August 31, 2011
tracy lords does marlene deitrich in your tumblr
New Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1!
New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook:
If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!New Facebook: Dear Facebook: If i'd wanted a bunch of hourglasses i'd have gone to Pier 1! Fix your fucking shit!
Corredor de apuestas - bookies
Un corredor de apuestas o casa de apuestas es una persona u organización que acepta apuestas en eventos y que desempeña el papel de intermediario entre jugadores que realizan apuestas. Recauda el dinero apostado y efectúa los pagos a los ganadores, cobrando una comisión por su labor. Al ajustar las probabilidades a su favor o por tener una diferencia de puntos, el corredor de apuestas tendrá como objetivo garantizar un beneficio mediante la consecución de un conjunto de apuestas equilibrado. Por lo general no intenta ganar dinero de las propias apuestas, trata de obtener beneficio del evento sin importar el resultado. En el mundo de las apuestas, la reputación e integridad de un corredor de apuestas es su principal valor. En Inglaterra algunas casas de apuestas llevan operando más de medio siglo, ofreciendo cuotas y pagando puntualmente a sus jugadores.
Contenido
[ocultar][editar] Eventos
La mayoría de los corredores de apuestas en los Estados Unidos aceptan apuestas unicamente en el deporte profesional y universitario, en Europa es habitual una gama más amplia de apuestas, incluyendo en este sentido las apuestas de golf ,fútbol y tenis, y sobre todo las carreras de caballos, carreras de galgos y Formula 1.[1] También se puede apostar sobre el resultado de las elecciones políticas o algunos concursos de la televisión, por lo que el rango de enventos en los que se puede apostar en una casa de apuestas europeas es muy amplio.
[editar] Cuotas
El jugador apuesta su dinero a un evento sabiendo que, finalizado el mismo, dicho dinero se habrá multiplicado por una cuota[2] o habrá perdido todo su valor.
Las cuotas las genera el corredor de apuestas en base a sus estimaciones y expresan la cantidad a ganar por los jugadores en caso de acertar. Se representan mediante tres sistemas distintos:
1.– Cuotas fraccionarias: Empleado originariamente por las casas inglesas, sistema obsoleto, indica las ganancias netas como una fracción. Ejemplo: Madrid vence con cuota 1/2 Apostado 10 euros Ganado 10 x 1/2 = 5 euros Cobrado 10 x (1/2 + 1) = 15 euros
2.– Cuotas decimales: Es el más común, indica el número de unidades monetarias a cobrar por cada unidad apostada por el jugador. Ejemplo: Barcelona vence con cuota 1,75 Apostado 10 euros Cobrado 10 x 1,75 = 17,5 euros Ganado 17,5 – 10 = 7,5 euros
3.– Cuotas americanas: Poco intuitivo, emplea cuotas positivas o negativas. Las cuotas positivas (por ejemplo, +250) indican las ganancias netas para una apuestas de 100 unidades.Las cuotas negativas (por ejemplo, -250) indican la cantidad a apostar para que resulte una ganancia neta de 100 unidades.
[editar] Legalidad
Dependiendo del país las apuestas pueden ser legales o ilegales, y aún siendo ilegales puede haber zonas dentro del país donde estén reguladas. Las casas de apuestas son ilegales en Estados Unidos, con la notable excepción de Nevada. En algunos países, como Singapur, Suecia, Canadá y Hong Kong, la casa de apuestas legal es sólo propiedad del estado.
En el Peñon de Gibraltar están afincadas la mayoría de las casas de juego por Internet en Europa. En el Peñón están radicados portales que se frecuentan desde España, Alemania y Francia, e incluso desde países comunitarios donde está regulado este mercado, como Reino Unido, Austria y Malta. Desde el Departamento de Comercio del Gobierno de Gibraltar ofrecen a los inversores asistencia tecnológica, cuotas mínimas por licencias de juego, importantes rebajas fiscales y lo último en fibra óptica y telecomunicaciones.[3]
Gibraltar, Malta, la Isla de Man y Alderney (pequeña isla dependiente de la corona británica, a unas diez millas de Normandía) son los únicos lugares en Europa desde donde conceden licencias para explotar bingos y casinos online.
