presentation

1. Put six rum marbles in each of the ten cocktail glasses.
2. Cover the rum marbles with chilled coconut milk.
3. Put two grams of sugar in the candy floss machine and collect with a skewer as it comes out of the machine.
4. Place a 12 centimetre tall ball of candy floss on top of each glass.
5. Serve the cocktail. The waiter will finish filling each glass with cold pineapple juice until the candy floss disappears completely.

Current satellite image of the Grand Banks
© Environment Canada / NOAA Polar Orbiting Sat imagery

The foggiest place in the world is the Grand Banks off the island of Newfoundland, Canada, with over 200 foggy days each year.

Fog is frequent here as the Grand Banks is the meeting place of the cold Labrador Current from the north and the much warmer Gulf Stream from the south. The cold Labrador Current runs over the Grand Banks, and when warm air passes over this water, a dense fog forms.

The fog, shallow waters and drifting icebergs make navigation difficult in this region. About 150 km south of the Grand Banks lies the shipwreck of the Titanic.

The foggiest land areas in the world are Point Reyes, California, and Argentia, Newfoundland and Labrador, both with around 200 foggy days a year.

Grand Banks / Map by Planiglobe

Fog in the Grand Banks / photo courtesy of M. Theberge, Maine Maritime Academy

Clouds found on the earth’s surface which obscure visibility to less than 1000 metres are called fog. Ground fog or low lying fog refers to fog located below eye level. Fog is formed when vapour-laden air cools down or when cool air and warm air mix together. The names given to sorts of fog in meteorology reveal the conditions under which a given sort is formed.

Radiation fog is formed by surface radiation during periods of clear weather as the ground temperature decreases after sundown. The cooler and heavier air flows down an incline towards ditches, where it combines with moister air and creates fog.

Radiation fog can form above snow around sundown when temperatures are very low. It can be very dense and reduce local visibility to less than 10 metres. When fog and wet roads begin to freeze, road conditions become slippery. Fog can also form above snow when the thaw sets in, as the warmer air flows over the cold snow. The fog is formed by the movement of warmer air, so that conditions are also often windy.

At sea, fog forms when cool air flows over relatively warm seawater or when warm air comes into contact with the cold sea. In the spring and early summer, warm air coming from Southern Europe can cause a mass of dense fog (a fog bank) to form above the cold North Sea. If the offshore wind is not strong enough, during the afternoon wind will blow the fog inland from the coast. This type of sea fog which suddenly moves in from the sea is called sea smoke.

Frontal fog forms when rain falls from warm air relatively high up in the atmosphere through cooler air on the ground. The rain is warmer as it falls through the cold air, causing fog to form. Rain can also cause saturation fog when the sun comes out after a storm and there is not much wind. In the bright sunlight we can see the vapour rise up off streets and roofs.

Visibility is measured with a device called a transmissometer: a lamp that projects a narrow beam of light on to a photoelectric cell detector. When it is foggy, the light will disperse among the water droplets so that less light is emitted to the photoelectric cell a short distance away. Less light means denser fog and more limited visibility. Transmissometers can be found at airports, among other places, where they are used to measure visibility on runways. On motorways, a specially adapted version of these visibility detectors is used to give fog alerts. Electrical warning signs alert motorists and display a new maximum speed limit.

Transmissometer at the Royal Netherlands Meteorological Institute KNMI (photo Laura d'Ors)

by Gunther Können

When you know about them, you will notice them: cloud streets. They occur in coastal regions if the wind blows from sea. They consist of individual cumulus clouds, which are organized in parallel lines or streets. The distance between two streets is typical 1.5 km. On the Frisian island Terschelling, where I spend a few weeks any year, I usually spot such streets a few times during each stay. They occur there during south-western wind, that is when the wind direction is parallel with the island. Over Terschelling, about 4 km wide, there are usually three of these streets; between them the sky is clear. If you are unlucky enough, such a street keeps you many hours out of the sun. Over the sea there are no clouds at all.

If you recognize a cloud street, it is worth while to search for its starting point, which is of course stream up. This starting point displays a beautiful dynamics: continuously a new ‘first cloud’ is formed, which is then transported land inward by the wind. These ‘first clouds’ seem to emerge out of nothing. Downstream one can observe that the street dies out where it happens to arrive over sea.

