In the 1950’s nature wasn’t enough. Every seaside resort wanted some magic to attract visitors. Miniature worlds were one way to provide this. Illuminations another. Combinations of the two were especially potent.
After a day on the beach, and an evening meal, we’d head out again, usually going to a park where illuminated creatures would run up and down tree trunks or jump from one branch to another. These were usually squirrels, rabbits and birds rather than more exotic animals. We’d linger until the sun set, waiting for the illuminations to be seen at their best. Exciting to be out after dark.
In this photo Stephen and I both look enchanted. The original photo is tiny, and I was sure these were fairies, but now I see they are ballerinas. I had a musical jewellery box where a ballerina spun around when you opened the lid. These tutu clad dancers are lively. Their creator has got the lines right. Arms and hands are extended and elegant. You can almost hear the music. I’m looking at my dad, but keeping half an eye on them.
As a child I was afraid of the dark. Here the night welcomed us into its realm. There was still an element of danger, but I wasn’t on the lookout for monsters, only for the next glowing plant or creature. There was usually a route to follow with narrow winding paths and small bridges. We were determined to see everything.
All such magic owed something to Disney. The first Disneyland had opened in California in 1955. Perhaps Disney took some inspiration from these older, less ambitious pleasure parks. The magic was simpler. A bit of wonder at electricity still lingers. Human ingenuity could remake the world and create an enchanted childhood. Here fairyland was never forlorn.
Although they are miniature ballerinas, without wings, I still see them as fairies. My brother looks less convinced. He was more enthused by pirate ships and buried treasure.
After a day on the beach, and an evening meal, we’d head out again, usually going to a park where illuminated creatures would run up and down tree trunks or jump from one branch to another. These were usually squirrels, rabbits and birds rather than more exotic animals. We’d linger until the sun set, waiting for the illuminations to be seen at their best. Exciting to be out after dark.
In this photo Stephen and I both look enchanted. The original photo is tiny, and I was sure these were fairies, but now I see they are ballerinas. I had a musical jewellery box where a ballerina spun around when you opened the lid. These tutu clad dancers are lively. Their creator has got the lines right. Arms and hands are extended and elegant. You can almost hear the music. I’m looking at my dad, but keeping half an eye on them.
As a child I was afraid of the dark. Here the night welcomed us into its realm. There was still an element of danger, but I wasn’t on the lookout for monsters, only for the next glowing plant or creature. There was usually a route to follow with narrow winding paths and small bridges. We were determined to see everything.
All such magic owed something to Disney. The first Disneyland had opened in California in 1955. Perhaps Disney took some inspiration from these older, less ambitious pleasure parks. The magic was simpler. A bit of wonder at electricity still lingers. Human ingenuity could remake the world and create an enchanted childhood. Here fairyland was never forlorn.
Although they are miniature ballerinas, without wings, I still see them as fairies. My brother looks less convinced. He was more enthused by pirate ships and buried treasure.