A Century-Old Knabe Piano Ad.

I recently purchased a very old opera booklet from the Bostonians Opera that dates back to 1889.

The most interesting part about it is that it contains a Knabe advertisement on the back, as shown above, with a beautiful piano etching done by Allen Eng. and a reproduction of a recommendation letter by Hans von Bulow.

When I first purchased it, I did not know that the letter was printed on the back of the advertisement page. After spending some time deciphering his handwriting, I was able to read its content. It reads:

"The Knabe pianos which I did not know before have been chosen for any present concert tour in the United States by my Impresario and accepted by me on the recommendation of my friend Bechstein acquainted with their merits. Had I known these pianos as now I do I would have chosen them by myself as their sound and touch are more sympathetic to my ears and hands than all others of the country.

New York 6th April 1889

Dr. Hans von Bulow

To the William Knabe and Co."


This letter and an advertisement were created about a century from today.
The proud grand piano shown is no longer for sale, nor does its maker exist.

Time is a cruel thief.

The Start of the Second Semester

I felt tired.

It was a gloomy day, and the future seemed ever so insecure that I hesitated buying my own textbooks.

There was I, unable and incapable to decide between the two worlds, lacking confidence of what's to come.

Classes seemed ominously difficult.

Sigh. Forever Sigh.

Seoul Station's Dome Complete!

Today I finally topped off my Lego model of Seoul Station. It was quite a challenge, but I am happy with the final design. I was able to finish it because the updated version of Lego Digital Designer is a lot faster and does not give error messages.

Now I have to work on the minor details and side wings of the station.

On Christmas Day

It rained quite heavily yesterday on Christmas eve, melting the existing snow on the ground.

Why do I always feel that this long-anticipated day of the year flees without impression?

Christmas Day was magical once. I was young back then.

Perhaps a simple act of decorating a Christmas tree, thus having the ability to celebrate, constitutes Christmas. Or is it just an anticipation?

Antique Grandfather Clocks

An English Grandfather Clock (Paul Rimbault, 1773, London)

Grandfather Clocks at the Metropolitan Museum of Art
(By Wynlok, Flickr)

A Grandfather Clock at Rosehill House, Coalbrookdale, England
(By Elliott Brown)

(By Dan Brady)

(By Duncan McNeil)

I love antique grandfather clocks.

Grandfather clocks, also called longcase or tall-case clocks, emerged in the 18th century with the invention of the anchor escapement around 1670. The verge escapement, which was widely in use for clock movements that were made before, required very wide pendulum swings to run; therefore, longer pendulums such as the ones found in grandfather clocks were not practical before the 18th century.

The clock consists of the hood, which houses the movement (mechanism) of the clock, the waist, which houses the pendulum, and the base.

To me, unlike today's grandfather clocks, antique clocks seem to possess certain elegance and humaine texture. Many old grandfather clocks have painted dials, and almost all of them have cases that are fully enclosed without having any glass openings. Some cases feature exotic wood veneers and beautiful craftmanship, while others were made simply with English Oak or mahogany. It seems English made many grandfather clocks during the 18th and 19th century, and the dials of these clocks bear their origins, such as London or Cockermouth.


As a child, I really enjoyed reading a collection of fairytale stories. In one of the stories (by Grimm, I later found out), a wolf attacked a house full of young lambs and ate them while their mother was away. The youngest, however, escaped by hiding inside of a grandfather clock. It was so impressionable that I wanted to hide inside if I found one.

The first time I had personally encountered such an old grandfather clock was back when I visited my mother's workplace about a year ago. It was there, a remarkably beautiful old clock that did not work, standing quietly at a lobby. It was from Dartington, England, and its metal dial was one of its fine features. I was rather surprised at the pendulum, which looked so simple, and the weights, which looked rather earthy. When I swinged the pendulum, the clock's second hand turned second by second as it completed one swing.

It made a sound, a sound that resembled a heartbeat. For how many years did it make that same sound?

I look forward to having an old grandfather clock as my lifelong companion.

The First Day, Fall Semeter

Today was marked by numerous yet vivid dreams.



In a first dream, I dreamed that I was going to a war. I was to drive a small airplane, and I was shaken with a fear of dying. Actually, I was rather more afraid of dying by an explosion/crash involving fire. My father bought me a single fish for preparation, which outrageously costed $3000.

In a second dream, I dreamed that I was in Paris. To ecape people who were chasing me without a reason, I escaped the Paris Opera by getting into a secret wooden elevator, which went down and somehow connected to a dazzling, marble-floored shopping mall. After existing the mall, I saw the city. The city was almost surreal and futuristic, with deep dark blue skies, brilliant signs, and imposing buildings. Notre Dame looked beautiful. It was winter.

In a third dream, I dreamed that I was in some kind of a fantasy card contest. I became the last one to survive and to finish.



Between these dreams, I found myself in classrooms, listening to the first lectures of the semester. I took two naps between lectures, for I was tired from driving yesterday, and each time I woke up with my dream still lingering in my memory.


Sometimes I wish I could live in a dream and see the end.