A clouds street is formed in an unstable and moist air mass from the sea, in which the air temperature is lower than the seawater temperature. When it has arrived over land, it may pass a spot that has heated up by solar radiation to a higher temperature than the air. This forces the air to ascend, during which cloud formation occurs. Next to a cloud street the air is descending and the sky is clear; next to that region the air ascends again and a second street is formed. From satellites the streets resemble smoke plumes which are blown land inward by the wind. Near the west coast of the Netherlands there may appear a large number of parallel streets. They are completely stationary, as their position drifts, together with that of the hottest spot, slowly north or southward along the coast. This does not happen on an island like Terschelling, where the elongated shape and small width of the island firmly pins the position of the streets down.

‘If you are ignorant of something, you will fail to see it’ –see the first line of this article.

The existence of cloud streets is only ‘recognized’ for about 40 years, and this only happened when they showed up so clearly in images taken from weather satellites that they could not be overlooked any more. Every time when I look at the cloud streets, I am surprised that we, human beings, can be so blind for the obvious. I have no doubt that much more clear effects are hidden in Nature, just waiting for a first keen observer to be discovered!

Cloud street, photographed on 30 June 2008 on the Dutch island Terschelling by G.P. Können

Gunther Können is a retired physicist and former head of the climate
analysis division of the Royal Netherlands Meteorological Institute KNMI.
Können is a keen observer of light phenomena and studies halos, rainbows,
atmospheric optics and climate. He took three times part in three-
month missions to study halos and atmospheric optics at the US South Pole
Station and the Russian Station Vostok in the inland of Antarctica.

On December 2, 2009 Minor Planet 12157 (an asteroid) received the name Können after him. Its diameter is about 6 km. Asteroid Können is at 2.4 AE from the sun and circles the sun in 3.75 year. Follow its orbit here

www.guntherkonnen.com

Günther Können, the first Dutchman at 90º00'00"S (photo courtesy of G. Können)

The mascletá as we know it today seems to have its origin in an act of movement: the mascletá correguda or ‘runned mascletá’. In the mascletá correguda, long strings with fireworks (the so-called traca) are disposed along the streets of a village or neighbourhood. The fireworks are lit at one extreme and explode all along the way, allowing people to run under the exploding fireworks or along with it, ‘accompanying the fire’.

As the route could be quite long, in order to avoid monotony in the explosions, pyrotechnicians invented a new concept: to create rythm within the explosions using respectively stronger or weaker fireworks at certains points. And so the search for aesthetic enjoyment within the explosions was born.

The beginning and/or the end of the mascletá usually took place at the church square of the village or neighbourhood. Because of the traditional urbanism of these villages, the mascletá was developed in this way: a narrow run through the streets and a final apotheosis at the squares, being those the only places which would allow an important amount of fireworks.

This tradition developed through the years and led to the modern mascletás we can enjoy today at Valencia’s city hall square. Nevertheless, some villages –as the municipality of Godella does every summer– still hold mascletás corregudas as they once were. This video courtesy of Freakpyromaniacs (8′51”) serves as an excellent example of this tradition: streets taken over by a cloud of smoke and rythmic explosions that culminate in a symphony of thunder.

by Franz Ossing

Dutch landscape painting of the 17 century has gained a unique place in art history; for the first time landscape played a role of its own due to its realist naturalistic reproduction. But the ‘realism’ in the paintings of the Dutch ‘Golden Age’ must not be wrongly interpreted that they represent a linear copy of nature (de Vries 1991), as an early form of landscape photography. The paintings have to be understood as compositions, composed of realistically reproduced elements where the whole is much more than a summary of the single parts. Hedinger (2001) has called this an ‘invented reality’ of landscape.

The artistic work of Jacob van Ruisdael is seen as the pinnacle of this painting genre. In his pictures the seemingly realistic aspects of landscape are woven intimately into masterly composed paintings (Sitt/Bisboer 2002). This is particularly true for his views of his hometown Haarlem (1). Already in the 17th century these paintings were called ‘Haarlempjes’; they represent a perfect combination of near-real topographical views, harmonic composition and a landscape depiction approaching reality (Stechow 1966, p. 45).

