Sentient in San Francisco – 6 March 2019

This Date in Art History: Born 6 March 1475 – Michelangelo, an Italian sculptor and painter: Part I of II.

Below – “Madonna of the Stars” (the artist’s earliest known work in marble); “Pieta”; “David”; “Dying Slave”; “Bacchus”; “Bound Slave.”

This Date in Literary History: Born 6 March 1885 – Ring Lardner, an American journalist short story writer, and satirist.
Ring Lardner is not well-known today, but Ernest Hemingway, Virginia Woolf, and F. Scott Fitzgerald all admired his work.

Some quotes from the work of Ring Lardner:

“They gave each other a smile with a future in it.”
“He looked at me as if I were a side dish he hadn’t ordered.”
“The family you come from isn’t as important as the family you’re going to have.”
“No one, ever, wrote anything as well even after one drink as he would have done without it.”
“I’ve known what it is to be hungry, but I always went right to a restaurant.”
“He give her a look that you could of poured on a waffle.”
“This story is slightly immoral, but so, I guess, are stories based on truth.”
“‘Shut up,’ he explained.”
“Where do they get that stuff about me being a satirist? I just listen.”

This Date in Art History: Born 6 March 1475 – Michelangelo, an Italian sculptor and painter: Part II of II.

Below – “The Creation of Adam”; “The Libyan Sibyl”; “Ignudo”; “Leda and the Swan”; “The Last Judgment” (Sistine Chapel); “The Cumaean Sibyl.”

Remembering a Nobel Laureate on the Date of Her Death: Died 6 March 1973 – Pearl S. Buck, an American novelist, essayist, short story writer, and recipient of the 1932 Nobel Prize for Literature.

Some quotes from the work of Pearl S. Buck:

“The test of a civilization is in the way that it cares for its helpless members.”
“When good people in any country cease their vigilance and struggle, then evil men prevail.”
“You cannot make yourself feel something you do not feel, but you can make yourself do right in spite of your feelings.”
“If our American way of life fails the child, it fails us all.”
“The boundary between civilization and barbarism is difficult to draw: put one ring in your nose and you are a savage, put two rings in your ears and you are civilized.”
“An Englishman is never afraid of being laughed at. He just thinks the other fellow is a fool. But Americans still can’t risk anybody laughing at them.”
“Music is not technique and melody, but the meaning of life itself, infinitely sorrowful and unbearably beautiful.”
“Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that is where I renew my springs that never dry up.”

This Date in Art History: Died 6 March 1986 – Georgia O’Keeffe, an American painter.

Below – “Ram’s Head White Hollyhock and Little Hills”; “Red Canna”; “Red Hill and White Shell“; “Jimson Weed”; “Rust Red Hills”; “Lake George Reflection.”

Musings in Winter: William Stafford

“Please think about this as you go on. Breathe on the world. Hold out your hands to it. When morning and evenings roll along, watch how they open and close, how they invite you to the long party that your life is.”

Contemporary American Art – Scott Curtis

Below – “All Nearness Pauses”; “Who Adored Symbols (Anais Nin)”; “Beaufort”; “The Leaden Circles (Virginia Woolf)”; “Substance From Shadow”; “Glass Sky I”; “Tomorrow and the Earth”; “The Rare Ecstatic Light.”

A Poem for Today

“Music at My Mother’s Funeral”
by Faith Shearin

During the weeks when we all believed my mother
was likely to die she began to plan
her funeral and she wanted us, her children,
to consider the music we would play there. We remembered
the soundtrack of my mother’s life: the years when she swept
the floors to the tunes of an eight track cassette called Feelings,
the Christmas when she bought a Bing Crosby album
about a Bright Hawaiian Christmas Day. She got Stravinsky’s
Rite of Spring stuck in the tape deck of her car and for months
each errand was accompanied by some kind
of dramatic movement. After my brother was born,
there was a period during which she wore a muumuu
and devoted herself to King Sunny Ade and his
African beats. She ironed and wept to Evita, painted
to Italian opera. Then, older and heavier, she refused
to fasten her seatbelt and there was the music
of an automated bell going off every few minutes,
which annoyed the rest of us but did not seem to matter
to my mother who ignored its relentless disapproval,
its insistence that someone was unsafe.

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