From the Pacific Northwest – Part LXXII

Musings in Winter: E.B. White

“I see nothing in space as promising as the view from a Ferris wheel.”

White

Art for Winter – Part I of II: Wilson Henry Irvine (American, 1869-1936)

Below – “A Day in March”

Irvine

A Poem for Today

“Dusting”
By Marilyn Nelson

Thank you for these tiny
particles of ocean salt,
pearl-necklace viruses,
winged protozoans:
for the infinite,
intricate shapes
of submicroscopic
living things.

For algae spores
and fungus spores,
bonded by vital
mutual genetic cooperation,
spreading their
inseparable lives
from equator to pole.

My hand, my arm,
make sweeping circles.
Dust climbs the ladder of light.
For this infernal, endless chore,
for these eternal seeds of rain:
Thank you. For dust.

Nelson

Art for Winter – Part II of II: Alexander Robertson James

Below – “Woodstock Street, Woodstock, NH”

James

Musings in Winter:George Moore

“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.”

Moore

A Second Poem for Today

“My House, I Say”
By Robert Louis Stevenson

My house, I say. But hark to the sunny doves
That make my roof the arena of their loves,
That gyre about the gable all day long
And fill the chimneys with their murmurous song:
Our house, they say; and mine, the cat declares
And spreads his golden fleece upon the chairs;
And mine the dog, and rises stiff with wrath
If any alien foot profane the path.
So, too, the buck that trimmed my terraces,
Our whilom gardener, called the garden his;
Who now, deposed, surveys my plain abode
And his late kingdom, only from the road.

Stevenson

Musings in Winter: Hugo Hamilton

“Maybe your country is only a place you make up in your own mind. Something you dream about and sing about. Maybe it’s not a place on the map at all, but just a story full of people you meet and places you visit, full of books and films you’ve been to. I’m not afraid of being homesick and having no language to live in. I don’t have to be like anyone else. I’m walking on the wall and nobody can stop me.”

Man with hiking equipment walking in mouton forest

Russian Art – Alexander Sheversky

In the words of one writer, ‘Striking a harmonic balance between classical composition and modern disposition an original oil painting by Sheversky speaks to an appreciation for the vocation to contemporary realism. Each canvas is stately and monumental, extolling the virtues of discipline and emotion styled by the foremost of his teachers – Rembrandt and Vermeer. The interplay of light and shadow and especially Sheversky’s inherent understanding of light bring a life to the painting that resonates and lives before the viewer. Whether it is a figurative study or a still life its own existence is captured by the emotive values of light itself that the artist exhibits, thus embodying the living, omnipresent nature of the subject. And so a Sheversky painting espouses a marriage of the meticulous detail of classical technique to that which is clean, modern, and conceptually crisp.”

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A Third Poem for Today

“Exquisite Candidate”
By Denise Duhamel

I can promise you this: food in the White House
will change! No more granola, only fried eggs
flipped the way we like them. And ham ham ham!
Americans need ham! Nothing airy like debate for me!
Pigs will become the new symbol of glee,
displacing smiley faces and “Have A Nice Day.”
Car bumpers are my billboards, billboards my movie screens.
Nothing I can say can be used against me.
My life flashes in front of my face daily.
Here’s a snapshot of me as a baby. Then
marrying. My kids drink all their milk which helps the dairy industry.
A vote for me is not only a pat on the back for America!
A vote for me, my fellow Americans, is a vote for everyone like me!
If I were the type who made promises
I’d probably begin by saying: America,
relax! Buy big cars and tease your hair
as high as the Empire State Building.
Inch by inch, we’re buying the world’s sorrow.
Yeah, the world’s sorrow, that’s it!
The other side will have a lot to say about pork
but don’t believe it! Their graphs are sloppy coloring books.
We’re just fine—look at the way
everyone wants to speak English and live here!
Whatever you think of borders,
I am the only candidate to canoe over Niagara Falls
and live to photograph the Canadian side.
I’m the only Julliard graduate—
I will exhale beauty all across this great land
of pork rinds and gas stations and scientists working for cures,
of satellite dishes over Sparky’s Bar & Grill, the ease
of breakfast in the mornings, quiet peace of sleep at night.

Duhamel

Musings in Winter: Tiffany Madison

“When the Rule of Law disappears, we are ruled by the whims of men.”

Madison

Spanish Art – Part I of II: Miguel Castillo Onate

Painter Miguel Castillo Onate lives and works in Barcelona.

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Musings in Winter: Dodie Smith

“Rose doesn’t like the flat country, but I always did – flat country seems to give the sky such a chance.”

Smithsky

Spanish Art – Part II of II: Joan Mateu Bagaria

Painter Joan Mateu Bavaria was born in Salt, Girona in 1976.

Below – “Sparks”; “Morning Has Broken”; “Journey To Ithaca”; “Calor”; “Interiors”; “Fulls & Fulles”; “Underground Stair.”

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Musings in Winter: Catherynne M. Valente

“When one is traveling, everything looks brighter and lovelier. That does not mean it IS brighter and lovelier; it just means that sweet, kindly home suffers in comparison to tarted-up foreign places with all their jewels on.”

Valente

American Art – Part I of II: Justin Taylor

Justin Taylor earned a BFA from Brigham Young University in 2007.

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Musings in Winter: Monica Dickens

“When I can’t ride anymore, I shall keep horses as long as I can hobble around with a bucket and a wheelbarrow. When I can’t hobble, I shall roll my wheelchair out to the fence of the field where my horses graze and watch them.
Whether by wheelbarrow or wheelchair, I will do likewise to keep alive-as long as I can do as best I can-my connection with horses.”

Dickens

A Fourth Poem for Today

“Home is so Sad”
By Philip Larkin

Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft

And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.

Larkin

Musings in Winter: Dejan Stojakovic

“There is another alphabet, whispering from every leaf, singing from every river, shimmering from every sky.”

Stojakovic

American Art – Part II of II: Korin Faught

In the words of one writer, “Korin Faught was born in Phoenix, Arizona in 1981 and raised in Colorado. She received her BFA from Art Center College of Design in 2004. Faught finds inspiration in mid-century modern design, fashion, and white on white. Her work has been exhibited at numerous galleries in Los Angeles, New York, Toronto, San Francisco and Seattle, including Merry Karnowsky Gallery, Copro Nason, Gallery Nucleus, The Shooting Gallery and Aidan Savoy Gallery.”

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