Heavy rains are finally starting to extinguish the distastrous bushfires that covered a last part of eastern Australia during the last couple of months (and of course, bringing floods). Back while they were still burning, James Raynes tweeted a series of images he adapted from Australian recruitment posters from the First World War, which I […]
Shortly after the declaration of war Londoners lifted fearful eyes to the skies, as it seemed that bombs might be about to rain down on them from the skies…
Walter Sickert, Miss Earhart’s Arrival (1932). A fascinating image. The occasion is Amelia Earhart’s arrival at Hanworth aerodrome on 22 May 1932, after her solo flight across the Atlantic, the first by a woman and in record time. She was already well-known as an aviator, but this feat made her a celebrity. You can see
John Ptak asks of this cover from the October 1922 issue Popular Mechanics: ‘why?’ It’s a good question. The accompanying article doesn’t really help: Consider yourself aboard a giant airplane whose whirring propellers rapidly drive from view faint objects on the earth far below. As towns and hamlets recede in the distance you realize that
Manfred von Richthofen is undoubtedly the most famous aviator of the First World War, possibly of all time. But he’s not famous by name, so much as by nickname: he is the Red Baron, a reference to his red aircraft and his aristocratic birth. It instantly evokes images of knights of the sky, grappling together
An interesting confluence of old and new: an Australian advertisement for a steamship passage to Britain to see both royal pageantry and aerial theatre, in the form of the ‘Hendon Air Pageant’, symbolised by aircraft performing aerobatics and trailing smoke: In 1935 His Majesty the King will celebrate the Silver Jubilee of his accession. London
Following a thread provided by John Ptak on Twitter led me to the above image of ‘The great air-liner of the future’, published in The Sphere (London), 19 September 1925, 24–25. I agree with John: it’s an unusually fabulous image of the future of aviation, and I’d add unusually optimistic for Britain (though not uniquely
This is the cover of the November 1937 issue of an American pulp magazine called Dare-Devil Aces. I vaguely knew about the existence of these aviation adventure magazines, or air pulps, but I’d assumed they were filled with stories of chivalric air combat of the Great War. Many undoubtedly were, but that’s not what this
Walter Nessler called this painting Premonition. A premonition of what? It’s clearly London, judging from St Paul’s, the double deckers, and so on, but it’s an unsettling version. Everything is jumbled together and smothered by blood-red clouds. But apart perhaps from the ominous sky, the only direct evidence of what’s wrong with this picture is
A drawing by an Australian, John T. Collins, perhaps as a student exercise. Unlike in Britain, there was no dominant ‘aerial pageant’ here but rather many local ones, so it seems like a generic advertisement. It’s dated to 1932 or 1933, but assuming the context is Australian then those would be Hawker Demons and it