In these paintings, as in Dutch landscape painting as a whole, sky and meteorology play an almost overwhelming role. Weather is integrated into the scenery as the fundamental impression that each view into landscape offers.

Clouds and Weather

Weather consists of a multitude of different situations, which –particularly in the mid-latitudes of our planet– express themselves through a broad variety of clouds. The World Meteorological Organization (WMO) has tried to take this fact into account by categorising clouds into a cloud atlas (WMO 1987).

The paintings of the Dutch masters also show an incredible variety of clouds and meteorological phenomena. It is relatively simple to see that certain clouds appear often while others rarely or not at all (Neumann et al. 1996).

In the debate dealing with the extent of realism in Dutch cloud painting a broad spectrum of opinions have become evident in art history circles. The two most extreme positions contradict each other as Rostworowski (1981) finds the complete cloud atlas reproduced in Dutch landscape painting of the 17 century; there seems to be no doubt of the realistic depiction of the sky. Walsh (1991) on the other hand denies almost any realism in the painting of the clouds because cloud forms were distorted to facilitate the painter’s motive for the picture composition, and furthermore, he claims certain types of clouds which are typical for Holland do not appear in the paintings.(2)

Therefore the question arises whether or not the clouds of the Dutch masters represent meteorological reality. Climatologically speaking an additional question that arises is if “the weather” in Holland of the 17th century is comparable with the weather in present day Holland. This is because in the middle of the 16th century a phase of cooling began which ended just in the 1850s (Flohn 1993). This “Little Ice Age” did not consist of entirely bad weather. However, a measurable decrease in average temperature during this time has been determined, winters were much colder, water surfaces froze for a longer time. But this climate, though much cooler than today, did not lead to a fundamentally different appearance of cloud patterns. The painters of the Golden Age saw the same clouds as we see them today.

Looked at in relation to the climatic changes, it is only understandable that as a society made up of sailors, dike-builders and farmers, the Dutch used weather as a central theme for their cultural artistic expression.

Production of Linen at Haarlem

The bleaching of linen plays a central role in the Haarlem paintings by Ruisdael. During the 17th century Haarlem was famous for its linen and in the city’s direct vicinity were several bleaching grounds that make prominent image contributions to most of the Haarlempjes.

Meteorological conditions in Holland were favourable for linen bleaching. In the linen lawn bleaching process the cloth was treated with lye and rinse water and was exposed to the sun and air on large grass fields. The bleaching of a piece of material took five to seven months, depending on weather conditions. The “Dutch Bleaching” bleaching process took place with soap, willow ash, and buttermilk; among other ingredients. Throughout the entire process a proper balance between the moisture content of the cloth, the use of bleaching materials, the rinsing with clear water and again drying was important in combination with exposure to the sun. (Stone-Ferrier 1985, p. 419)

The ideal geological conditions of Haarlem for the production of linen can clearly be recognised in the paintings of Ruisdael: at the base of the dunes damp meadows and small ponds formed by natural springs or ground water can be seen. Stone-Ferrier (op. cit.) indicated the important role of the chemical composition of the water near Haarlem. As long as the linen has to be kept humid, the wet meadows of Haarlem were ideal; for drying, the material could be easily brought to the sandy dunes. Here, the precipitation seeps away quickly, so the ground is nearly dry. When the sun shines the sandy dunes also warm more quickly than the meadows at their bases. Moreover, the dunes are exposed to stronger winds, accelerating the drying of the linen. Therefore, the wooden structures to dry the linen were found, on the sandy part of a dune which adequately was called “droogberg” (i.e. “drying mound”, Biesboer 1995).

However, if the linen bleaching in the paintings would only be interpreted as an element of composition the iconographic meaning of linen and bleaching would be suppressed (Michalski 1992). This noteworthy aspect is, however, excluded from the discussion at hand.

