Doubling the Double Bass

 

It's scary how some musicians
seem naturally created to play their instrument.
Their hands and physique have just the right form
to grapple with the many difficulties
of producing a musical sound.  

 

But occasionally an instrument of great size 

requires extra help
as no human is big enough
to meet its monstrous requirements.

Today I present one of the largest of musical instruments
the double bass 
and its very rare gigantic cousin
the Octobass. 
 

 

The name of this well-dressed gentleman standing with his double bass is unknown but his postcard has the marks of one printed in the United Kingdom so I think he is likely posed outside the stage door of some British theatre. I think his formal long black coat and bowtie date him to sometime between 1905 to 1915. His heavy dark eyes, long mustache, and large hands give him a rather menacing appearance only partly alleviated by the corsage in his lapel.

His instrument is a double bass, also called an upright bass, acoustic bass, bull or bass fiddle, contrabass, or usually just a bass. In an orchestra it is the largest and lowest-pitched of string instruments, played with a bow or plucked with the right hand. 

Double Bass C Extension
Source: The Internets

A standard full-size double bass is about 6 feet 3 inch (190 cm) not counting the end pin. but most players use a slightly smaller 3/4 size bass that is ½ inch less than 6 feet. The four strings of a bass are tuned to E1, A1, D2, and G2. However many players modify their instrument by adding an extension on the lower string which takes it down to C1, an octave below the lowest note on the cello. This allows a bass to easily double a cello part only pitched an octave lower.

In this closeup of a bass extension the top nut of the lower string is placed about 10-12 inches above its normal position just below the head.
It is made of wood with its own narrow finger board and has an auxiliary key mechanism for the player's left fingers which press down pads corresponding to the positions of the extra bass notes.

 

The sound of a double bass serves as the foundation of an orchestra string section. Its power is stronger than the other string instruments—violins, violas, cellos—so fewer players are needed to balance a section's dynamic range. A double bass is also regularly used in concert wind bands to add more sonic texture to woodwind and brass colors. To transport a bass, players may carry it on their back or attach a small wheel to the end pin. However that still does not make it a practical instrument for playing in a marching band.

Bass viola da gamba,
by Pieter Rombouts, 1726
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam
Source: Wikimedia

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In the earlier Renaissance or Baroque eras a bass viol de gamba or violone, similar to the double bass but with more strings and usually a fretted fingerboard, managed the bass voice
in musical ensembles. 

But beginning in the Classical era performers, composers, and instrument makers began searching for better string sounds. Like the violin, the viola, and the violoncello (cello), the double bass offered improvements that fulfilled a need for bigger bass. This inspired more composers of the Romantic era to write music for larger ensembles which, of course, required a larger performing space. 

In the early 19th century music instrument makers were developing grandiose ideas of bigger, louder, higher, and lower instruments. In Berlin the Prussian instrument maker Johann Gottfried Moritz ((1777–1840) invented a brass instrument with valves that he called a chromatic bass tuba. It was granted a patent in 1835. The Belgian inventor, Adolphe Sax (1814–1894) had a successful career in Paris creating entirely new categories of wind instruments like the saxhorn and the saxophone, each available in different sizes to cover a complete range of voices from soprano to bass. 

In the 1800s string instrument makers were mainly refining the standards of string instruments crafted during the late 17th and early 18th centuries by Italian makers like Antonio Stradivari. But one of them got caught up in the excitement for MORE BASS. His name was Jean-Baptiste Vuillaume (1798–1875) a French luthier working in Paris. In 1850 he built an instrument that measured 11 ft 5 in (3.48 m) in length, nearly twice the size of a double bass. It had only three strings but its enormous size required a special stand for the player to reach them and a key mechanism to change the pitches.

Vuillaume called it an Octobasse.

In this illustration captioned Fig. 117 — Octobasse de Vuillaume 
a forlorn player stands on a platform and saws away at an instrument so huge it dwarfs the man who is half its height. It is shaped like a member of the violin family but it looks absurdly oversized since there is a violinist and a cellist in the picture to provide a a sense of scale. A closer look shows how the player steps on foot pedals and controls levers with his left hand as he runs a bow over the three strings. 