En el Reino Unido, las casas de apuestas legales de confianza son miembros del IBAS, que es un estándar de la industria y sirve para resolver disputas.
La situación es más confusa en el Estados Unidos, que trata de restringir a los operadores de juegos de azar extranjeros el acceso por Internet a su mercado interno. Esto ha resultado en una sentencia en el 2005 contra el gobierno de los EE.UU. por la Organización Mundial de Comercio. Pero en 2007 La Comisión Europea selló un acuerdo con Estados Unidos en virtud del cual dichas compañías no podrán competir en el mercado estadounidense, tal y como marca la legislación del país americano.[4]
Según la ley federal de los E.E.U.U, apostar es legal, y cada estado es libre de regular o prohibir esta práctica. Las casas de apuestas son legales en Nevada desde 1931, convirtiéndose en parte de la espina dorsal de la economía, y Las Vegas en la capital mundial del juego. En 1976, se legalizaron las apuestas en Atlantic City (New Jersey) y en 1990 en Tunica (Mississippi). Desde entonces ambas ciudades han levantado expectaculares complejos hoteleros y casinos.
Debido a una sentencia favorable de la corte Suprema dictada en 1987, muchos nativos americanos han construido sus propios casinos y casas de apuestas en sus tierras. Puesto que las tribus son consideradas como naciones soberanas, suelen verse libres de las leyes estatales de juego, quedando así tan sólo reguladas por la ley federal.
[editar] Apuestas en Internet
Con la llegada de Internet muchos corredores de apuestas tienen una página en línea donde se pueden ver eventos deportivos y apostar en vivo. Las apuestas también se toman a través de teléfonos y por medio de mensajes de texto SMS. Los principales sitios sólo acepta apuestas de los países donde las apuestas en Internet no está prohibidas y de personas mayores de edad.
A menudo, estos sitios web están vinculados a casinos. Esto genera controversia, según las organizaciones de ayuda y asesoramiento para adictos al juego GamCare y Gamblers Anonymous del Reino Unido, el aumento de las casa de apuestas por Internet está siendo vinculada a un aumento en la adicción a los juegos de azar.
Cada vez más, los apostadores en línea están recurriendo a la utilización de los intercambios de apuestas en Internet, como Betfair[5] y BETDAQ. Que hacen coincidir automáticamente las apuestas de los diferentes jugadores, cobrando una pequeña comision al ganador. Lo cual efectivamente elimina el tradicional margen de beneficio del corredor de apuestas. Algunas casas de apuestas incluso han tomado a la utilización de los intercambios de apuestas como una forma de desprenderse de las apuestas desfavorables y reducir así su riesgo total.
El intercambios de apuestas es universalmente rechazado por el corredor de apuestas tradicional. No sólo están por lo general en condiciones de ofrecer mejores probabilidades a los apostadores debido a su gran reducción de las comisiones, sino que también dan oportunidades a los jugadores de ver el estado real del mercado y así poder establecer sus probabilidades.
La mayoría de los deportes por televisión en el Reino Unido y Europa están patrocinadas, total o parcialmente a través de casas de apuestas de Internet, a veces con varias casas de apuestas y casinos en línea que se muestran en las camisetas de los jugadores o en las vallas publicitarias.[6]
[editar] Referencias
- ↑ «Alonso, líder en las casas de apuestas». Consultado el 2010 - 06 - 19.
- ↑ «Casa de apuestas». Consultado el 2010 - 06 - 19.
- ↑ «Apuestas». Consultado el 2010 - 06 - 19.
- ↑ «La UE se olvida de las compañías de apuestas por Internet». Consultado el 2010 - 06 - 19.
- ↑ «España, favorita en las casas de apuestas». Consultado el 2010 - 06 - 19.
- ↑ «Bwin, la casa de apuestas online con más usuarios de Europa». Consultado el 2010 - 06 - 19.
