March Offerings – Part XXX: Something to Delight both Head and Heart

American art – Part I of V: Deladier Almeida

Artist Statement: “The way my painting comes out is a function of the way I attack it. I have to work on the edge of my rational mind.”

Below – “Geometry Harvest”; “Relative”; “Heirloom-Bend”; “Watermelon”; “Applet.”
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A Poem for Today

“Museum of Childhood”
By Joyce Peseroff

Dad didn’t play the ponies
or manic games at night;

Mom was addicted
only to her soaps. Sisters

at war never swore.
Silence was genius

of an era, nothing
personal. Our hidden grief

shadowed the Fifties’ sunshine
like Eisenhower’s speech

against the military-industrial
complex, like playground

platoons still blowing up Japs.
Thanksgiving comes late

in this museum of childhood,
flower painted at the bottom

of a porcelain teacup:
cracked saucer, no sugar, no milk.

Below – Andrea Banjac: “Childhood Memories”
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“All the world’s a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed.” – Sean O’Casey, Irish dramatist, memoirist, socialist, and author of “The Plough and the Stars,” who was born 30 March 1880.

Some quotes from the work of Sean O’Casey:

“There’s no reason to bring religion into it. I think we ought to have as great a regard for religion as we can, so as to keep it out of as many things as possible.”
“Money does not make you happy but it quiets the nerves.”
“No man is so old as to believe he cannot live one more year.”
“The hallway of every man’s life is paced with pictures; pictures gay and pictures gloomy, all useful, for if we be wise, we can learn from them a richer and braver way to live.”
“Wealth often takes away chances from men as well as poverty. There is none to tell the rich to go on striving, for a rich man makes the law that hallows and hollows his own life.”
“I have found life an enjoyable, enchanting, active, and sometime terrifying experience, and I’ve enjoyed it completely. A lament in one ear, maybe, but always a song in the other.”
“It’s my rule never to lose me temper till it would be detrimental to keep it.”
“Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity.”
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Fancies in Springtime: Chinese Proverb

“Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come.”
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“There is only one absinthe drinker, and that’s the man who painted this idiotic picture.” – Thomas Couture, French artist, who died 30 March 1879, commenting on both Edouard Manet and his painting “Absinthe Drinker.”

Below – Manet’s “Absinthe Drinker”; Couture’s “Daydreams” and “Roman in the Decadence of Empire.”
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A Second Poem for Today

“Healing Gila”
By Lawson Fusao Inada

‘for The People’

The people don’t mention it much.
It goes without saying,
it stays without saying—

that concentration camp
on their reservation.

And they avoid that massive site
as they avoid contamination—

that massive void
punctuated by crusted nails,
punctured pipes, crumbled
failings of foundations . . .

What else is there to say?

This was a lush land once,
graced by a gifted people
gifted with the wisdom
of rivers, seasons, irrigation.

The waters went flowing
through a network of canals
in the delicate workings
of balances and health . . .

What else is there to say?

Then came the nation.
Then came the death.

Then came the desert.
Then came the camp.

But the desert is not deserted.
It goes without saying,
it stays without saying—

wind, spirits, tumbleweeds, pain.

Below –Eleanor Roosevelt at Gila River, Arizona Japanese-American Internment Center; Japanese-American Girl Scouts at the Center.
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From the Music Archives – Part I of II: John Lee Curtis “Sonny Boy” Williamson

“Sugar mama sugar mama, please come back to me
Bring my granulated sugar, and ease my misery . . .” – John Lee Curtis “Sonny Boy” Williamson, American blues harmonica player and singer, who was born 30 March 1914.

Fancies in Springtime: Annie Dillard

“I want to think about trees. Trees have a curious relationship to the subject of the present moment. There are many created things in the universe that outlive us, that outlive the sun, even, but I can’t think about them. I live with trees. There are creatures under our feet, creatures that live over our heads, but trees live quite convincingly in the same filament of air we inhabit, and in addition, they extend impressively in both directions, up and down, shearing rock and fanning air, doing their real business just out of reach.”
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In the words of one writer, Chinese-Canadian painter Helena Lam
“is inspired by the Art Deco era. This is a design style that blossomed in Paris in the 1920’s and flourished internationally throughout the 1930’s, into the World War II era. The style influenced all areas of design, including architecture, interior design, industrial design, fashion, jewelry as well as the visual arts such as painting, graphic arts and film. At it’s zenith, Art Deco embodied elegance, glamour, functionality and modernity.”
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Fancies in Springtime: Mark Twain

“The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven not man’s.”
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“We learn the rope of life by untying its knots.” – Jean Toomer, American novelist, poet, an important member of the Harlem Renaissance, and author of “Cane,” who died 30 March 1967.