As indicated in purple ink stramped on the back, this picture postcard was sold by Paul Frankenstein, Atelier for Photography and Photogravure at Mollardgasse 69 in Wien, Austria  There is also a message written in English but no date.

                            Dearest Dorthea.   Daddy really saw

                            this funny big violin in a library

                            in Vienna.
                            How are you — my cutey?   Are you a
                            good girl — and do you ever
                            practise the piano?
                            Love — hugs — squeezes — kisses
                                            Daddy & Mama 

The address for Paul Frankenstein, (I'm not making this up!) is a business location for the son of noted Viennese photographer Michael Frankenstein. This particular address seems to have begun in 1909 and continued until 1918.  It is just 1½ miles from the Kunsthistorisches Museum where one of the three Octobassi that Jean-Baptiste Vuillaume built is still extant. Only one other octobass by Vuillaume is preserved at the the Musée de la Musique in Paris. A third reproduction of his original Octobass is displayed at the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, Arizona. 

Vuillaume initially tuned his octobass to be an octave below a cello, but the string length allows it to be tuned even lower to the pitches C0, G0, D1. This is two octaves below the cello range, and one octave below the modern double bass with low C extension. Its C0 string vibrates at a frequency of about 16.35 Hz, which is even lower than a tuba or contrabassoon and below the hearing of most people. It's equivalent to a 32-foot pipe on an organ. It makes a fluttering sound that is more felt than heard. Imagine a Harley-Davidson motorcycle on low idle. Of course now that C pitch can be replicated by a synthesizer in different wave forms but it not a pitch that has much practical musical use. Of course in its time, that low pitch from a handcrafted wooden instrument would have seemed wonderous to anyone who heard it in a performance.  

I think it fair to say that the Octobass never became a popular instrument and didn't make Vuillaume wealthy from its patent. Size matters when you have to carry your instrument on a bus. The only known work which specifically calls for an octobass is French composer Charles Gounod's Messe solennelle de Sainte-Cécile of 1855. And then it is only played in two movements, the "Benedictus" and the "Agnus Dei". A few modern instrument makers have taken the challenge to build their own version of an octobass and one of these new instruments is owned by the Montreal Symphony Orchestra, the only orchestra that uses the instrument. Wikipedia provides us with a photo of it.

 

Eric Chappell of the Montreal Symphony Orchestra
playing the orchestra's octobass.
Source: Wikimedia

I can't provide a better explanation of the Octobass
than this YouTube video from
the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, Arizona
where Colin Pearson, a curator at the museum
demonstrates the Octobasse in its collection.

And this next video may be my favorite rendition
of a piper's tune familiar to everyone.
The double-bassist is Jonathan Camps
with Nicola Moneta on Octobass.
They performed this duet on 10 February 2018
at the Festival Mardi "Graves" in Saint Jean de Védas, France. 

And just for fun
here is short video from 

the YouTube channel - BEST MUSIC TOOLS
on how to tune the three strings of an Octobass.

Isn't YouTube amazing? 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where a rising tide lifts all boats
except those that weren't tied up
in a sailorly manner.

 

The Hidden Psyche of Great Men

 

A face is in profile
but is layered with other images.
It's a kind of photo portrait,
and yet there is more than meets the eye.

The person's features are recognizable
but within it is a fantastic specter
of other people and creatures.

Similar portraits are even odder
as if the collage was made
from too many unrelated things. 

Other portraits add a texture of drawings
almost like tattoos or transparent imagery
projected onto the face.

The artists trick the viewer into seeing an illusion
of more than just a picture of a famous person.
Their portraits also show symbols of their creations,
accomplishments, and ambitions.  

Today I present four examples of postcards from the 1900s
that used a composite metamorphic style of art
to celebrate famous people.

