First we looked at the great landscapes painted with the early Impressionist techniques. I found new-to-me artists that I liked. I'll post different paintings and sculptures as I have time. I'm still evacuated from Black Mountain NC after hurricane Helene devastated the area.
I admit that the iPhone camera did change some of the coloration and contrast in paintings. I'd hold it in front of the painting and be surprised how a dark moody scene became more reasonable. So I have just left all the paintings as they were captured. I worked a bit to bring the sculptures into visibility, since some were behind glass with reflections, and some were lit completely from above, thus had shadows that inhibited really seeing their beauty.
Here's the next line of photos from my editing program. Descriptions are above illustrations.
A BRAVE AND STARTLING TRUTH
by Maya Angelou
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth
And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms
When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil
When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze
When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse
When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets
Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world
When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe
We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear
When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.
History goes deep.
Clovy Tsuchiya's pottery is song captured in a vessel. Clovy shapes stoneware into curvy forms that suggest Art Nouveau, flights of fantasy, and the longing for nature in all our hearts. Clovy's forms stand out in the field of contemporary functional pottery. Each one is carefully developed over time and iteration into something both functional and distinctive. Sweeping curves and poetic lines suggest the movements of wind and water, a dolphin leaping in the waves, a butterfly flitting amongst flowers, a colonial organism growing into something complex and dazzling, like the symphony of lives that make a coral reef. Clovy calls this work Zygoplasia, an exploration of the vessel as a complex thing formed of smaller, well-thought parts, each tailored perfectly to its purpose in forming the eventual grandeur of the whole. Soda and reduction-fired, the pots take on atmospheric dimension and a wonderful sheen, bringing Clovy's arresting creations to life..
from Charlie Cummings Gallery, Gainesville FL
Here is the gallery of Clovy Tsuchiya's work. I was impressed by the reasonable prices also.
Mug with saucer and spoon.
Today's quote:
It is through gratitude for the present moment that the spiritual dimension of life opens up. |
ECKHART TOLLE |
A fantastic woman ceramic artist, who I just discovered. Annette Corcoran appeared in Facebook last year, and I was surprised to see it return in my "memories" listing today. I didn't remember showing these beautiful teapots last year, sharing another's post.
When I went to her web page, 2017 was the latest update...with these beautiful works. I know she was in her 80s (like me today) and hope she is well. What a talented artist in clay!
Today's quote:
This is a time for straying, for losing one’s way, for asking new questions. A sacred activism. A slowing down that knows enchantment is not in short supply. |
BAYO AKOMOLAFE |
I subscribe to a newsletter called the Marginalian by Maria Popova. She's a genius, and can edit together monumental ideas which often overwhelm me.
Last week, there were quotes of an interesting person, Ruth Allen.
Popova says:
The vital interplay between boundaries and growth, the catalytic function of limits, the way we hone our lives on the edges of the possible, is what geologist turned psychotherapist Ruth Allen explores in her uncommonly wonderful book Weathering
And this is one of the quotes from Allen's book:
As humans, we have a confused relationship with edges, boundaries and limitations, which can be seen as one and the same thing, unified paradoxically by their dividing potential… We seek them even when, as a psychological or relational construct, we recoil from their necessity, and will often find ourselves drawn to and entranced by the water’s edge: the shifting line between sand and sea, the horror of the cliff’s edge. Our pull towards edges is magnetic, our playfulness around them notable. We are compelled to edges, boundaries and limits, like an intrusive thought that we don’t want but can’t resist going towards… Edges are, in some ways, an embodiment of the core dilemma about how to live, and how to live under the spectre of death. Boundaries say here is OK, but beyond is the insistent abyss, and I am curious about that. Limits give us a place to challenge ourselves and triumph over. They provide an opportunity for growth, where going beyond a limit can test our courage, expand our hitherto unknown ability, and consolidate our resilience for yet another new horizon that appears as we pass through what’s now behind us. In short, edges are frontiers where we find ourselves.
I've often considered how powerful edges of nature are...they've interested me deeply. Consider where the ocean meets land. Or just where the side of a lake or stream is cupped by the land. And then there are the mountains. We scamper along on their backs, to suddenly come to an outcrop where everything just stops, where we can look out for miles and see things that are completely unaware of our beings.
I'm thinking of my physical/medical limitations more these days. They create a stopping point, a new place where I shall not go beyond. I have to accept it and dwell within it's little cage, but I can still see out and know that a vast universe is there where I cannot go any more. However I can still reach out through blogs, through Facebook, through my creativity with photography and sculpting in clay. So from this little handicap, I am finding ways to connect still with others.
I moved to the mountains where I had wonderful memories of hikes to waterfalls. But between the time I hiked in the Smoky Mountain National Park in the early 90s, and the 2007 date when I finally retired, I had acquired COPD. My lungs wouldn't let me go far distances, especially at higher elevations. And the doctors jumped to that conclusion because I'd once smoked cigarettes for about 6 years, one pack a day. I occasionally also smoked pot, maybe once a week for about the same years.
My edge/boundary is still to stretch beyond my comfort zone, to do something I haven't done before.
Today I'm getting up before dawn, meeting a friend who will drive us up onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. At first our plan was to see the dawn. But then we learned that there are 5 planets in conjunction with the moon. So we will also look for them! I haven't seen a dawn (on purpose) for many many years. Having a car, a folding chair to enjoy sitting and waiting, and warm clothes...I'm really excited about this adventure.
LOVE AFTER LOVE
by Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Today's quote:
When it’s over, I want to say all my life I was a bride married to amazement. |
MARY OLIVER |
Venus figure created about 25,000 years ago from the Kostenki - Borshevo region on the Don River, north of the Black Sea.
However, I contest the "Venus" naming; see my article "They Are Not Venus Figurines" https://www.suppressedhistories.net/articles/notvenusfigurines.html By Max Dashu on FB
A new exhibit at the Center for the Arts.
Hickory