My Historic Architecture Project

Recently I began to pursue an unique project: recreating Seoul's lost and often neglected architectural history. I chose my medium to be... Legos. :)

The picture above is a postcard dating back to 1920s, showing Seoul during the colonial/modernization period. The first building pictured is today's old Seoul Station (서울역), while the second building is Seoul Central Post Office (서울중앙우체국), which was called before the liberation of Korea from Japanese rule as Keijo Post Office (경성우편국; 京城郵便局). Seoul Station is one of few buildings that survive to this day, while the post office was sadly lost by air raids during the Korean War.

These eclectic western-style buildings were built in the first half of the 20th century to reflect progress and often awe the traditional Korean public by the Japanese. Many Japanese were living in Seoul during the colonial period, and these buildings were meant to serve their needs; this was a time when Korean was forbidden and the Japanese government worked hard to "eradicate" Korean culture.

Perhaps not surprisingly, these colonial yet historic buildings did not survive more than a century; often they were either destroyed during the Korean War or demolished in order to make way for new modern development projects. Most notable demolition happened in 1995, when the former Japanese General Government Building was symbolically demolished in order to restore Gyeongbokgung Palace to its former form. (An irony here is that the Japanese Government building itself was built by the Japanese after systemically demolishing Gyeongbokgung Palace, a symbol of Korea's traditional royal authority)

However, the Korean public today is beginning to realize the historic and cultural importance of buildings created during this painful period. Even the most painful and bitter history is still history worth preserving, and often these buildings served for many decades after Korea's liberation, thus making them endearing to Koreans as well. Many are now active in preserving these historic buildings for future generations, because this act is more meaningful than destroying these buildings and thus losing all memories attached to them.



I loved to play with Legos when I was a child, but stopped playing as I grew older. Recently, though, I rediscovered childish joy (and perhaps nostalgia) of making things when I assembled my Cafe Corner and Eiffel Tower.

Lego Group supplies a freely-downloadable program called Lego Digital Designer (LDD). It allows me to design a virtual Lego building without that much of brick constraints and to even purchase my creations online.

The screenshots of my models of the old Seoul Station and Seoul Central Post Office are shown above. Neither of these models are currently finished because my laptop (MacBook) does not let me to add more by freezing and showing error messages. I think this is due to my laptop's inherent weak graphic card. :(

Still, I had a wonderful time designing and assembling my models. It was a tedious and tiresome process, for I had to constantly compare my collected photos of these buildings with my models and rethink ways of assembling Legos; but in the end, I am quite satisfied with my creations. Now I can actually see these buildings in three dimensions instead of just two with my computer, and can even dream of owning one.

This project is still not finished, and I probably will continue with a different computer in the future. :)

Legos are just amazing in their flexibility. I love them.

A Dream

I had a strange dream today. It was so impressionable that I can still vaguely remember and write...

I remember seeing a hauntingly beautiful yet somewhat strange starry night with a person that I know (I cannot remember who it was). There was the constellation Orion, brightly burning.

Then the sky developed a dark hole and I was somehow (quickly) sucked right into this hole; the sky was like a vacumn cleaner, and I was helpless against it. I was so terrified that I woke up, shaking, with a sensation of being lifted still lingering.

Is there a meaning behind this dream? Why was I so afraid?


I wonder if my dream can be called a nightmare.

The Finished Café Corner

Today I finally opened the box and spent a whole day assembling this set. It took almost eight hours to assemble, but I could not take my hands off until I finished.

I was quite impressed by sheer creativity permeating through its overall design. The treatment of corner walls and decorations of the building is utterly brilliant, and its dormer windows, its "Hotel" sign, and its entrance are also beautifully designed. Although I have played with Legos since childhood, there were some parts and colors that I was not familiar with.

Overall, I am glad that I bought this gorgeous set. It looks like a doll house. :)

Hmm... I now wish I had the Green Grocer...

I Had to Buy the Café Corner...

I brought home this precious thing from a Lego store yesterday, after years of longing.

The Café Corner is probably one of the most beautiful set that Lego has ever produced. It was expensive for my small student budget, but I was awed so much that I could not help myself but to buy it.

(Simply in Korean-> 어쩔 수 없이 질러버렸음;;; ㅠㅠ;;)

I still can't bring myself to open the box, for then I can't get a refund for the item.

At least I had a courage to pay... :)

D'espairsRay: Redeemer

Aa... Screaming out your brief existence... to where? To heaven?

The recent music by D'espairsRay is too optimistic. But still... I adore its spirit.

The uncertain and intangible future awaits, while the familiar past is simply fading away.

Callous.

I wish to get a Flying V. Someday. Sigh.

The RMS Titanic

Exactly ninety-seven years ago from today, on April 15th, 1912, the famous luxury ocean liner Titanic met its tragic fate and sank in the middle of Atlantic Ocean.

The following is a sad yet deeply-touching account of how one father, Arthur West, gave a flask of milk for his wife Ada and his daughters, 5-year-old Constance and 10-month-old Barbara, before returning and sharing a same fate as the doomed ship. The story was revealed after Barbara, aged 96, died in 2007.