  

The first postcard is of German composer and conductor Richard Wagner (1813–1883) who is remembered for his many music dramas that transformed music and opera theater in the 19th century, notably for his four-part cycle: "Der Ring des Nibelungen" (The Ring of the Nibelung). Here his face appears in profile but his head is filled with characters from his operas. 

Visible in his "hair" are two swans which are birds that appear in Wagner's "Lohengrin". The central character, Lohengrin, a knight of the Holy Grail and son of Parsifal, travels in a boat drawn by white swan. The helmeted warrior woman in the upper portion holds a spear which connects to "Die Walküre" from the Ring Cycle. The sinuous female figures are the Rhine Maidens from "Das Rheingold" guarding the river gold. On the chin is a serpent figure which is the dragon Fafner from "Das Rheingold" or "Siegfried".   

Below the picture is a facsimile of Richard Wagner's signature and a four bar motif which is a bit of a puzzle that I have not solved. I think it's a phrase from Lohengrin but I haven't identified it yet. The tiny caption in the corner, "depose dans tous les pais" is a French trademark notice meaning "registered in all countries." Presumably this kind of art was produced in France. 

Richard Wagner (1813–1883)
Elliott & Fry studio, London, circa 1877
Source: Wikimedia

The best photo to match this illustration of Richard Wagner is a profile head shot taken at the Elliot & Fry studio in London in about 1877. The postcard was sent on 29 June 1909 from Meinersdorf, a small village in Saxony near Chemnitz. 

* * *

This second disembodied head might be unfamiliar as this man lived in the time before photography and his few portraits are paintings. The card's caption is a single word, a signature really:   Goethe.  

Most Germans in our time would recognize this name, if not the image, as Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832), considered Germany's greatest author and a polymath in many subjects. His works include plays, poetry, and aesthetic criticism, as well as scientific treatises on botany, anatomy, and color.  

The imagery that covers his visage includes a horse and rider who carries a child. This refers to Goethe's 1782 ballad poem "Erlkönig" which depicts the death of a child assailed by a supernatural being, the Erlkönig, a king of the fairies. Many composers set the poem to music, but the most famous is a song by Franz Schubert. 

The sylph-like beings in the upper hair refer to Goethe's major 2-part tragedy,  "Faust I & II". This tragic story is about a scholar, Faust, who makes a pact with the devil (Mephistopheles) for unlimited knowledge and experience. Faust is depicted on the left eye with Mephistopheles at his shoulder. His love interest is young Gretchen, who is drawn onto Goethe's nose. 

The two figures on the right eye and cheek are from another famous ballad of Goethe's,. "Der Fischer"~ "The Fisherman". Written in 1779, this song tells a tale of a water-maiden (mermaid) who rises from the Rhine, seducing a fisherman with her song and then pulling him into the water until he is never seen again.  

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)
1828 portrait by Joseph Karl Stieler (1781–1858)
Source: Wikimedia 

This painting of Goethe by Joseph Karl Stieler is perhaps the most well-known image of the writer and was likely used by the anonymous artist as a model for this metamorphose. This postcard has a postmark of 6 August 1909 from Marienbad, a renowned spa town in Austria which is now in the Czech Republic, and two more postmarks from Geneve and Lausanne. Switzerland. 

* * *

This next figure a bit more challenging, but clues are hidden in the man's white hat. Two very long airships and a balloon make up the cap and more blimps and balloons fill the face. A caption on the top reads: 

Unsere Zukunft liegt in der Luft. 
~
Our future lies in the air.

It is, of course, the great aviator of lighter-than-air flying machines, Graf~Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin (1838–1917). Regular readers should recognize his name if not his face and I have posted many stories on Graf Zeppelin's airships. In his time Zeppelin mastered the art of self-promotion as well as flight and his grandfatherly face made him a familiar luminary in German newspapers, magazines, and postcards, too.  

Graf von Zeppelin (1838–1917), circa 1911
Source: Wikimedia

This photo of Graf Zeppelin was likely taken around the time when his airships were achieving longer flight records and capturing the attention of the public in Germany and abroad. He seems to have adopted a type of ship captain's hat, one in white, like this one, and another in dark blue. It doesn't take much imagination to see balloons in his cheeks and mustache. 

