Lead.

Lead, follow, ...

... or get out of the way.

Ted Turner

Ted Turner, Rest in Peace

Ted Turner has passed.

Fair winds and following seas, skip.

Happy Birthday, J.M.W. Turner

Turner, Study for Sea and Sky, Isle of Wight, 1827

I have no secret but hard work. This is a secret that many never learn, and they don't succeed because they don't learn it. Labor is the genius that changes the world from ugliness to beauty, and the great curse to a great blessing.  I know of no genius but the genius of hard work.

Joseph Mallord William Turner, born on this day in 1775.

The Genius of Turner: Painting The Industrial Revolution ...

Fighting.

The word impossible does not exist for me. I've got a lot of signal flags in my flag bag, but there is not a white one in there. I am going to keep fighting until the day I die - and might keep on fighting afterward ... depends on where I am.

Ted Turner

More.

Put out more flags ...

Happy Birthday, Turner

Turner, Three Seascapes, 1827

I have no secret but hard work. This is a secret that many never learn, and they don't succeed because they don't learn it. Labor is the genius that changes the world from ugliness to beauty, and the great curse to a great blessing.

J. M. W. Turner, born on this day in 1775

Facing.

Then out spake brave Horatius,

The Captain of the gate:

"To every man upon this earth

Death cometh soon or late.

And how can man die better

Than facing fearful odds,

For the ashes of his fathers,

And the temples of his Gods?"

Thomas Babington Macaulay, from "Horatius"

All.

Looks like there's some heavy weather coming. Put up all the canvas, we'll let God take it down.

Ted Turner, from 1979 Fastnet

Serenity.

Turner, Sketchbooks, n/d

Like a curtain slowly drawn

It stops suddenly half open,

Or, like grief itself, filled with gentle hope,

It becomes lighter in the shore-less dark,

Thus the moon barely wanes

Winding her way above the storm-tossed sea.

Stand upon this hill and behold endlessly

This scene of a formidable sea,

And it will seem to thee a waking dream.

That secret mind flowing in thee

Which even the day cannot scatter,

The serenity of thinking and the beating of the heart

Will enchain thee in this vision;

This golden-silver moon

Standing lonely over the sea,

All curtain the grief of even the hopeless.

And it appears that through the tempest

Moves a light caressing wind,

While the sea swells up with a roar,

Sometimes, like a battlefield it looks to me

The tempestuous sea,

Where the moon itself is a brilliant golden crown

Of a great king.

But even that moon is always beneath thee

Oh Master most high,

Oh forgive thou me

If even this master was frightened for a moment

Oh, noble moment, by art betrayed…

And how may one not delight in thee,

Oh thou young boy, but forgive thou me,

If I shall bend my white head

Before thy art divine

Thy bliss-wrought genius.

J.M.W. Turner

Won.

Ted Turner and his crew aboard Courageous won the America's Cup on this day in 1977.

Hark!

Turner, Storm at Sea Study, n/d

What way does the wind come? What way does he go?

He rides over the water, and over the snow,

Through wood, and through vale; and o’er rocky height,

Which the goat cannot climb, takes his sounding flight;

He tosses about in every bare tree,

As, if you look up, you plainly may see;

But how he will come, and whither he goes,

There’s never a scholar in England knows.

He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook,

And ring a sharp ’larum; but, if you should look,

There’s nothing to see but a cushion of snow,

Round as a pillow, and whiter than milk,

And softer than if it were covered with silk.

Sometimes he’ll hide in the cave of a rock,

Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock;

— Yet seek him, and what shall you find in the place?

Nothing but silence and empty space;

Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves,

That he’s left, for a bed, to beggars or thieves!

As soon as ’tis daylight tomorrow, with me

You shall go to the orchard, and then you will see

That he has been there, and made a great rout,

And cracked the branches, and strewn them about;

Heaven grant that he spare but that one upright twig

That looked up at the sky so proud and big

All last summer, as well you know,

Studded with apples, a beautiful show!

Hark! over the roof he makes a pause,

And growls as if he would fix his claws

Right in the slates, and with a huge rattle

Drive them down, like men in a battle:

– But let him range round; he does us no harm,

We build up the fire, we’re snug and warm;

Untouched by his breath see the candle shines bright,

And burns with a clear and steady light.

Books have we to read, but that half-stifled knell,

Alas! ’tis the sound of the eight o’clock bell.

— Come, now we’ll to bed! and when we are there

He may work his own will, and what shall we care?

He may knock at the door — we’ll not let him in;

May drive at the windows — we’ll laugh at his din;

Let him seek his own home wherever it be;

Here’s a cozie warm house for Edward and me.

Dorothy Wordsworth

Driving.

Turner, Three Seascapes, 1829

WHITE HORSES 

Far out at sea 

There are horses to ride, 

Little white horses 

That race with the tide. 