حفلة خاصه Dogmeat party
- Sent Today
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
- Thomas D'Amour and Dezi Desolata like your comment: "please look up demonition and make sure..." 12:45pm
-
- Dezi Desolata and Thomas D'Amour like your comment: "that would be a true second (see Dezi..." 11:58am
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
- Randall Kitty Davis and Miles Gregory like your comment: "there's only one thing better than..." 3:34am
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Mānoa: Be aware of driver exposing himself | University of Hawaii
Be aware of driver exposing himself to pedestrians
University of Hawaiʻi at MānoaContact:Posted: Aug. 30, 2011Campus Security is warning people who are walking to and from their cars parked in the residential area between University Avenue and Mānoa Road to be aware of a male driver who stops pedestrians, especially female students, on the pretense of asking for driving directions, who then exposes himself and masturbates.Today around noon, a student reported to Campus Security that she and a friend were walking to their car near College Hill, when a male driver stopped his vehicle to ask for directions to the freeway. The suspect spoke very softly, so the student moved closer to the car to better hear what he was saying. When the student looked down through the open window, she saw that the driver had exposed himself and was masturbating. The driver sped off when the student walked away.The suspect is described as in his 40s, with short blond hair and mustache, possibly weighing about 150 pounds. He wore a white shirt, khaki shorts and sunglasses. He may have been driving a “green Jeep or small SUV.”In an incident of this nature, Campus Security suggests the following:Be aware of your surroundings and trust your instincts. If you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, in any situation, act on that feeling. Your safety is the first priority.If you find yourself in this type of situation, even if the suspect has left the scene, call Campus Security and officers will respond to your location.Anyone with information relevant to this case is asked to call Campus Security at 956-6911.
August 30, 2011
ArtWank Trailer
ArtWank Trailer....Hello there and welcome to ArtWank; "a treasure trove of preposterous fixations and overeager excess: unhindered by political correctness" The Erotic Review
Fancy a riotous night of antique porn, ridiculous sexual cabaret and the occasional educational supplement from contemporary sex-workers? Well then it's lucky you stopped by! The emphasis is on the fun of sexuality; a healthy does of humour with your hank-panky with our tongues firmly in our cheeks....or yours. There's some saucy content here so please view at your discretion. We look forward to meeting you at one of our events soon. You can read reviews of ArtWank at The Erotic Review and at Coffee, Cake and Kink!Kisses
this some really good trailer
We're always one the sniff for interesting guest speakers, practitioners, pioneers and academics to dispense their shady wisdom to our loving audience.What's your pet topic? Do you work in the sex industry?
Do you have a radical thesis on the place of vegetables in intimate relationships?All suggestions welcome. We aim for a 15 minute mini-lecture/demonstration followed by an audience Q and A, but we're pretty flexible.....
Hot
Get your geek on...
Welcome!
Hair and sex have always been inextricably entwined | Erotic Review
Hair and sex have always been inextricably entwined. I could delve into the deep recesses of history here, and start blathering about Samson losing his virility when Delilah gave him a crew-cut, but I won’t because it means nothing to me. The name I want to bring to the forefront is a that of George Harrison Marks, who produced what then passed for pornographic magazines when I was first introduced to the idea that a hard-on was not an amusing means to piss on your own chin.
The son of the next-door-neighbours in the council flat I inhabited with my parents and younger brother was a sadist and sex-fiend. The former could be deduced by his habit of sending pet mice and hamsters to their deaths by hurling them from the top floor floor of the building – tenth or twelfth, I can’t remember which – attached to pet-sized parachutes of his own devising which never worked.
The latter was evidenced by a huge collection of small magazines that bore the imprimatur of Harrison Marks – he had dropped the “George” at this point, presumably for reasons of propriety. With a little persuasion – he was a passionately committed goalkeeper, myself a nonchalant goalscorer, and it was not difficult to rig one-on-one encounters where he saved the day – he would condescend to lend me one of these priceless publications. (They were priceless, by the way, because unavailable in any known newsagent. You had to know special places to get them and I didn’t have the addresses.)
