Figure 1 – Reproduction Bezzera Eagle. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

I’d like to follow-up on my recent post about gumball machines. There is something aesthetically wonderful about shiny machines, especially when, like gumball dispensers, they yield up a delicious treat. What is a greater treat than a diminutive shot of espresso? It is the distillation of wonderfulness, the nectar and ambrosia of modern times.  The other evening I was leaving a favorite bakery, when I found discarded on the floor this wonderful antique looking espresso maker. I have done some research on it and I believe that it is, in fact, a reproduction – still available – of the Bezzera Eagle Dome. It is a faithful replica of machines produced by Bezzera during the “belle epoch,” although it does not have an eagle on top. My espresso tastes better already with such a pedigree.

The modern espresso machine appears to have been invented by Italian Angelo Moriondo, who in 1884 patented a steam-driven “instantaneous” coffee beverage making device, In 1901 Luigi Bezzera patented an improved espresso machine. This machine was exhibit at the 1906 Milan International Fair, and Bezzera has proudly and passionately pursued the ideal brew for 115 years. As I am very fond of saying: “Un doppio espresso, per favore!“

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 91 mm, ISO 800, Aperture Priority AE Mode, 1/50th sec. at f/5.6 with no esposure compensation.

Figure 1 – Gumball machine. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

We have spoken before about the role of photography as a recorder of the obsolete – as an archivist, if you will. Recently at the local mall the candy shop closed. This was one of those candy shops where children would load up plastic bags with individual candies – break the teeth and beak the bank. Shortly after the closing, I noticed these gumball machines appearing at strategic locations. Gumball machines were part of my youth. They hanker to New York City Subway vending machines for penny candies – part of the treat of a subway ride for children of the day.

According to the Wikipedia, itself out to obsolete the print encylopedia, vending machines for stick or block shaped gum as early as 1888, but the first machines to carry actual gumballs were introduced in 1907 (probably released first by the Thomas Adams Gum Co). Well, the candy is no longer a penny. They are now a quarter, as the label proclaims. Therein lies their ultimate demise. The price of candy goes up. The use of physical money, and among money of coinage, goes down. A gumball machine is a purely mechanical thing. Unless the government issues a dollar coin, which is unlikely, they will soon be, well, gone with the wind. A chrome sphere filled with luscious gum balls with a protruding electronic credit card reader is a sacrilege.

So I paused a moment the other day to take the photograph of Figure 1. It shows a soon to be obsolete gumball machine in all its prismatic glory. I spent a few moments in reverent contemplation. While someone is still turning a profit, the days of such machines cannot be long.

Figure 1 – Marble wall, Natick, Massachusetts. IPhone photograph. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

I thought that I would go, or offer up, today an example of photominimalism. The Wikipedia defines “minimalism” in the visual arts and music as style that uses pared-down design elements. This paring down, I think, is key to its appeal. When you look at what might be called a “complex” photograph full of details, it is usually made or broken by fundamental design elements” the golden rule of thirds, sweeping curves, vertical or horizontal lines. But these can be hidden, buried in complexity, to be dug or teased out. Minimalism emphasizes these design elements. We are delighted by its simplicity.

So Figure 1 is an example of photominimalism. I am happiest when I can do it in black and white, which is, in and of itself, a minimalizing element. My eye delights in the curves, the tiles, the glossy texture the marble background contrasted with the matte black of the sweeping lines. For me there is a kind of meditative simplicity to it.

Figure 1- Lollipops.” IPhone photograph. (c) DE Wolf 2016.

Sometimes it’s just fun to take photographs, and that’s where the cell-phone comes in as a major source of entertainment. So today I want to offer up confectionery delight with Figure 1 – Lollipops. The word “lollipop” in and of itself is wonderful, especially when you onomatopoetically emphasize the syllable “pop,” as in “lol-lee-POP.”

I headed to the Wikipedia to learn about the world of lollipops, and the first thing that I found out is that the ones pictured in my photograph are referred to as “large, rainbow-swirl lollipops.” The first lollipops date back to medieval times when the nobility would eat boiled sugar with sticks as handles. The word ‘lollipop’ was first recorded by English lexicographer Francis Grose in 1796. The term may have derived from the word “lolly” (tongue) and “pop” (slap). The story gets confusing when it comes to lollies in the Americas. Many people believe that they were invented around the time of the US Civil War. George Smith claimed the invention of the modern style lollipop in 1908 and trademarked the lollipop name in 1931.

As for the lollipops of Figure 1. These are reminiscent to me of what were variously called, depending upon size, as “eight hour,”” twelve hour,” and “all day” suckers when I was a child. I, myself, could not make them last, as I was an “inevitable cruncher” of lollipops, indeed of all “sucking candies.” My grandmother referred to these as “hard candies” and always had a supply of “sour balls” on hand when my sister and I came over. Still there were those with the endurance to lick away for hours – and worse to store them by their bedsides overnight as their teeth and pancreata rotted away at a tender age. It is hard to recall, but I suspect that these were the same children who would disgustingly lick out the centers of their Oreo cookies.