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Tag: Sydney

Barcelona for the AIR

Saturday, 7 October, 2017 0 Comments

Vincent Laforet is a French-American director and photographer and one of the most influential people working in contemporary photography and film today. His AIR project is a collection of high-altitude aerial photographs taken over 10 of the world’s most iconic cities: Barcelona, Berlin, Chicago, Las Vegas, London, Los Angeles, Miami, New York, San Francisco and Sydney. This is Barcelona, the capital of Catalonia, with its arrays of perfectly honeycomb-like blocks.

Barcelona


The Daily Telegraph and the could/would jet

Friday, 29 January, 2016 0 Comments

Fancy flying from London to New York in 11 minutes? From New York to Sydney in half an hour? Read on. The Daily Telegraph delighted its readers earlier today when it greeted them with the headline “This private jet would get you from London to New York in 11 minutes.” Right at the get-go, Lauren Davidson tells us that “a seven-hour flight across the Atlantic can feel interminable,” which is very true, and then she delivers the good news: “But a new design for a luxury business jet could get you from London to New York in 11 minutes — and from New York to Sydney in half an hour. The Antipode is a 10-seater aircraft that would be able to travel at 12,427 miles per hour.”

This is all very exciting, but the presence of “could/would” there suggests that Telegraph readers won’t be able to avail of the service this weekend. And more “woulds” follow: “Charles Bombardier, the Canadian inventor, released a concept design last year for the Skreemr, a jet that would be able to fly at Mach 10. Travelling at 7,673 miles per hour, the 75-seater Skreemr would get from the UK to the east coast the US in around 30 minutes.”

Daily Telegraph news values We are into the seventh paragraph before Ms Davidson brings us back down to earth, so to speak: “However, Mr Bombardier confessed his concerns that materials ‘able to withstand the heat, pressure and structural stress’ of the aircraft had not yet been invented.” Whether she’s referring to the Antipode or the Skreemr in that sentence is unclear, however.

Although the Antipode aircraft has not yet been invented the Daily Telegraph seems to believe that this non-breaking story is homepage newsworthy. Why? Is there a shortage of “real” news? Is Charles Bombardier a friend of Sir David Rowat Barclay and Sir Frederick Hugh Barclay? The truth may be more mundane. Back on 16 January, Forbes ran a story titled “Exclusive: Fly From New York To Dubai In 22 Minutes On Board This Hypersonic Private Jet Concept.” Kristin Tablang’s article is far less sensational than Lauren Davidson’s one and it’s much better for that.


Gatsby: Sam Guo as James Gatz

Monday, 24 August, 2015 1 Comment

With his vast wealth, James Gatz purchased a lavish mansion on Long Island and proceeded to throw elaborate parties. Those who swam in the rivers of booze during those wild nights at West Egg didn’t know he was born James Gatz, however. To them, he was Jay Gatsby, a self-made millionaire. Likewise with Kui Zhang Guo, a Chinese businessman who bought a manor for $11.45 million in the upscale Hunters Hill area of Sydney last year. Gatsby He prefers to go by his anglicized name, Sam Guo, writes the Sydney Morning Herald, which begins its story about his fabulous parties thus: “His neighbours have already dubbed him the ‘Chinese Gatsby’, which judging by the largesse in the form of rivers of French champagne and no expense spared parties inside his lavish Hunters Hill mansion, would seem like a fitting nom de plume for Kui Zhang Guo.”

F. Scott Fitzgerald would have loved it. The Guo-Gatz symbolism is uncanny and with the Sydney Morning Herald reporting another awful day at the exchanges “as tanking Chinese sharemarkets wipe out the past two years of gains on the local bourse”, the scene is set, perfectly, for our annual reading of The Great Gatsby. Let’s kick off with a passage that reflects the thrill of the party on the edge of the abyss:

“The last swimmers have come in from the beach now and are dressing up-stairs; the cars from New York are parked five deep in the drive, and already the halls and salons and verandas are gaudy with primary colors, and hair shorn in strange new ways, and shawls beyond the dreams of Castile. The bar is in full swing, and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside, until the air is alive with chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other’s names.

The lights grow brighter as the earth lurches away from the sun, and now the orchestra is playing yellow cocktail music, and the opera of voices pitches a key higher. Laughter is easier minute by minute, spilled with prodigality, tipped out at a cheerful word.”

Tomorrow, here, a hot young writer on the enduring greatness of Gatsby.