Here are Mrs. West's accounts in her letters:

'My dear people, here's the end of my first awful week without my dear old boy.

'The experiences I have been through with all the other poor creatures have been enough for two life times.

'We were amongst the first to leave the ship. Arthur placed life belts upon the children then carried them onto the boat deck.

'After seeing us safely into the lifeboat Arthur returned to the cabin for a thermos of hot milk and finding the lifeboat let down he reached it by means of a rope, gave the flask to me, and, with a farewell returned to the deck of the ship.'

'There were men in our boat who had concealed themselves under the ladies skirts and had to be asked to stop lighting cigarettes as there was a danger of the dresses becoming ignited.'

'It was only when I saw the ship sink and heard the awful cries and groans from the poor drowning creatures that I felt the least bit of fear as to his safety.

'There was no suggestion of going back to the ship when she sank and drowning people was heard.

'The steward who seemed to be in charge called out 'Pull up men - they're singing in the other boats. Give them a shout!'

'The noise they made drowned all the cries and we gradually drew away from the scene of the wreck and did not turn back until some time after the Carpathia had appeared.'


Just four days before the tragedy, Auther West wrote a letter on board the Titanic. In his letter he writes:

'I hope we have a calm trip....till we reach our journeys end.'

I can only admire Arthur West's courage to part with his family and meet his death. He must have known that the milk flask is the last present that he can give.


So many things have changed since then...

Interesting Photo that I Recently Bought

Today is Friday the 13th. (Maybe because of this, I did not do so well on my math test... :( )

I bought this vintage picture recently on Ebay. It is not really a beautiful or artistic picture, but its main subject, a Victorian Knabe grand piano, sparks my interest: the piano looks quite similar, but not identical, to my own piano.

The back of the picture has a marked date, June 13th, 1928; I suppose the picture was taken on this day.

The photograph is rather unusual in that its purpose is not so clear. Still, it offers a rare and perhaps eerie glimpse of the past living room without any people present. Already almost 81 years have passed since then...

I wonder if the piano still exists.

Today is My Birthday!

Today is my birthday, March 11th. Now I am 20 years old.

Maybe I should not celebrate, because I am irrevocably becoming older... Still, I ate at a restaurant in order to make this day special.

19 years went by.


Birthdays are rather difficult to understand or to accept.

Why is the word "irrevocable" so heavy?

Today is Valentine's Day~

I need chocolate!!! (even more than love...?) XD

A Tragic Old Grand Piano...

This is an antique grand piano (c. 1880s, manufactured by George Steck & Co) that lives in a piano shop near my university campus. I saw it for the first time when I first visited the shop last summer.

According to the shop's owner, it was rebuilt (meaning its parts, such as hammers and strings, were replaced and its case was refinished) about a decade ago, and now needs a new owner.

This piano must have once been beautiful and owned by a proud and wealthy owner when it was new; it still has intricate cabriole legs and its rosewood veneer still echoes elegance. But now, it has a scratched, poorly-cared, and sun-bleached cabinet, and because it was manufactured by a piano company that is not so widely recognized, it is sadly not being restored to its potential and sold as is.

I feel moved in some way when I see old artifacts and antiques, becoming excited enough to buy them and surprised by their form and design. The artifacts, if well-cared, do not age quickly or change like humans, and their conspicuously incongruent and inherent cultural atmosphere and style makes them look... abandoned.

Anonymous people of the past, who created the piano, left it to the world and simply disappeared. Is this not the future waiting for so many of us...? Anonymity?

Today I saw this piano again, still without an owner, and I left wondering about its ultimate fate.

A tragic old piano.

Prague, Antonín Dvořák, and Piano

(By peragro, Flickr ID)

Prague's Astronomical Clock
(By wwwleraar, Flickr ID)


Charles Bridge
(By rodliam, Flickr ID)

The Museum of Antonín Dvořák:
A historic Baroque house by an architect Kilian Ignaz Dientzenhofer

Dvořák's Bosendorfer grand piano
(Last two pictures by Hung Chieh Tsai)



Antonín Dvořák is one of my favorite Romantic composers. His music has a lively spirit and simple yet beautiful melody, which I love and admire. The piece introduced here is Dvořák's Slavonic Dance No. 1.

Prague, today the capital of Czech Republic, is a beautifully-preserved historic city. The oldest parts of Prague's famous astronomical clock were made in 1410, and Prague's beautiful Charles Bridge, which is lined with sculptures, was finished in the 15th century. The Gothic cathedral shown in the first picture is St. Vitus Cathedral, which was completed in 1929, almost 600 years after its first stone was laid in 1344.

Dvořák was born near this city, and was buried here also. Thus not surprisingly, a museum dedicated to the composer, the Antonín Dvořák Museum, is in Prague. This museum, founded in 1932, is housed in a beautiful 18th-century Baroque house by an architect Kilian Ignaz Dientzenhofer.

A Bosendorfer grand piano (made in 1879; pictured above), owned and used by Dvořák, is currently housed in this museum.

Great composers perhaps need a great setting.