Some quotes from the work of Jean Toomer:

“Thank everyone who calls out your faults, your anger, your impatience, your egotism; do this consciously, voluntarily.”
“We do not posses imagination enough to sense what we are missing.”
“If you have heard a Jewish cantor sing, if he has touched you and made your own sorrow seem trivial when compared with his, you will know my feeling when I follow the curves of her profile, like mobile rivers, to their common delta.”
“Night winds in Georgia are vagrant poets, whispering.”
“Acceptance of prevailing standards often means we have no standards of our own.”
“It takes a well-spent lifetime, and perhaps more, to crystalize in us that for which we exist.”
“Talk about it only enough to do it. Dream about it only enough to feel it. Think about it only enough to understand it. Contemplate it only enough to be it.”
“Call them from their houses, and teach them to dream.”
“Dusk, suggesting the almost imperceptible possession of giant trees, settled with a purple haze about the cane. I felt strange, as I always do in Georgia, particularly at dusk. I felt that things unseen to men were tangibly immediate. It would not have surprised me had I had a vision.”
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American art – Part II of V: Paul Balmer

In the words of one writer, “Translating the energy, detail, and innovative perspective of his renowned cityscapes to classic still-lifes, Paul Balmer has created a new body of work on a breathtaking scale. Monumental, vibrant canvases immerse the viewer in striking yet casual arrangements of fruit and dishware poised as if on a giant gameboard, each geometric element balancing the others against patterned placemats and tablecloths in a palette reminiscent of summer celebrations, alive with yellows, oranges, blues and greens.”

Below – “City Lights”; “Pastures”; “Cooking Lessons”; “East River”; “Sun Passing Over.”
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A Third Poem for Today

“Poem for My Twentieth Birthday”
By Kenneth Koch

Passing the American graveyard, for my birthday
the crosses stuttering, white on tropical green,
the years’ quick focus of faces I do not remember . . .

The palm trees stalking like deliberate giants
for my birthday, and all the hot adolescent memories
seen through a screen of water . . .

For my birthday thrust into the adult and actual:
expected to perform the action, not to ponder
the reality beyond the fact,
the man standing upright in the dream.
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Fancies in Springtime: Luther Burbank

“Flowers always make people better, happier, and more helpful; they are sunshine, food and medicine to the mind.”
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Born 30 March 1853 – Vincent van Gogh, a Post-Impressionist Dutch artist whose work was ignored during most of his lifetime.
30 March 1987 – Vincent van Gogh’s “Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers” sells at auction for $39.7 million.

Below – “Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers”; “The Red Vineyard”; “The Night Café”; “Bedroom in Arles”; “Wheat Fields”; “Starry Night over the Rhone.”
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From the Music Archives – Part II of II: Eric Clapton

“Given the choice between accomplishing something and just lying around, I’d rather lie around. No contest.” – Eric Clapton, English musician, singer, and songwriter, who was born 30 March 1945.

A Fourth Poem for Today

“Packing the Car for Our Western Camping Trip”
By Jane Varley

What we will remember—we tried to take the dog,
packed around him, making a cozy spot
at the back of the Subaru, blocking out the sun,
resisting the obvious—
he was too old, he would not make it.
And when he died in Minnesota,
we smelled and smelled his paws,
arthritic and untouchable these last many years,
took those marvelous paws up into our faces.
They smelled of dark clay
and sweet flower bloom decay.
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Fancies in Springtime: John Grogan

“Such short little lives our pets have to spend with us, and they spend most of it waiting for us to come home each day.
It is amazing how much love and laughter they bring into our lives and even how much closer we become with each other because of them.”
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Here is one critic describing the artistry of Japanese painter Kozo Izawa (born 1956): “Kozo Izawa consistently draws very simple, pared down images; girls or poinsettia stand in a space, where we cannot distinguish the time of day. The image is at once realistic and surrealistic. Girls seem to inhabit both the earthly and the spirit realms. Izawa has created an ambiguous and mysterious world where a clear meaning is elusive. His work is a mirror reflecting the viewer’s state of mind.”
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“There’s nothing worse than an introspective drunk.” – Tom Sharpe, English satirical novelist and author of the “Wilt” series, who was born 30 March 1928.