Their tossing manes 

Are the white sea-foam, 

And the lashing winds 

Are driving them home- 

To shadowy stables 

Fast they must flee, 

To the great green caverns 

Down under the sea.

Irene Pawsey

Happy Birthday, Turner

J.M.W. Turner, Sea and Sky, Isle of Wight, 1827

I have no secret but hard work. This is a secret that many never learn, and they don't succeed because they don't learn it. Labor is the genius that changes the world from ugliness to beauty, and the great curse to a great blessing.

J.M.W. Turner, born on this day in 1775

Keep.

HORATIUS

Then out spake brave Horatius,

The Captain of the gate:

"To every man upon this earth

Death cometh soon or late.

And how can man die better

Than facing fearful odds,

For the ashes of his fathers,

And the temples of his Gods,

And for the tender mother

Who dandled him to rest,

And for the wife who nurses

His baby at her breast,

And for the holy maidens

Who feed the eternal flame,

To save them from false Sextus

That wrought the deed of shame?

Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,

With all the speed ye may;

I, with two more to help me,

Will hold the foe in play.

In yon strait path a thousand

May well be stopped by three.

Now who will stand on either hand,

And keep the bridge with me?"

Then out spake Spurius Lartius;

A Ramnian proud was he:

"Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,

And keep the bridge with thee."

And out spake strong Herminius;

Of Titian blood was he:

"I will abide on thy left side,

And keep the bridge with thee."

"Horatius," quoth the Consul,

"As thou sayest, so let it be."

And straight against that great array

Forth went the dauntless Three.

For Romans in Rome’s quarrel

Spared neither land nor gold,

Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,

In the brave days of old.

Then none was for a party;

Then all were for the state;

Then the great man helped the poor,

And the poor man loved the great:

Then lands were fairly portioned;

Then spoils were fairly sold:

The Romans were like brothers

In the brave days of old.

Now Roman is to Roman

More hateful than a foe,

And the Tribunes beard the high,

And the Fathers grind the low.

As we wax hot in faction,

In battle we wax cold:

Wherefore men fight not as they fought

In the brave days of old.

Thomas Babington Macaulay

Happy Birthday, Turner

Turner, Rain Clouds Approaching over a Landscape, 1840

I have no secret but hard work. This is a secret that many never learn, and they don't succeed because they don't learn it. Labor is the genius that changes the world from ugliness to beauty, and the great curse to a great blessing.  I know of no genius but the genius of hard work.

Joseph Mallord William Turner, born on this day in 1775

True.

Turner. Sea and Sky, English Coast, 1832

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone

    enough

to truly consecrate the hour.

I am much too small in this world, yet not small

    enough

to be to you just object and thing,

dark and smart.

I want my free will and want it accompanying

the path which leads to action;

and want during times that beg questions,

where something is up,

to be among those in the know,

or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,

never be blind or too old

to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.

I want to unfold.

Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;

for there I would be dishonest, untrue.

I want my conscience to be

true before you;

want to describe myself like a picture I observed

for a long time, one close up,

like a new word I learned and embraced,

like the everday jug,

like my mother's face,

like a ship that carried me along

through the deadliest storm.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Revered.

The legendary 12 meter America's Cup yacht, Courageous, is for sale.

Perhaps the most famous and revered 12-Metre of the modern era, Courageous won the America’s Cup twice, in 1974 and 1977 and is one of only three boats with that distinction in the 169 history of the competition. An icon of American sailing, she is notable also as the first 12 Metre of aluminum construction.

Launched in 1974 Courageous was designed by Sparkman & Stephens and built at Minneford Yacht Yard. Sparkman & Stephens legacy remains sterling to this day; to wit, a high-end broker recently concluded a listing summary, “She is a Sparkman & Stephens design. What more needs to be said?”

Many stories have been written and told of those Cup wins, particularly the close relationship enjoyed by Ted Turner and Gary Jobson leading to their victories. Derring-do on the water, serious debriefing, a sharp focus on sail shape and above all a "team-effort" remains the Courageous legacy – along with those two Auld Mugs, of course.

CONNECT 

Harpooned.

Turner, A Harpooned Whale, 1845

 

Sing.

Turner, Sky Study, 1833

THOSE DANCING DAYS are GONE

Come, let me sing into your ear;

Those dancing days are gone,

All that silk and satin gear;

Crouch upon a stone,

Wrapping that foul body up

In as foul a rag:

I carry the sun in a golden cup.

The moon in a silver bag.

Curse as you may I sing it through;

What matter if the knave

That the most could pleasure you,

The children that he gave,

Are somewhere sleeping like a top

Under a marble flag?

I carry the sun in a golden cup.

The moon in a silver bag.

I thought it out this very day.

Noon upon the clock,

A man may put pretence away

Who leans upon a stick,

May sing, and sing until he drop,

Whether to maid or hag:

I carry the sun in a golden cup,

The moon in a silver bag.

W.B. Yeats

Excellent.

An excellent book ...