This postcard was sent from Berlin on 28 May 1909. 

* * *

My final metamorphose postcard is possibly one of the most recognized public figures of his time as this man appeared in countless postcards. He is Wilhelm II (1859–1941), the last German Emperor (Deutscher Kaiser) from 1888 until his abdication in 1918. His face is almost tattooed with symbols of German nationalism. There are two imperial eagles, one grasps a map of Europe in its talons. A helmeted warrior wields a sword. A ship's captain, presumably Wilhelm, grapples with a ship's wheel, the chin, which has a motto: "Deutschland in der Welt Vor..."

Kaiser Wilhelm II (1859–1941)
1902 photo by Thomas Heinrich Voigt (1838–1896)
Source: Wikimedia

Wihelm may have been the most photographed head-of-state in his time. There seem to be an infinite number of him in many different uniforms, some not even German. This photo from 1902 captures an expression similar to that used for the metamorphose sketch. His determined face gazes slightly up and away, a kind of leadership pose that Wilhelm perfected. 

What made this metamorphose postcard more special though was the handwritten note on the back. 

5. VIII 1914
Zur Erinnerung
an die Mobilmachung
2 August
1914
~
For remembrance
on the mobilization
2 August 1914

Georg Elhing(?)

  

On 28 June 1914, Bosnian-Serb terrorists assassinated the heir presumptive to the imperial throne of Austria-Hungary, Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sophie, Duchess of Hohenberg. Their murder set off a chain of events which quickly escalated into a diplomatic crisis. Complicated treaties and secret agreements between major and minor powers in Europe triggered military plans. In July reserve soldiers were called up to join their companies and regiments ordered to move towards their nation's borders. On 2 August 1914 Kaiser Wilhelm gave the command for his armies to mobilize. It was the the first day of The Great War, what we now call World War One. Georg remembered that day with this postcard. 

Did Georg serve in the war? Did he survive? What meaning did Wilhelm's metamorphic imagery have in November 1918? We can only imagine.

The symbolism in these metamorphose portraits are not profound. They are novelty picture puzzles, clever illusions that asks us to find rhymes and reasons. They seem to have originated around 1909 which was also when Sigmund Freud's work began to gain significant recognition in 1908–1910, following the publication of his major works like "The Interpretation of Dreams" (1899/1900) and "Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality" (1905). As it turns out the psyche of great men can be pretty ordinary and not all that interesting.

I have more metamorphose postcards
like this of other famous men 
and will feature them in a future story. 

I'll finish with a performance 
of Franz Schubert's setting of Goethe's Der Erlkönig.
The singer is the German baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau
accompanied by the English pianist Gerald Moore.
No one does it better than this.

Verse 1: 

Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er fasst ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.
 

Translation:

Who rides, so late, through night and wind?
It is a father with his child.
He has the boy well in his arm
He holds him safely, he keeps him warm.

Verse 2:

"Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?"
"Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?
Den Erlenkönig mit Kron' und Schweif?"
"Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif."
 

Translation:

"My son, why do you hide your face in fear?"
"Father, do you not see the Erlking?
The Erlking with crown and tail?"
"My son, it is a streak of fog."

Verse 3:

"Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele spiel' ich mit dir;
Manch' bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand."
 

Translation:

"You dear child, come, go with me!
Very lovely games I'll play with you;
Some colorful flowers are on the beach,
My mother has some golden robes."

Verse 4:

"Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?"
"Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;
In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind."
 

Translation:

"My father, my father, and do you not hear
What Erlking quietly promises me?"
"Be calm, stay calm, my child;
The wind is rustling through dry leaves."

Verse 5:

"Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?
Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön;
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein,
Sie wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein."
 

Translation:

"Do you, fine boy, want to go with me?
My daughters shall wait on you finely;
My daughters lead the nightly dance,
And rock and dance and sing you to sleep,
They rock and dance and sing you to sleep."