I was only ever allowed to keep them for one night, because he thought I might steal them, even though I lived next door, a mere three feet away in council flat terms. The positive side of this arrangement was that I gave each precious periodical my undivided attention. What you must understand is that in the early 1960s, there was not much in the way of wank mags, and certainly nothing to tickle the fancy of a 13-year-old. Harrison Marks took pictures of women who looked ready
for sex – whatever that might involve - unlike the muscular babes in the naturist magazines who wanted to challenge you to a game of naked rockside badminton.
The only problem, which I discovered soon after, was that they were not anatomically accurate in the sense that the women had no hair on their lower private parts. In fact, to be more accurate still, they had no lower private parts. This was, in some ways, a cheap thrill. I well remember one evening watching a display of ice dancing on television with my father. Every time one of the little skirts lifted in a swirling turn, I thought I was seeing all there was to see. The girl ice dancer had forgotten – perhaps deliberately – to put her ice knickers on, and I was getting an eyeful. Poor dad, he was missing out.
In other ways, it was not such a good thing. My first meaningful encounter with a real, live girl – which I have lovingly recounted before for Erotic Review, and is now widely ridiculed as The Two Smartie Incident - was initially fraught because the girl was equipped with hair down there and a tiny chasm to boot, when I was expecting the smooth crotch of a mannequin. I got over the initial shock, as resourceful boys do, but in the modern world of Brazilians and Posh Spice shaving her growler when Beckham called, I have often wondered whether men ever really liked pubic hair at all.
Tretchikoff and the Real Blue Lady
Tretchikoff and the Real Blue Lady
Cabaret singer Tricity Vogue finds the artist who inspired her hit Edinburgh show, and the woman who was his muse
This article was first published in the Erotic Review: The Art Issue in February 2011 http://www.eroticreviewmagazine.com/On my bedroom wall is a 1960s framed print of a woman with a blue-green face, a golden Chinese gown, jet-black hair and startling red lips. I bought it on the Essex Road in North London from a shop called Past Caring. It cost me £70. My mum remembers when the same print sold in Boots the Chemist in Derby for 11 shillings and sixpence. She also remembers that it was the picture everyone wanted on their walls. The Chinese Girl was once better-selling than the Mona Lisa. Vladimir Tretchikoff, the painter, was compared to Picasso and Van Gogh: primarily by himself. The ubiquity of the image for over two decades was also primarily down to the artist himself, thanks to a combination of tireless self-promotion and bullet-proof self-belief. But then, when you’ve survived a revolution, a shipwreck and a Japanese prison-of-war camp, artistic world domination wouldn’t seem beyond you either.
I’ve spent two years painting my face blue in homage to Tretchikoff’s iconic image for my cabaret show The Blue Lady Sings. I had a sneaking suspicion that the man behind this stylised, high-impact portrait might be larger-than-life too, and I was right. Tretchi, as he was affectionately known, has all the ingredients for a quintessential artist profile. Deprivation and adversity: check. Volatile, quixotic temperament: check. Exotic muse and mistress: check. Plus vivid extras, including some uncannily accurate predictions at a séance, and a couple of brushes with death in a pink Cadillac. Tretchi lived his life in brighter colours than everyone else.
It was a long journey to the self-designed mansion in Cape Town where Tretchikoff died in 2006, and one that took in all five continents. It started in Kazakhstan, where he was born in 1913 to landed gentry, before the Russian revolution drove the family to China. There the now-penniless boy earned his keep as apprentice scene painter at the Harbon Opera House until he was sixteen, when the Chinese Eastern Railway commissioned him to paint portraits of Lenin and Sun Yat San for their headquarters, for the princely sum of 500 Roubles. Tretchi used the money to move to Shanghai. In the “Paris of the East” (as near to studying art in Paris as he ever got) young Vladimir bagged both a plum job, as cartoonist for the Shanghai Times, and a wife – fellow Russian émigré Natalie Telpregoff. The couple moved to Singapore in 1936, where Tretchi drew cartoons for the British Ministry of Information’s anti-Japanese propaganda. In 1938 he represented Malaya in the New York World’s Fair, and his daughter Mimi was born. Then the Japanese invaded Singapore and things took on a darker hue.
