Paul Gavarni
Paul Gavarni was the nom de plume of Sulpice Guillaume Chevalier (13 January 1804, Paris – 24 November 1866), a French illustrator, born in Paris.
Early career
Gavarni's father Sulpice Chevalier was from a family line of coopers from Burgundy. Paul began work as a mechanical worker in a machine factory but he saw that to make any progress in his profession, he had to be able to draw; accordingly in his spare time in the evenings, he took classes in drawing. He devoted his special attention to architectural and mechanical drawing and worked at land surveying and mapping which led to his obtaining a position with the Government Ordnance Department as a draughtsman. It wasn't until his early thirties that he turned his attention to his proper vocation as an artist.
Nom-de-plume
The story is told that he took his name from Gavarnie in Luz-Saint-Sauveur where he had taken a journey into the Pyrenees.
His first published drawings were for the magazine Journal des modes.
Gavarni was then barely thirty years of age. His sharp and witty pencil gave to these generally commonplace and unartistic figures a life-likeness and an expression which soon won for him a name in fashionable circles. Gradually he gave greater attention to this more congenial work, and finally ceased working as an engineer to become the director of the journal Les Gens du monde.
Podcasts:
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by Phish
Cavern
by: PhishYour time is near, the mission's clear, it's later than we think
Before you slip into the night, you'll want something to drink
Steal away before the dawn, and bring us back good news
But if you've tread in primal soup, please wipe it from your shoes
Just then a porthole pirate scourged the evening with his cry
And sanctuary bugs deprived the monkey of its thigh
A dust arose and clogged my nose before I could blink twice
Despite the stuff that bubbled up, I gave some last advice:
The flesh from Satan's dogs will make the rudiments of gruel
Deduct the carrots from your pay you worthless swampy fool
Exploding then through fields and fen and swimming in the mire
The septic maiden's gargoyle tooth demented me with fire
I drifted where the current chose afloat upon my back
And if perchance a newt slimed by, I'd stuff it in my sack
Soon I felt a bubble form, somewhere below my skin
But with handy spine of hedgehog I removed the force within
Suzie then removed her mask and caused a mighty stir
The angry mob responded taking turns at grabbing her
The foggy cavern's musty grime appeared within my palm
I snatched Rick's fork to scrape it off with deadly icy calm
[Alternate lyrics for above verse:
The brothel wife then grabbed a knife and slashed me on the tongue
I turned the blade back on the bitch and dropped her in the dung]
The crowd meanwhile had taken Sue and used her like a rag
To mop the slime from where the slug had slithered with the bag
In summing up, the moral seems a little bit obscure...
Give the director a serpent deflector
a mudrat detector, a ribbon reflector
a cushion convector, a pitcher of nectar *
a virile dissector,a hormone collector
Whatever you do, take care of your shoes