Verse 6:

"Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort
Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort?"
"Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh' es genau:
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau."
 

Translation:

"My father, my father, and don't you see there
Erlking's daughters in the gloomy place?"
"My son, my son, I see it clearly:
There shimmer the old willows so grey."

Verse 7:

"Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt;
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch' ich Gewalt."
"Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt fasst er mich an!
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan!"
 

Translation:

"I love you, your beautiful form excites me;
And if you're not willing, then I will use force."
"My father, my father, he's touching me now!
Erlking has done me harm!"

Verse 8:

Dem Vater grauset's, er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Müh' und Not;
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.
 

Translation:

It horrifies the father, he swiftly rides on,
He holds the groaning child in his arms,
Reaches the farm with great difficulty;
In his arms, the child was dead.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where someone is always watching.

The Ghost Bride of Chislehurst

 On one side
stood the bride's cousins
and a great aunt.

Next to them
were her father and grandmother 

and two sisters for support.

The other side was less populated
with just the groom's two sisters
and his best man.  

And in the center stood the dashing groom
in his posh tailcoat and top hat. 

And holding his arm,
was his bride,
freakishly concealed
beneath a veil of white gauze.  

It was her special day in 1903,

the mysterious ghost bride of Chislehurst.

This large 8" x 6" photo of a wedding party was taken in 1903 by Mr. G. Cooling of Chislehurst, a suburban district of south-east London, England, in the Borough of Bromley. The photo is neatly annotated by, I believe, a child of the woman to the right of the bride who is labeled "Mother". The bride is "Aunt Hadie" and the groom "Uncle Albert" adding another line of kinship. At the groom's side on the left are his two sisters, "Aunt Edie and Aunt Alice". The other young man is unnamed but he is likely either Albert's best man, or maybe a beau of Edie. 

On the bride's side are her sisters "Mother" and "Aunt Mag." along with "Grandad" in a top hat and "Gran" in a dark, maybe black, dress. However I think there is a large age difference between this couple since the man rests his hand on her shoulder in a symbolic gesture of relationship, so I believe he is her son. Of course as child of the bride's sister the writer would know the bride's father as "grandad" and his mother as "gran." The other six women on the bride's side could be friends and neighbors but they look more like family members to me. The older woman on the far right wearing a fur stole bears a blurry resemblance to "gran" so I think she is a grand aunt to Hadie. Sadly the writer left out any surnames so all family bonds are left to our imagination. 

Mr. Cooling had a good camera to judge by the crisp focus of this group shot but somehow he misunderstood the effect of sunlight on the bride's veil. Her  ghostly quality is also odd as there is a hard edge on the veil's shape that looks artificial, as if the photographer deliberately altered the contrast to bleach her features. It's the reason I purchased this photo because the ghost bride of Chislehurst offers a lot of potential for a story. 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where time never ge               

                                             ts in the way.

Flying High in Iowa

 

At first glance people might have
mistaken it for a giant box kite.
But this contraption could change direction
and move as easily into the wind as with it.

It also soared up and down 
almost like a bird
though it wings did not flap
and its engine was noisier than a flock of geese.

It was the new era of flying machines.
Some zipped across the sky like a hawk.
Others drifted along as sedately as a cloud.

Aeroplanes and airships
seemed to be everywhere now.
Not just in France, or Germany, or England,

but even in Iowa. 

A biplane flying above State Street in Blakesburg, Iowa did not seem to attract much attention from its townsfolk. You'd think people would wave or point. Maybe they were concerned about distracting the pilot as takeoff and landing an aeroplane on such a muddy unpaved road must have been pretty challenging. He appears to be sharply ascending perhaps to avoid the telephone and electric wires. 

Blakesburg is a town in Wapello County in southeast Iowa. In 1910 it had 344 citizens while its current population was 274 at the 2020 census. 

This dramatic picture of an aeroplane was published as a "Real Photo" by the Des Moines Post Card Co. of Des Moines, Iowa. In the 1910s the company's photographer documented quite an impressive number of flying machines over other parts of the state. 

