January Offerings – Part XXIV: Something to Delight both Head and Heart

American Art – Part I of VI: Alan Dingman

In the words of one writer, “Alan Dingman grew up in upstate NY. He left for New York City to attend Parsons School of Design and Rhode Island School of a Design in Providence, Rhode Island.
Upon completion of his BFA, he became Associate Art Director at St Martins Press in NYC. In 1996 he became a full-time illustrator. Since then his work has appeared in numerous publications including Rolling Stone, The New York Times and Business Week. He received an International Bronze Award for 3-D Illustration from the The Dimensional Illustrators Inc., a Silver Medal for design and Merit Awards for illustration from The Society of Illustrators.”







Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part I of XIII

“Conservation is getting nowhere because it is incompatible with our Abrahamic concept of land. We abuse land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.”

Below – Ansel Adams: “The Tetons and the Snake River”

A Victorian Sage – Quotes from the Work of Matthew Arnold: Part I of IV

“To have the sense of creative activity is the great happiness and the great proof of being alive.”

Below – Marguerite Gerard: “Artist Painting a Portrait of a Musician”

Musings in Winter: Terence McKenna

“Nature is not mute; it is man who is deaf.”

Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part II of XIII

“There are two spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other that heat comes from the furnace. To avoid the first danger, one should plant a garden, preferably where there is no grocer to confuse the issue. To avoid the second, he should lay a split of good oak on the andirons, preferably where there is no furnace, and let it warm his shins while a February blizzard tosses the trees outside. If one has cut, split, hauled, and piled his own good oak, and let his mind work the while, he will remember much about where the heat comes from, and with a wealth of detail denied to those who spend the week end in town astride a radiator.”

A Poem for Today

“Don’t Let That Horse . . .”
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Don’t let that horse
eat that violin

cried Chagall’s mother

But he
kept right on

And became famous

And kept on painting
The Horse With Violin In Mouth

And when he finally finished it
he jumped up upon the horse
and rode away
waving the violin

And then with a low bow gave it
to the first naked nude he ran across

And there were no strings

Below – Marc Chagall: “The Equestrienne”

Musings in Winter: Hermann Hesse

“What is the world doing? Have new gods been discovered, new laws, new freedoms? Who cares! But up here a primrose is blossoming and bearing silver fuzz on its leaves, and the light sweet wind is singing below me in the poplars, and between my eyes and heaven a dark golden bee is hovering and humming—I care about that. It is humming the song of happiness, humming the song of eternity. Its song is my history of the world.”

Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part III of XIII

“One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the damage inflicted on land is quite invisible to laymen. An ecologist must either harden his shell and make believe that the consequences of science are none of his business, or he must be the doctor who sees the marks of death in a community that believes itself well and does not want to be told otherwise.”

Below – An abandoned farm in eastern Montana.

“My little old dog – a heartbeat at my feet.” – Edith Wharton, American novelist, poet, short story writer, designer, and recipient of the 1922 Pulitzer Prize (for “The Age of Innocence”), who was born 24 January 1862.

Some quotes from the work of Edith Wharton:

“Set wide the window. Let me drink the day.”
“Life is always either a tightrope or a feather bed. Give me the tightrope.”
“If only we’d stop trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time.”
“There are two ways of spreading light: to be he candle or the mirror that reflects it.”
“I don’t know if I should care for a man who made life easy; I should want someone who made it interesting.”
“Ah, good conversation – there’s nothing like it, is there? The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing.”
“The real loneliness is living among all these kind people who only ask one to pretend!”
“There is one friend in the life of each of us who seems not a separate person, however dear and beloved, but an expansion, an interpretation, of one’s self, the very meaning of one’s soul.”
“We can’t behave like people in novels, though, can we?”
“Silence may be as variously shaded as speech.”
“In reality they all lived in a kind of hieroglyphic world, where the real thing was never said or done or even thought, but only represented by a set of arbitrary signs.”
“It was easy enough to despise the world, but decidedly difficult to find any other habitable region.”
“An unalterable and unquestioned law of the musical world required that the German text of French operas sung by Swedish artists should be translated into Italian for the clearer understanding of English-speaking audiences.”
“The real marriage of true minds is for any two people to possess a sense of humor or irony pitched in exactly the same key, so that their joint glances on any subject cross like inter-arching searchlights.”
“She was so evidently the victim of the civilization which had produced her, that the links of her bracelet seemed like manacles chaining her to her fate.”
“A classic is classic not because it conforms to certain structural rules, or fits certain definitions (of which its author had quite probably never heard). It is classic because of a certain eternal and irrepressible freshness.”
“In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways.”