Natalie and Mimi made it out of Singapore, but Tretchikoff’s later boat was torpedoed while he was stoking the furnace. As the ship sank, he bagged the last place in the lifeboat when a woman thrust her baby into his arms. The forty two refugees rowed for their lives for Sumatra, only to discover the Japanese had beaten them to it. So Tretchi and a bunch of other survivors turned the boat around and rowed another nineteen days to Java, risking drowning, scurvy and starvation en route. Legend has it that Tretchi used drawings to barter with island tribesmen for the coconuts that kept them alive. Their safe arrival in Java palled somewhat when the terrified locals handed them straight over to the Japanese invaders, who’d got there first, again.
The Japanese hauled the whole boatload off to prisoner-of-war camp, but the five-foot-three artist was, like many small men throughout history, pugnacious by nature. Tretchi protested that he was a Russian citizen and the invaders had no right to hold him. They promptly threw him in solitary confinement, where he was stuck for three months. Then the prison camp general offered him conditional freedom – if he turned set-painter for a Japanese gala show. Tretchi basically painted his way out of jail.
Tretchi was living as a free man in Jakarta, and not only free, but also footloose, since his wife and child were somewhere on the other side of the world, if they were alive at all. Enter the beautiful Leonora Moltema, AKA Lenka, half Dutch, half Malaysian, and all woman. The Tretchikoff website describes Lenka as “a woman of culture and intelligence… an artist herself, and mistress of five languages”. The choice of word is apt, since Lenka was indeed Tretchi’s mistress as well as his muse and model. An elderly Tretchikoff told documentary filmmaker Yvonne du Toit in the 1990s that she was the love of his life.
Lenka told her own story to Uri Geller, a firm friend in later years, thanks to their shared interest in the supernatural. Her husband, a Dutch pilot, was, like Tretchi’s wife, somewhere overseas in limbo, and, on the night she first met Tretchikoff, he looked at her across the dinner table in an uncomfortable way, then asked her to pose for him naked. When she bridled at the suggestion, he laughed at her prudishness, telling her that only if every part of her figure was perfect would he consider painting her, and if he did, she would be a lucky woman. Lenka knew “the Mad Russian” already by reputation: by night he painted portraits for 40 guineas a canvas, but refused to sell the canvasses he painted for himself by day. She posed for him every Sunday in his tiny lodgings. It took longer to finish the picture than it did for Tretchi to get Lenka into his narrow bed.
The artist moved in with Lenka, but would only make love at weekends, because he claimed he was unable to paint for twenty four hours after sex. Even less congenially, their love-nest was continually raided by Japanese soldiers, convinced that Tretchi was a spy. One night he was arrested on suspicion of blowing up an oil tanker, and slashed with a ceremonial sword during the interrogation. The superstitious Lenka visited a wise-woman and promised to give up what was most precious to her in exchange for Tretchi’s freedom. When he was released without charge two days later, she gave the old woman her most valuable batik.
But was the batik Lenka’s most precious treasure, or Tretchi himself? It wasn’t long before she had to give him up too. It began when she took him to a séance, at which the previously sceptical painter asked the spirit guide where his wife and child were. The answer came back: S.O.U.T.H. Tretchi subsequently put the Red Cross on the trail of the supernatural tip-off and tracked down his family in South Africa. But before leaving the séance, the artist had a few more questions for the spirits. “Will I become a famous painter, and how far will my fame spread?” W.O.R.L.D. “What will be my most famous painting?” O.R.I.E.N.T.A.L. L.A.D.Y.