Some quotes from the work of Tom Sharpe:

“I don’t consider myself bald, I’m just taller than my hair.”
“There’s nothing I enjoy more than listening to a highly trained intelligence leapfrogging common sense and coming to the wrong conclusions. It gives me renewed faith in parliamentary democracy.”
“His had been an intellectual decision founded on his conviction that if a little knowledge was a dangerous thing, a lot was lethal.”
“The man who said the pen was mightier than the sword ought to have tried reading ‘The Mill on the Floss’ to Motor Mechanics.”
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A Fifth Poem for Today

“Back from the Fields”
By Peter Everwine

Until nightfall my son ran in the fields,
looking for God knows what.
Flowers, perhaps. Odd birds on the wing.
Something to fill an empty spot.
Maybe a luminous angel
or a country girl with a secret dark.
He came back empty-handed,
or so I thought.

Now I find them:
thistles, goatheads,
the barbed weeds
all those with hooks or horns
the snaggle-toothed, the grinning ones
those wearing lantern jaws,
old ones in beards, leapers
in silk leggings, the multiple
pocked moons and spiny satellites, all those
with juices and saps
like the fingers of thieves
nation after nation of grasses
that dig in, that burrow, that hug winds
and grab handholds
in whatever lean place.

It’s been a good day.
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Fancies in Springtime: William Shakespeare

“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”
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Vietnamese artist Vu Thu Hien (born 1970) is a graduate of the Hanoi Academy of Fine Arts. In the words of one critic, “Vu Thu Hien’s watercolours are delicate, dreamlike, and at times haunting. Many of her paintings refer to the soul, to spirits and the afterlife. Her traditionally clothed figures are mysterious and real at the same time and are often embodiments of the spirits that influence human lives. Hien paints on dzo paper, made from mulberry bark, which is fragile and durable at the same time. Used by Vietnam’s ethnic minorities for altar paintings or inscribing Buddhist sutras, it is the perfect medium for Hien’s deeply spiritual art.”
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“It is important for me that the new generation of Cambodians and Cambodian-Americans become active and tell the world what happened to them and their families … I want them never to forget the faces of their relatives and friends who were killed during that time. The dead are crying out for justice.” – Dith Pran, Cambodian photojournalist, survivor of the Cambodian genocide, and the subject of the Academy Award-winning film “The Killing Fields” (1984), who died 30 March 2008.

Below – Dith Pran; part of the killing fields in Cambodia; an excavation of a mass grave in Cambodia.
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A Sixth Poem for Today

“The Word That Is a Prayer”
By Ellery Akers

One thing you know when you say it:
all over the earth people are saying it with you;
a child blurting it out as the seizures take her,
a woman reciting it on a cot in a hospital.
What if you take a cab through the Tenderloin:
at a street light, a man in a wool cap,
yarn unraveling across his face, knocks at the window;
he says, ‘Please.’
By the time you hear what he’s saying,
the light changes, the cab pulls away,
and you don’t go back, though you know
someone just prayed to you the way you pray.
‘Please’: a word so short
it could get lost in the air
as it floats up to God like the feather it is,
knocking and knocking, and finally
falling back to earth as rain,
as pellets of ice, soaking a black branch,
collecting in drains, leaching into the ground,
and you walk in that weather every day.
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Fancies in Springtime: Jarod Kintz

“Roses may say ‘I love you,’ but the cactus says ‘Fuck off.’”
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Spanish Art – Part I of II: Francisco Jose de Goya

“Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.” – Francisco Jose de Goya, Spanish painter and printmaker, who was born 30 March 1746.

Below – “The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters” (from “Los Caprichos”); “The Third of May 1808”; “The Nude Maja”; “The Clothed Maja”; “What More Can We Do?” (from “The Disasters of War”).
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From the American History Archives – Part I of II: The Alaska Purchase

30 March 1867 – After an all-night session that concluded at 4 a.m., representatives of Russia and U. S. Secretary of State William H. Seward sign a treaty in which the United States agrees to purchase Alaska for $7.2 million, or about 2 cents per acre. Some members of Congress and the press ridiculed the purchase as “Seward’s folly” and “Seward’s icebox.”

Below – William H. Seward; the signing of the Alaska Treaty of Cessation on 30 March 1867: (Left to Right) Robert S. Chew, William H. Seward, William Hunter, Mr. Bodisco, Eduard de Stoeckl (Russian diplomat), Charles Sumner, and Frederick W. Seward.
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Fancies in Springtime: Seneca

“When you enter a grove peopled with ancient trees, higher than the ordinary, and shutting out the sky with their thickly inter-twined branches, do not the stately shadows of the wood, the stillness of the place, and the awful gloom of this doomed cavern then strike you with the presence of a deity?”

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A Seventh Poem for Today

“Night Dive”
By Peggy Shumaker

Plankton rise toward the full moon
spread thin on Wakaya’s surface.
Manta rays’ great curls of jaw
scoop backward somersaults of ocean
in through painted caves of their mouths, out
through sliced gills. Red sea fans
pulse. The leopard shark
lounges on a smooth ramp of sand,
skin jeweled with small hangers-on.
Pyramid fish point the way to the surface.