A Second Poem for Today

By Joseph Bruchac

Seeing photos
of ancestors
a century past

is like looking
at your own

and lines
you can’t

until someone else
with a stranger’s eye
looks close and says
that’s you.
Musings in Winter: Daniel J. Rice

“I walked slowly to enjoy this freedom, and when I came out of the mountains, I saw the sky over the prairie, and I thought that if heaven was real, I hoped it was a place I never had to go, for this earth was greater than any paradise.”

Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part IV of XIII

“The last word in ignorance is the man who says of an animal or plant, ‘What good is it?’ If the land mechanism as a whole is good, then every part is good, whether we understand it or not. If the biota, in the course of aeons, has built something we like but do not understand, then who but a fool would discard seemingly useless parts? To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent tinkering.”

Below – Gib Myers: “Bison Herd”

Here is how one critic describes the paintings of English-born Australian artist Francis (Tone) O’Leary:
“Virtuoso puzzle paintings, pencil and paint magically combined.
Dazzling depictions of the figure in allegorical compositions.
A close study of old masters such as Leonardo, Perugino, and above all, Botticelli.”

Musings in Winter: John Clare

“In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be;
Where all the noises, that on peace intrude,
Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee,
Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.”

Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part V of XIII

“Perhaps the most serious obstacle impeding the evolution of a land ethic is the fact that our educational and economic system is headed away from, rather than toward, an intense consciousness of land. Your true modern is separated from the land by many middlemen, and by innumerable physical gadgets. He has no vital relation to it; to him it is the space between cities on which crops grow. Turn him loose for a day on the land, and if the spot does not happen to be a golf links or a ‘scenic’ area, he is bored stiff. If crops could be raised by hydroponics instead of farming, it would suit him very well. Synthetic substitutes for wood, leather, wool, and other natural land products suit him better than the originals. In short, land is something he has ‘outgrown.’”

A Third Poem for Today

“The Season of Phantasmal Peace”
By Derek Walcott

Then all the nations of birds lifted together
the huge net of the shadows of this earth
in multitudinous dialects, twittering tongues,
stitching and crossing it. They lifted up
the shadows of long pines down trackless slopes,
the shadows of glass-faced towers down evening streets,
the shadow of a frail plant on a city sill—
the net rising soundless as night, the birds’ cries soundless, until
there was no longer dusk, or season, decline, or weather,
only this passage of phantasmal light
that not the narrowest shadow dared to sever.

And men could not see, looking up, what the wild geese drew,
what the ospreys trailed behind them in silvery ropes
that flashed in the icy sunlight; they could not hear
battalions of starlings waging peaceful cries,
bearing the net higher, covering this world
like the vines of an orchard, or a mother drawing
the trembling gauze over the trembling eyes
of a child fluttering to sleep;
it was the light
that you will see at evening on the side of a hill
in yellow October, and no one hearing knew
what change had brought into the raven’s cawing,
the killdeer’s screech, the ember-circling chough
such an immense, soundless, and high concern
for the fields and cities where the birds belong,
except it was their seasonal passing, Love,
made seasonless, or, from the high privilege of their birth,
something brighter than pity for the wingless ones
below them who shared dark holes in windows and in houses,
and higher they lifted the net with soundless voices
above all change, betrayals of falling suns,
and this season lasted one moment, like the pause
between dusk and darkness, between fury and peace,
but, for such as our earth is now, it lasted long.