Fig. 1: Jacob van Ruisdael, Haarlem seen from the Dunes near Overveen, (canvas, 52x65 cm, c. 1670, SMB, Painting Gallery Berlin, Cat.Nr. 885C, Photo: J.P. Anders

The Berlin painting

In the 1670 Haarlempje of Berlin, Jacob van Ruisdael portrays his hometown as seen from the dunes near the village of Overveen, northwest of the city. The view is toward the southeast with the St. Bavo church in the centre and the red roofs of the city shining in the sun. The sky is filled with towering clouds, some thin feather clouds can be seen near the southeastern horizon, and single flat midlevel clouds float in the sky. In the centre of the painting, a vast cumulus cloud is situated over the city of Haarlem like a crown. The sun is positioned almost exactly in the west as can be concluded from the shadows and the illumination of St. Bavo church, thus indicating late afternoon. The sails of the windmills are directed to the northwest into the wind. On the meadows near the dunes the linen makers have spread out their canvas for bleaching and periodically spray water on their textiles. The humidity of the meadow additionally helps in smoothing and bleaching the cloth.

Meteorologically this scene can be explained as follows: in the course of the night a cold front passed over Holland from the northwest with showers and thunderstorms pushing away an advancing warm air mass. Near the rear of the front some cirrus clouds as well as a few midlevel altocumuli can be observed. The fresh maritime polar air mass will soon come under further high pressure, but here, close to the cold front, the air is still unstable enough to create medium and tall cumulus clouds. Now, in the late afternoon, some of these clouds have already decayed and their remnants can be seen at the upper rim of the painting. The wind direction has changed from southwest to northwest as two of the seven windmills have their sails still facing to southwest while the other, active mills have turned their sails into the now prevailing wind direction.

The weather situation is characterised by a low pressure zone over southern Scandinavia that brings fresh maritime air from northwest (Fig.2). The cold front of this low has already passed over Holland and has moved further east; a high with its centre over Ireland supports this air mass flow. The pressure gradient is not too high, otherwise such a weather pattern would cause strong wind. In the rear of the cold front a high pressure ridge builds up. Thus, over Holland, the weather of an early summer can develop which is depicted in the painting. Fig. 3 shows cumulus clouds with a thin veil of feather clouds near the horizon; the photo was taken in such a weather situation.

Fig. 2 (left): A low over Scandinavia causes a flow of fresh maritime air from northwest in Holland (Graphics: F. Ossing/O. Grabe, GFZ) Fig. 3 (right): Cumulus and cirrus clouds in northwesterly wind, Aug. 16, 1981, Enkhuizen/NL, 14:20 CET (Photo: F. Ossing, GFZ)

The situation in the painting fits coherently into the depicted meteorological pattern. Pieces of linen are exposed to the ultraviolet radiation of the sun for bleaching. This kind of radiation is strong in a blue sky, which in turn shimmers through from in between the clouds in Ruisdael’s painting. The weather is perfect for keeping the linen humid because the soil is wet from the rain that fell with the passage of the cold front. Showers developing in this weather from the larger cumulus clouds are not too heavy so that this meteorological process supports the fact that the women in white may attend to their work.

The Zurich Painting

The Haarlempje of the “Kunsthaus” Zurich is based on a completely different weather situation.

Formally, the painting’s structure is very similar to the Berlin painting. Painted between 1670 and 1675, the vertical format once more shows Haarlem seen from northwest, directed southeast and again long stretches of linen are spread out on the humid lawns and women are busy with the bleaching work (Fig. 4).

The sky again covers more than two thirds of the painting, with cumulus clouds towering high. In the cloud gaps one can detect some high level clouds.

The sun’s position is a bit higher than in the Berlin Haarlempje. Here again, the time is afternoon as the St. Bavo church can serve as a sundial.

The wind direction, however, has turned by 180°; most of the windmill sails are directed to southeast into the wind. The cumulus clouds, above all the dominating cloud in the centre and the cloud at the left rim of the picture, are tilted slightly to the right, i.e. to the west which indicates an increase of wind speed with height (wind shear). This is in accordance with the assumed wind direction from southeast.

Fig. 4: Jacob van Ruisdael, View of Haarlem with Bleaching Grounds (canvas, 62x55 cm, c. 1670/75, Kunsthaus Zürich, Ruzicka-Stiftung, Inv.Nr. R32)

Low level wind from an easterly direction in our latitude usually is connected with high pressure over northern Central Europe. High pressure zones are areas with a stable vertical stratification in which high-towering convective clouds like the cumulus in the Zurich painting are rarely found. Therefore it can be asked if Ruisdael has composed a sky into the painting that fits to the picture situation, in particular to bleaching.