Ninety feet down, blue ribbon eels cough,
their mouths neon cautions.
Ghost pipefish curl in the divemaster’s palm.
Soft corals unfurl rainbow polyps, thousands
of mouths held open to night.
Currents’ communion—giant clams
slam shut wavy jaws, send
shivers of water. Christmas tree worms
snap back, flat spirals tight,
living petroglyphs against the night.
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Spanish Art – Part II of II: Jordi Diaz Alama

Painter Jordi Diaz Alama (born 1986) describes himself as “a concept painter and a traditional artist.”
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From the American History Archives – Part II of II: Fred Korematsu

“I was just living my life, and that’s what I wanted to do.” – Fred Korematsu, Japanese-American civil rights activist, who died 30 March 2005.

Rather than accept internment in a camp in compliance with Executive Order 9066, Japanese-American citizen Fred Korematsu became a fugitive in 1942 and was eventually arrested. After World War II ended, he argued against the legality of both his arrest and the Executive Order. In the words of one historian, “However, the legality of the internment order was upheld by the United States Supreme Court in Korematsu v. United States (1944), but Korematsu’s conviction was overturned decades later after the disclosure of new evidence challenging the necessity of the internment, which had been withheld from the courts by the U.S. government during the war.”
Subsequent legislation declared that government actions were based on “race prejudice, war hysteria, and a failure of political leadership.” The U.S. government eventually disbursed more than $1.6 billion in reparations to Japanese Americans who had been interned and their heirs.
In the words of one writer, “To commemorate his journey as a civil rights activist, the “Fred Korematsu Day of Civil Liberties and the Constitution” was observed for first time on January 30, 2011, by the state of California, and first such commemoration for an Asian-American in the US.”

Below – Fred Korematsu wearing the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
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Fancies in Springtime: John James Audubon

“A true conservationist is a man who knows that the world is not given by his fathers, but borrowed from his children.”
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An Eighth Poem for Today

“Home Again, Home Again”
By Marilyn L. Taylor

The children are back, the children are back—
They’ve come to take refuge, exhale and unpack;
The marriage has faltered, the job has gone bad,
Come open the door for them, Mother and Dad.

The city apartment is leaky and cold,
The landlord lascivious, greedy and old—
The mattress is lumpy, the oven’s encrusted,
The freezer, the fan, and the toilet have rusted.

The company caved, the boss went broke,
The job and the love affair, all up in smoke.
The anguish of loneliness comes as a shock—
‘O heart in the doldrums, O heart in hock.’

And so they return with their piles of possessions,
Their terrified cats and their mournful expressions,
Reclaiming the bedrooms they had in their teens,
Clean towels, warm comforter, glass figurines.

Downstairs in the kitchen the father and mother
Don’t say a word, but they look at each other
As down from the hill comes Jill, comes Jack.
‘The children are back. The children are back.’
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American Art – Part III of V: Jo Davidson

“My approach to my subjects was very simple. I never had them pose, we just talked about everything in the world.” – Jo Davidson, American sculptor who worked in terra-cotta, marble, and bronze, who was born 30 March 1883.

Below – Robinson Jeffers standing beside his bust; Walt Whitman; Gertrude Stein; Abraham Lincoln; James Joyce; Albert Einstein.
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“The awful thing, as a kid reading, was that you came to the end of the story, and that was it. I mean, it would be heartbreaking that there was no more of it.” – Robert Creeley, American poet, who died 30 March 2005.

“The Rain”

All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quiet, persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it

that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this,
something not so insistent—
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.
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Russian Art – Part I of II: Svetlana Tiourina

Russian painter Svetlana Tiourina has lived and worked in Amsterdam since 1994.
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Fancies in Springtime: Richard Dawkins

“Science is the poetry of reality.”
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Russian Art – Part II of II: Victoria Kalaichi

Painter Victoria Kalaichi was born in the Russian Republic of Alania in 1986. She is a graduate of the Crimean Art College.
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“Every parent is at some time the father of the unreturned prodigal, with nothing to do but keep his house open to hope.” – John Ciardi, American poet, etymologist, translator of Dante’s “Divine Comedy,” co-author of “How Does a Poem Mean?” (with Miller Williams), and recipient of the 1956 Prix de Rome, who died 30 March 1986.

“Men Marry What They Need”

Men marry what they need.
I marry you, 
morning by morning, day by day, night by night, 

and every marriage makes this marriage new. 