Below – Paul Cezanne: “Mont Sainte Victoire Seen from Les Lauves”

American Art – Part II of VI: Robert Gwathmey

“Art never grows out of the persuasion of polished eclecticism or the inviting momentum of the bandwagon.” – Robert Gwathmey, American social realist painter, who was born 24 January 1903.

Below – “Tobacco Farms”; “Singing and Mending”; “Hoeing”; “Fruit and Vegetable Vendor”; “Like Son”; “Flowers for the Pulpit.”






Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part VI of XIII

“Like winds and sunsets, wild things were taken for granted until progress began to do away with them. Now we face the question whether a still higher ‘standard of living’ is worth its cost in things natural, wild and free. For us of the minority, the opportunity to see geese is more important than television.”

Musings in Winter: Carl Sagan

“The world is so exquisite, with so much love and moral depth, that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with pretty stories for which there’s little good evidence.”

A Victorian Sage – Quotes from the Work of Matthew Arnold: Part II of IV

“Culture is the endeavour to know the best and to make this knowledge prevail for the good of all humankind.”

A Fourth Poem for Today

“One Art”
By Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Musings in Winter: Hermann Hesse

“A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, the longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home.”

Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part VII of XIII

“Nonconformity is the highest evolutionary attainment of social animals.”

Below – The Sage of Walden Pond.

Here is one writer describing the background of Dutch painter Rien van Uitert (born 1952): “After training as an architect and designing several projects, Rien van Uitert was gripped by the desire to become a realist painter. He attended several courses, including the Graphic Centre in Groningen , and learned the intricacies of Chris Herenius and Herman van Hoogdalem .”






Musings in Winter: David Levithan

“Run outside during a thunderstorm
That downpour, that conquered hesitation, that exhilaration
That’s what unlonely is like.”
Man standing in the rain and observing thunderstorm.

A Fifth Poem for Today

“On Inhabiting an Orange”
By Josephine Miles

All our roads go nowhere.
Maps are curled
To keep the pavement definitely
On the world.

All our footsteps, set to make
Metric advance,
Lapse into arcs in deference
To circumstance.

All our journeys nearing Space
Skirt it with care,
Shying at the distances
Present in air.

Blithely travel-stained and worn,
Erect and sure,
All our travels go forth,
Making down the roads of Earth
Endless detour.

Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part VIII of XIII

“We all strive for safety, prosperity, comfort, long life, and dullness.”

From the American History Archives – Part I of II: Lehman Caves National Monument

24 January 1922 – President Warren G. Harding makes Lehman Caves in east-central Nevada a National Monument.



Musings in Winter: Richard Erdoes

“I think it was a sense of being completely swallowed up by nature that gave the prairie its powerful attraction. There is nothing like it in all of Europe. Even high up on a Swiss glacier one is still conscious of the toy villages below, the carefully groomed landscape of multicolored fields, the faraway ringing of a church bell. It is all very beautiful, but it does not convey the utmost escape. I believe, with the Indians, that a landscape influences and forms the people living on it and that one cannot understand them and make friends with them without also understanding, and making friends with, the earth from which they came.”

American Art – Part III of VI: Robert Motherwell

“Walk on a rainbow trail; walk on a trail of song, and all about you will be beauty. There is a way out of every dark mist, over a rainbow trail.” – Robert Motherwell, American painter, printmaker, and one of the youngest members of the New York School, who was born 24 January 1915.

Below – “Elegy to the Spanish Republic No. 110”; “New England Elegy 2”; “Western Air”; “Africa Tapestry”; “Blue Air”; “The Cavern.”






Musings in Winter: Kishore Bansal

“Nature unfolds her treasure at the first ray of sunrise.”

Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part IX of XIII

“Man always kills the thing he loves, and so we the pioneers have killed our wilderness. Some say we had to. Be that as it may, I am glad I shall never be young without wild country to be young in. Of what avail are forty freedoms without a blank spot on the map?”

Below – Yukon wilderness.