By coincidence, just north of Blakesburg is the Airpower Museum, a 20,000-square-foot (1,900 m2) aviation museum founded in 1965 by Robert L. Taylor and the Antique Airplane Association. It has approximately 25 vintage aircraft on display and features a collection of aviation models, engines, propellers, photos and original art including some fighter planes from World War II.

In this next postcard another aeroplane very similar to the one over Blakesburg is making a dive over the entrance to the U. S. Fish Hatchery at Manchester, Iowa. You'd think this would startle the fish to jump out of the ponds. But unless that pilot pulls up quickly he will be startled too and  find himself hung in the trees around the hatchery.

Manchester is a city about 150 miles northeast of Blakesburg and 45 miles west of Dubuque, Iowa. In 1910 its population was 2,758 and 110 years later can boast of 5,065 residents. The Manchester Fish Hatchery is situated 4 miles southeast of Manchester and was first stocked with fish in the 1890s when it was operated by the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service. In 1976 the hatchery was turned over to the State of Iowa as part of a land trade. Every year it produces 600,000 fish stock, primarily trout, that are then dispersed in Iowa waters.

The aeroplane is similar to the Wright brother's Wright Flyer Model A which was first flown at public demonstrations in Le Mans, France in August 1908. This was also the same model that the brothers contracted to build for the United States War Department in February 1908. The Wright brother's Model A design was licensed for production in Europe with the largest number produced in Germany. 

Evidently one enterprising fellow in Iowa found the means to buy one too. On 10 February 1913 he wrote a message on the back of this postcard to explain his new wings to his sister, Miss Olive Des Antels of Northville, Michigan. 

Sunday

Hello Sis,                                     

                  How are you all?

I'm fine.  This picture shows

me just coming back from   

town in my aeroplane.        

What do you know about   

       that?  No news out here.  Write

        me Sis.  Have subscribed for the

    Record.  So you won't have to

       trouble sending them any more.

            Love to all, Your loving Bro. Gene.

            Write soon.                          

Seventy miles northwest of Manchester is the town of Shell Rock, Iowa. It's much smaller than Manchester and in 1910 it had only 741 citizens. But amazingly the little town of Shell Rock could brag that flying over its sky were two aeroplanes and a sizeable airship too. Presumably the airfield was not on the main street. Those utility poles look very prickly. I wonder how they produced hydrogen for the airship.

It seems Shell Rock must have been the site for one of the first international airports as this postcard was addressed to a someone in Eibergen, Netherlands. It has a postmark of 6 October 1910, 4 PM from Shell Rock and a second postmark from Eibergen of 18 October. That's a very impressive delivery time considering that the maximum speed for Count Ferdinand Zeppelin's airships was around 48 km/h (30 mph). His dirigibles were designed to carry mail and passengers though I don't know how successful his competitors in Iowa were. Even the Wright Flyer could only manage 42 mph and still lacked sufficient power and fuel capacity for trans-Atlantic flight. I suppose the postcard more likely went by train. I believe there was once a railway bridge from Boston to Amsterdam.

Uit verre vorde
zend ik u ga me
er hartelghe goet
Shellrock Iowa
2 Oct 1910
            U** behende (?)
H. G.

From far away I
send you my
best wishes
Shellrock Iowa

During the 1910 decade of the first era of flying machines the people of Iowa were not going to be left behind. It seems nearly every town in the state had a visit from an airship or an airplane. I suppose it is part of that Iowan tradition of taking pride in what their state can produce.  Photo postcards of their gigantic Iowa corn cobs were very popular as well as pictures of 10 foot long Iowa carrots, rabbits the size of hippopotamus, and monstrous long pike fish (presumably well-fed on trout). I don't believe many people today know how important Iowa was to the development of airships and aeroplanes, but I have enough "Real Photos" to prove it. This is only the beginning of a series of stories I plan to tell about the early aviation craze in Iowa. So readers can expect to see more. No joke. It's all true, I'm sure.  

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where combing the seashore can get pretty messy.