Birth of a Ghost

I had never really dabbled in computer animation before, but I recently discovered Synfig, a free, open source animation program. It's a lot of fun to play with.

The first animation I created on Synfig was a very simple 8-second animation of a ball dropping on the floor and morphing into a ghost. I spent the better part of a rainy Saturday morning learning how to make Synfig do my bidding, and the remainder of the morning watching Birth of a Ghost on loop (yes, I am easily amused).

My introduction to animation was by way of flipbooks. In 1996, when the cricket World Cup was held in the Indian subcontinent, you could exchange Coke bottle-caps for cricket merchandise. My friends were into collecting trading-cards. I was by no means indifferent to trading-cards, but I saved my bottle-caps till I had enough for a flipbook, which had Saeed Anwar majestically lifting some hapless spinner over long-on.

I knew in theory how TVs worked, and I had seen a zoetrope at BITM, but until I beheld a flipbook, I don't think I had truly comprehended how a rapid display of still images can create an illusion of movement. I also realised – and this was even more interesting – that I could make my own flipbooks. But after a few months of doodling in the corner of notebook pages, I thought I had gotten over my flipbook phase.

Except I hadn't, really. My Synfig experiments got me thinking about flipbooks again, and one day during my lunch-break, I seized on a wad of post-it notes which was on my desk and re-created Birth of a Ghost on flipbook.

Here are both videos, for comparison:

Birth of a Ghost (Synfig) (0:08)

Birth of a Ghost (flipbook) (0:04)

If you want a hand-drawn flipbook, send me an email. I can make one and post it to you.

Isle of Dogs Cat

As Ethan Zuckerman said in a 2008 lecture: "Web 1.0 was invented to allow physicists to share research papers. Web 2.0 was created to allow people to share pictures of cute cats."

Photos on this blog of Isle of Dogs fauna have featured foxes and of course, dogs, but so far ‒ no cats. This is about to be remedied. Here is a cat, spotted on Saturday en route to the supermarket.

Shortly after spotting the cat, I discovered that Mudchute Farm, which is also on my way to the supermarket, has three llamas. This made my day.

If, as is not unlikely, Web 3.0 is created to allow people to share pictures of llamas, my llama photo will get its place in the sun.

Last Frame

It's an odd skill to boast of, but I'm fairly good at loading film into a camera. I can load film quickly and efficiently, while standing in a crowded train, or in the middle of other distractions. But most importantly, by pulling very little film ‒ the bare minimum ‒ out of the cassette, I can get the film leader to engage in the take-up spool.

This may not sound like much, but if you pull less film out of the cassette, you can often get 38 or even 39 exposures out of a 36-exposure roll. I like this, because it feels like getting more than my money's worth, like squeezing the last smidgen of toothpaste out of a tube.

After the 36th shot, I expect the film to run out. When it doesn't, it's always a pleasant surprise, and though I'm generally quite economical when shooting film, for the last frame I feel like I can fire off a shot without worrying too much about the end result, because it's free.

Often, the last frame is the best.

This photo was taken in Greenwich Park in London. I like the patterns made by the snow and the branches, and the woman playing with her dog on the hillside. It was the last exposure on the roll, and the last of the dying light. I thought it was the last snow of the season too, but it snowed again this weekend, proving that my spring post was premature.

Shunbun no Hi: Corporate Post-It Haiku 2

Kitchen Gifts

Two recent additions to our kitchen from my last trip to India ‒ both gifts from my grandparents.

The pickle is home-made by my grandmother. She makes various kinds, and stores them in Horlicks jars lined up on windowsills. The stuffed chilli pickle (in picture) is my favourite, though it's not for the faint of heart.

My grandfather bought me the mortar and pestle; he went to the store with a magnet in his pocket so that he wouldn't be cheated. We used to grind spices with the underside of an empty coffee jar, so the mortar and pestle is a definite step up. Some day we may go so far as to get an electronic food processor.

Let Your Soul Delight Itself in Fatness

Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? ... hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.

Isaiah 55:2

"Let your soul delight in fatness" is excellent advice which I have, knowingly or unknowingly, been following since early childhood. But of late I have rarely been spending money for that which is bread, because we discovered that baking bread at home is immensely rewarding, and the ingredients required ‒ flour, commercial yeast, salt and lukewarm water ‒ are virtually costless.

We've baked only twice so far, but I love the whole process ‒ the precise measurements, the kneading, gluten on my fingers, the yeast frenziedly feeding on sugar molecules, the physics, chemistry and biology, the miracle of the first rise, the punch down, the second rise, shaping the loaf, scoring the dough, oven spring, the hollow-sound doneness test, the smell of freshly-baked bread from the oven.

Here is a photo of a Sunday brunch with home-baked bread, but also some other things. For it is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but also by cheese (preferably of more than one variety) and tomato soup.

The knife in the photo is the Serrated Knife ‒ one of two knives in our kitchen. The other knife is the smooth-edged Champion Knife, so called because it's sharper and therefore used a lot more. But it turns out that serrated knives ‒ even not-so-sharp ones ‒ work really well on bread. I was thrilled to discover that the Serrated Knife has its uses after all. "The best thing before sliced bread," Anasua called it.

Calcutta, 6:38 am

Our apartment building in Calcutta has a chilchhad, a word which for I don't think there is an English equivalent. It refers to a supra-roof – a raised section higher than the main roof, e.g. the top of a rooftop room.

There are no stairs to our chilchhad; it is accessible only by clambering up a wall. As far as I am aware, no one else goes up to the chilchhad, and once on it, you are higher than the neighbouring windows and rooftops. It has always been my favourite feature of the building.

Among other things, it is good for taking photos of the sunrise.

In a complete volte-face from my earlier stance, The World According to Sroyon will henceforth use straight quotes and not curly quotes (unusually keen-eyed readers may have remarked on the straight-quote don't in the first sentence). I have been thinking about this for a while now, and I have concluded that the curly quotes in Verdana, currently my default font, are just too unsightly. Curly-quote lovers who wish to complain to the management are kindly directed to the comments section.

Dream Tricycle

I got to work early this morning, so once I had finished filing yesterday’s emails and making my to-do list for the day, it was doodle-time.

2 months and 13 days ago, I had a (very pleasant) dream involving a curious vehicle – an old-fashioned penny-farthing, but with two rear wheels. Passengers could stand on the rear axle, but had to backpedal constantly, as one does on a rolling log, to avoid falling off.

My work notebook is filled with sketches of this contraption drawn from various angles, some more detailed than others. Here is a sample.

The black cat did not feature in the dream, and is in the drawing only to show scale.