Powerful cumulus clouds mostly appear in connection with low pressure zones because in these the vertical stratification of the atmosphere is sufficiently unstable. In mid-latitudes lows move from west to east in a westerly flow and have westerly wind directions. But in the Zurich painting we deal with low wind speed from southeast and well developed cumulus clouds.

This type of weather can be explained with a low over Ireland/South England that has reached the mature stage. A shallow high-level low with a weak surface-level low causes only a small pressure gradient. In Holland wind is from southeast in unstable cold air (Fig. 5) with low wind speeds and convective clouds. An occluded cold front is found along a line of approx. Hamburg-Aberdeen and turns in into the direction of Ireland.

Fig. 5 (left): An occluded low over South England causes southwesterly wind over Holland (Graphic: F. Ossing/ O. Grabe, GFZ) / Fig. 6 (right): Strong Cumulus clouds in unstable cold air (Mingerode, Mai 23, 1974, ca. 18:00 CET, Photo: F. Ossing, GFZ)

In summary it can be established that although the two Haarlem paintings of Ruisdael in Berlin and Zurich formally have a great deal in common they portray two completely different meteorological situations. In both cases however it can be shown that they depict a typical European weather situation with a high degree of accuracy.

Painted clouds

Using the example of Ruisdael’s ‘Winter Landscape’ (c. 1670, Philadelphia Museum of Arts), John Constable already in 1836 showed in his lectures on landscape painting, that from Ruisdael’s painting a real weather situation can be deduced (Badt 1960, Gedzelman 1991). Much more recently the masters of the Golden Age have seen an increased following from climatologists due to the current climatic change (Negendank et al. 2001, Flohn 1993). In 1982 Lamb indicated the influence of the Little Ice Age on the socio-economic development of Holland and the art closely connected to it (Lamb 1987).

Keeping in mind the meteorological exactness of Dutch masters, it is astounding that there has been such a long lasting discussion about the realism of Dutch landscape painting. Despite of the extensive debate, there is very little material with meteorological validity, which can found in art history literature dealing with this.

The statement that the skies in Dutch landscape painting do not give a complete picture of weather needs to be differentiated. First, one has to agree with Rostworowski (op. cit.): the painted skies of the Dutch masters show all the ten main cloud types of the WMO catalogue, though with different weightings. On the other hand it has to be claimed that the phenomenon “cloud” is not depicted in its meteorological completeness (Ossing 2001).

Walsh (1991) expresses the opinion that the most common kinds of Dutch weather consist of a heavy deck of clouds, intermittent drizzle and heavy rain, and a veil of fog which hardly appear in paintings. A meteorological view on the paintings, however, shows an incredible variety of different weather elements that are typical for mid-latitudes. A wide span of weather is well employed by Dutch painters in their landscape pictures, even though different types of weather appear more rarely, others more often.

The sky is included consciously by the painters to create a specific mood much like this was ordered by the contemporary “schilderboeken” (i.e. painting instructions). Without the sky a landscape painting would be poor of expression, the sky is “the soul of all scenery” (S.D.Gedzelman, n.i.).

Leaving behind the babble of the plaza, I enter the Library. I feel, almost physically, the gravitation of the books, the enveloping serenity of order, time magically dessicated and preserved. Left and right, absorbed in their shining dreams, the readers’ momentary profiles are sketched by the light of their officious lamps, to use Milton’s hypallage. I remember having remembered that figure before in this place, and afterwards that other epithet that also defines these environs, the arid camel of the Lunario, and then that hexameter from the Aeneid that uses the same artifice and surpasses artifice itself:

Ibant obscuri sola sub nocte per umbras.

These reflections bring me to the door of your office. I go in; we exchange a few words, conventional and cordial, and I give you this book. If I am not mistaken, you were not disinclined to me, Lugones, and you would have liked to like some piece of my work. That never happened; but this time you turn the pages and read approvingly a verse here and there— perhaps because you have recognized your own voice in it, perhaps because deficient practice concerns you less than solid theory.

At this point my dream dissolves, like water in water. The vast library that surrounds me is on Mexico Street, not on Rodríguez Peña, and you, Lugones, died early in ‘38. My vanity and nostalgia have set up an impossible scene. Perhaps so (I tell myself), but tomorrow I too will have died, and our times will intermingle and chronology will be lost in a sphere of symbols. And then in some way it will be right to claim that I have brought you this book, and that you have accepted it.