In the broken name of heaven, in the light 

that shatters granite, by the spitting shore, 

in air that leaps and wobbles like a kite, 



I marry you from time and a great door 

is shut and stays shut against wind, sea, stone, 

sunburst, and heavenfall. And home once more 



inside our walls of skin and struts of bone, 

man-woman, woman-man, and each the other, 

I marry you by all dark and all dawn 



and have my laugh at death. Why should I bother

the flies about me? Let them buzz and do. 

Men marry their queen, their daughter, or their mother 



by hidden names, but that thin buzz whines through: 

where reasons are no reason, cause is true. 

Men marry what they need. I marry you.
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American Art – Part IV of V: Melissa Chandon

Artist Statement: ““I am still captivated by the ideal of the holiday or vacation. Or perhaps it’s just simple pleasures that I relish. The simple row boat, the backyard pool, the tail-fin of a highly designed car from my parents’ generation.”

Below – “Lake Dock”; “Cottages with Sand Dunes”; “LA Trailer in White”; “Stilt House in Pink”; “Case Study House #22”; “Castle Lake Canoe.”
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Fancies in Springtime: Woodrow Wilson

“If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience.”
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A Ninth Poem for Today

“Brief Eden”
By Lois Beebe Hayna

For part of one strange year we lived
in a small house at the edge of a wood.
No neighbors, which suited us. Nobody
to ask questions. Except
for the one big question we went on
asking ourselves.
That spring
myriads of birds stopped over
briefly. Birds we’d never seen before, drawn
to our leafy quiet and our brook and because,
as we later learned, the place lay beneath
a flyway. Flocks appeared overnight—birds
brilliant or dull, with sharp beaks
or crossed bills, birds small
and enormous, all of them pausing
to gorge at the feeder, to rest their wings,
and disappear. Each flock seemed surer than we
of a destination. By the time we’d watched them
wing north in spring, then make
an anxious autumn return,
we too had pulled it together and we too moved
into what seemed to be our lives.
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Fancies in Springtime: Jonathan Renshaw

“First, the wind would rumble in the distance like an approaching river, then he would see grass bend, pressed by a great invisible hand. The dull rumble would rise in pitch to a swishing, lashing exultation, causing stalks to lie flat against the ground while the tougher branches of shrubs held themselves up and shrieked their defiance in the gusts. Then the first drops, cold and heavy, would plummet from the sky and burst on the ground.”
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Back from the Territory – Art: The work of Alaska artist Michelle Morrell

In the words of one writer, “Michelle Morrell has been painting and printing in southeast Alaska for the past twenty years. Arriving first in Ketchikan with a very small child and with oil paints, she switched to watercolor and acrylic and began producing relief prints. In 1997 she began painting and building ceramic pieces. She has sold her prints through galleries in Juneau, Sitka and Ketchikan since 1985. She was very active in an arts and crafts guild while in Sitka and had participated in many juried and judged shows.
The life forms and scenery of Southeast Alaska are her chief subjects, although she particularly enjoys drawing and painting children. She uses a variety of media including ceramics. Her style has been described as a rounding and curving of forms, including those that at first glance appear angular.
Michelle and her husband, John, live in Juneau, Alaska where presently they both work for the US Forest Service. They have a daughter, Jennifer, who is a graduate of Cornish College of Arts in Seattle. The family enjoys boating and fishing in Southeast, Alaska.”

Back from the Territory, I share this with you, before I light out again.

Below – “Islet”; “Tufted Puffins”; “Loons”; “Pin Cushion”; “Babes”; “Night Voices”; “Spring.”
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A Tenth Poem for Today

“Remaking a Neglected Orchard”
By Nathaniel Perry

It was a good idea, cutting away
the vines and ivy, trimming back
the chest-high thicket lazy years
had let grow here. Though it wasn’t for lack

of love for the trees, I’d like to point out.
Years love trees in a way we can’t
imagine. They just don’t use the fruit
like us; they want instead the slant

of sun through narrow branches, the buckshot
of rain on these old cherries. And we,
now that I think on it, want those
things too, we just always and desperately

want the sugar of the fruit, the best
we’ll get from this irascible land:
sweetness we can gather for years,
new stains staining the stains on our hands.
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Fancies in Springtime: Edna St. Vincent Millay

“I will be the gladdest thing under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.”
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American art – Part V of V: David Bromley

Artist Statement: “I find my imagery poignant in so many ways
 and a wonderful vehicle for telling tales of what it is to be alive 
and to be on a journey that is our life.”

Below – “Winter Butterflies”; “Singing Birds”; “Butterflies and Flowers (Diptych)”; “Laura”; “Winter.”
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