Lenka disappears from the official biography of Vladimir Tretchikoff as soon as he set off for Cape Town to be reunited with his wife and daughter. But that is no way to write out a muse from any artist’s story. Luckily she herself has shared a little more with her friend Uri Geller. Tretchikoff went to South Africa with her blessing because, she said, she could compete with any woman but not with his child. She even helped him pack his canvasses, which he’d been hoarding for years ready for the one-man exhibition that he was certain would make his fortune. Lenka extracted one promise from him: to give a canvas to his wife Natalie. He did, and the canvas she chose was the portrait of Lenka wearing a red jacket. “Wearing”, that is, in the loosest sense, since all it covers are her shoulders. Did Natalie know that Lenka had been Tretchi’s de facto wife throughout the war years? Why did she choose to have her love rival’s triumphant breasts pertly waving at her from the wall every day?
Tretchi’s portrait of his mistress is in stark contrast to the portrait of his wife. Like so much of the artist’s work, subtlety doesn’t come into it. Whereas Lenka is a feast of warm naked flesh set off by a “scarlet woman’s” jacket, Natalie The Artists Wife is clad in brown, with skin of a blueish tinge, in arguably Tretchikoff’s drabbest colour scheme ever. Vladimir boasted that living with him was sometimes heaven, sometimes hell, but usually purgatory. “Longsuffering” is the word that springs to mind looking at the portrait of his wife. Who knows? Perhaps his muse Lenka had other reasons for “giving him up”. Maybe two years of keeping house for a fastidious and demanding artist were enough for her.
What’s more, when Tretchikoff took off with his hoarded canvasses on his phenomenally successful world tour (as predicted by the spirit guides, and funded by the spiritualist Rosecrucian Order, in a self-fulfilling prophecy), he was not constrained by the need to paint during the day, and was therefore able to cast off sexual abstention. So Tretchi hooked up with his old flame again in London in 1958. While over 200, 000 people flocked to his one-man exhibition in Harrods, Tretchi took Lenka to bed for what she described as a four-day lovemaking marathon. That’s when Tretchi confessed to his mistress that he had sold the Red Jacket painting, even though theoretically it belonged to his wife so wasn’t his to sell. Lenka was appalled and warned him he would have bad luck without her portrait.
Tretchi took no notice of his mistress’s warning, but not long after his return to South Africa, his pink Cadillac overturned in a road accident. It took a transfusion of 20 pints of blood to bring him back from death’s door. Still Tretchi didn’t buy back the portrait of Lenka until he was nearly killed a second time in another car crash. Then finally he conceded his muse might have a point, reacquired Red Jacket for his wife, and lived to be 92.
As for the Chinese Girl - the painting I bring to life in my cabaret show, and the one looking down at me mysteriously from my bedroom wall – it isn’t Lenka. At least, not officially. The first model for the painting was said to be a member of South Africa’s Chinese community. But according to other accounts, the painting, completed in 1950, was begun in Java in 1946, before Tretchikoff got to South Africa. To complicate matters further, the portrait we know is not of the first sitter anyway. The original canvas of the Chinese Girl was slashed, along with 14 others, when intruders broke into Tretchi’s Cape Town home, enraged by the artist’s controversial drawing Black and White, which caused outrage throughout Apartheid South Africa.
The second model for the Chinese Girl was reputedly the daughter of a restaurant owner in San Francisco. Yet there is something Eurasian about the features of the woman with the blue-green face in the painting. By 1950 when he finished the picture, Tretchikoff had been apart from his half-Dutch, half-Malaysian muse for four years. And South Africa was a long way from the oriental lands where he had first found the inspiration to paint. Tretchikoff himself said his paintings were not real women’s portraits, but a fantasy of womanhood from his own imagination. Whoever sat for him in a golden Chinese brocade gown, whether in South Africa or in San Francisco, the real “blue” woman who epitomised longing and absence in the artist’s imagination wasn’t either of them. It was Lenka, the woman who wasn’t there.
Tricity Vogue’s debut album, The Blue Lady Sings is available from her website: tricityvogue.com
Her one-woman show will appear at the Brighton Fringe Festival in May 2011, and the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August 2011.Photograph of Tretchikoff and Lenka by kind permission of Yvonne du Toit
All other pictures by kind permission of the Tretchikoff Foundation