J.L.B.

Buenos Aires, August 9, 1960

Los rumores de la plaza quedan atrás y entro en la Biblioteca. De una manera casi física siento la gravitación de los libros, el ámbito sereno de un orden, el tiempo disecado y conservado mágicamente. A izquierda y a derecha, absortos en su lúcido sueño, se perfilan los rostros momentáneos de los lectores, a la luz de las lámparas estudiosas, como en la hipálage de Milton. Recuerdo haber recordado ya esa figura, en este lugar, y después aquel otro epíteto que también define por el contorno, el árido camello del Lunario, y después aquel hexámetro de la Eneida, que maneja y supera el mismo artificio:

Ibant obscuri sola sub nocte per umbram.

Estas reflexiones me dejan en la puerta de su despacho. Entro; cambiamos unas cuantas convencionales y cordiales palabras y le doy este libro. Si no me engaño, usted no me malquería, Lugones, y le hubiera gustado que le gustara algún trabajo mío. Ello no ocurrió nunca, pero esta vez usted vuelve las páginas y lee con aprobación algún verso, acaso porque en él ha reconocido su propia voz, acaso porque la práctica deficiente le importa menos que la sana teoría.

En este punto se deshace mi sueño, como el agua en el agua. La vasta biblioteca que me rodea está en la calle México, no en la calle Rodríguez Peña, y usted, Lugones, se mató a principios del treinta y ocho. Mi vanidad y mi nostalgia han armado una escena imposible. Así será (me digo) pero mañana yo también habré muerto y se confundirán nuestros tiempos y la cronología se perderá en un orbe de símbolos y de algún modo será justo afirmar que yo le he traído este libro y que usted lo ha aceptado.

J.L.B.

Buenos Aires, 9 de agosto de 1960

The mascletá is a (mostly) daytime firework show consisting on rythmic sound explosions. It is based in the use of the so-called ‘masclet’ (a kind of powerful firecracker), whose explosion receives the name of ‘thunder’. The word’s etimology lies in the Valencian word for ‘male’. It is probably related to the loudness of the sound, what was considered masculine, and to the fact that these fireworks explosions were dedicated exclusively to holy men; whereas celebrations for holy women had a lighter, more feminine character. The origin of the mascletá lies probably in the purifying character of black powder, to scare evil spirits. Today, mascletás are common in weddings and other celebrations.

The mascletá is a very austere show, it has no colours or shapes to decorate, it is based on the beauty of the pure explosion. It normally lasts for 5 to 10 minutes and follows a strict order. In this sense, we can consider them authentic symphonies of noise.

Schedule of a mascletá, as proposed on the book 'Pirotecnia en Valencia' of Ferriols, Pagola and Solá

For the mascletá, the masclets are connected by a thread structure at about 2,5 meters height. The mascletá seeks rythm and growing intensity, combining ground and air explosions, and has its summit with a deafening ground explosion called ‘earthquake’ and an explosion in the air called ‘bombardment’. The mascletá ends with the ’signature’.

Mascletá at the city hall square of Valencia, March 13, 2009 (photo Laura d'Ors)

In March, during the Fallas celebrations of Valencia, the public can enjoy big mascletás in the city hall square. These overwhelming mascletás are held daily at 14.00h by a different pyrotechnic and increase their intensity as days pass by. This video courtesy of Freakpyromaniacs (7′31”) shows the mascletá by well-known pyrotechnist Ricardo Caballer that took place on March 19, St Joseph’s Day, last day of the Fallas 2009. Because of its filming angle, it allows to see very well all phases of the mascletá. Definitely worth watching till the end, to understand the magnitude of this traditional celebration and share the mascletá’s intense emotion that lets visitors speechless, and often highly addicted.

Nor even now am I awake
Since such thoughts my memory fill,
That it seems I’m dreaming still:
Nor is this a great mistake;

Since if dreams could phantoms make
Things of actual substance seen,
I things seen may phantoms deem.
Thus a double harvest reaping,
I can see when I am sleeping,
And when waking I can dream.

Ni aun agora he despertado;
que según, Clotaldo, entiendo,
todavía estoy durmiendo,
y no estoy muy engañado;
porque si ha sido soñado
lo que vi palpable y cierto,
lo que veo será incierto;
y no es mucho que, rendido,
pues veo estando dormido,
que sueñe estando despierto.

I paced up and down my room from early morning until twilight. The window was open, it was a warm day. The noises of the narrow street beat in uninterruptedly. By now I knew every trifle in the room from having looked at it in the course of my pacing up and down. My eyes had traveled over every wall. I had pursued the pattern of the rug to its last convolution, noted every mark of age it bore. My fingers had spanned the table across the middle many times. I had already bared my teeth repeatedly at the picture of the landlady’s dead husband.

Towards evening I walked over to the window and sat down on the low sill. Then, for the first time not moving restlessly about, I happened calmly to glance into the interior of the room and at the ceiling. And finally, finally, unless I were mistaken, this room which I had so violently upset began to stir. The tremor began at the edges of the thinly plastered white ceiling. Little pieces of plaster broke off and with a distinct thud fell here and there, as if at random, to the floor. I held out my hand and some plaster fell into it too; in my excitement I threw it over my head into the street without troubling to turn around. The cracks in the ceiling made no pattern yet, but it was already possible somehow to imagine one.  But I put these games aside when a bluish violet began to mix with the white; it spread straight out from the center of the ceiling, which itself remained white, even radiantly white, where the shabby electric lamp was stuck. Wave after wave of the color —or was it a light?— spread out towards the now darkening edges. One no longer paid any attention to the plaster that was falling away as if under the pressure of a skillfully applied tool. Yellow and golden-yellow colors now penetrated the violet from the side. But the ceiling did not really take on these different hues; the colors merely made it somewhat transparent; things striving to break through seemed to be hovering above it, already one could almost see the outlines of a movement there, an arm was thrust out, a silver sword swung to and fro. It was meant for me, there was no doubt of that; a vision intended for my liberation was being prepared.

I sprang up on the table to make everything ready, tore out the electric light together with its brass fixture and hurled it to the floor, then jumped down and pushed the table from the middle of the room to the wall. That which was striving to appear could drop down unhindered on the carpet and announce to me whatever it had to announce. I had barely finished when the ceiling did in fact break open.  In the dim light, still at a great height, I had judged it badly, an angel in bluish-violet robes girt with gold cords sank slowly down on great white silken-shining wings, the sword in its raised arm thrust out horizontally. “An angel, then!” I thought; “it has been flying towards me all the day and in my disbelief I did not know it. Now it will speak to me.” I lowered my eyes. When I raised them again the angel was still there, it is true, hanging rather far off under the ceiling (which had closed again), but it was no living angel, only a painted wooden figurehead off the prow of some ship, one of the kind that hangs from the ceiling in sailors’ taverns, nothing more.

The hilt of the sword was made in such a way as to hold candles and catch the dripping tallow. I had pulled the electric light down; I didn’t want to remain in the dark, there was still one candle left, so I got up on a chair, stuck the candle into the hilt of the sword, lit it, and then sat late into the night under the angel’s faint flame.

The Blur building was built by New York-based architects Diller and Scofidio on Lake Neuchâtel at Yverdon-les-Bains, Switzerland on occasion of the Swiss Expo 2002. The Blur building uses various forms of water –mist, dew, fog and drinking water– as the substance of its architecture. Water is pumped from the lake, filtered and shot as mist.

The public can approach Blur via a bridge. Visual and acoustical references are erased along the journey. Prior to entering the cloud, each visitor responds to a questionnaire and receives a ’smart raincoat’. The coat is used as protection from the wet environment and storage of the personality data for communication with the cloud’s computer network. Using tracking and location technologies, each visitor’s position can be identified and their character profiles compared to any other visitor.

Diller and Scofidio define Blur as ‘decidedly low-definition’. Inside Blur there is nothing to see but our dependence on vision itself. ‘The building is formless, featureless, depthless, scaless, massless, surfaceless and dimensionless. Movement within is unregulated’.

During the final ascent the public walks through the cloud towards the open sky. There, visitors enjoy the view, and can choose from a large selection of commercial waters, municipal waters from world capitals, and glacial waters. Visitors can drink the building, too.

© Diller and Scofidio, Blur building (2002)

© Diller and Scofidio, Blur building (2002)

© Diller and Scofidio, Blur building (2002)