A Sixth Poem for Today

“I am Waiting”
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti

I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting
for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting
for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Second Coming
and I am waiting
for a religious revival
to sweep thru the state of Arizona
and I am waiting
for the Grapes of Wrath to be stored
and I am waiting
for them to prove
that God is really American
and I am waiting
to see God on television
piped onto church altars
if only they can find
the right channel
to tune in on
and I am waiting
for the Last Supper to be served again
with a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes
and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devised
to destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Great Divide to be crossed
and I am anxiously waiting
for the secret of eternal life to be discovered
by an obscure general practitioner
and I am waiting
for the storms of life
to be over
and I am waiting
to set sail for happiness
and I am waiting
for a reconstructed Mayflower
to reach America
with its picture story and tv rights
sold in advance to the natives
and I am waiting
for the lost music to sound again
in the Lost Continent
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the day
that maketh all things clear
and I am awaiting retribution
for what America did
to Tom Sawyer
and I am waiting
for Alice in Wonderland
to retransmit to me
her total dream of innocence
and I am waiting
for Childe Roland to come
to the final darkest tower
and I am waiting
for Aphrodite
to grow live arms
at a final disarmament conference
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting
to get some intimations
of immortality
by recollecting my early childhood
and I am waiting
for the green mornings to come again
youth’s dumb green fields come back again
and I am waiting
for some strains of unpremeditated art
to shake my typewriter
and I am waiting to write
the great indelible poem
and I am waiting
for the last long careless rapture
and I am perpetually waiting
for the fleeing lovers on the Grecian Urn
to catch each other up at last
and embrace
and I am awaiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder

Here is the Artist Statement of Canadian Cree painter Aaron Paquette: “In my paintings, I seek to nurture a relationship with the viewer. I try to use colours that are calm and soothing, but also fresh and exciting. My goal is to create work that a person can be comfortable with and can invite into their home. In this manner, I hope to deliver a message. In each painting I try to include a story that is meaningful to me and encourages discussion. I hope that my work can act as part of a catalyst for greater understanding. I feel that it is important to allow art to be beautiful while conveying deep and sometimes very serious meaning. My work almost always features an aspect of nature and our relationship with the earth.”
Aaron Paquette

Aaron Paquette

Aaron Paquette

Aaron Paquette

Aaron Paquette


Aaron Paquette

Aaron Paquette



Aaron Paquette

Musings in Winter: Black Elk

“You have noticed that everything as Indian does is in a circle, and that is because the Power of the World always works in circles, and everything tries to be round….. The Sky is round, and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball, and so are all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power, whirls. Birds make their nest in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours…. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood, and so it is in everything where power moves.”

Below – The Bighorn Medicine Wheel.

A Victorian Sage – Quotes from the Work of Matthew Arnold: Part III of IV

“But often, in the world’s most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep in us—to know
Whence our lives come and where they go.”

Below – John William Waterhouse: “The Lady of Shalott”

Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part X of XIII

“Ability to see the cultural value of wilderness boils down, in the last analysis, to a question of intellectual humility. The shallow-minded modern who has lost his rootage in the land assumes that he has already discovered what is important; it is such who prate of empires, political or economic, that will last a thousand years. It is only the scholar who appreciates that all history consists of successive excursions from a single starting-point, to which man returns again and again to organize yet another search for a durable scale of values. It is only the scholar who understands why the raw wilderness gives definition and meaning to the human enterprise.”

Below – The Fitzpatrick Wilderness, Wyoming.

A Seventh Poem for Today

“On Finding a Turtle Shell in Daniel Boone National Forest”
By Jeff Worley

This one got tired
of lugging his fortress
wherever he went,
was done with duck and cover
at every explosion
through rustling leaves
of fox and dog and skunk.
Said au revoir to the ritual
of pulling himself together. . .

I imagine him waiting
for the cover of darkness
to let down his hinged drawbridge.
He wanted, after so many
protracted years of caution,
to dance naked and nimble
as a flame under the moon—
even if dancing just once
was all that the teeth
of the forest would allow.

From the American History Archives – Part II of II: Aztec Ruin National Monument

24 January 1923 – Aztec Ruin National Monument is established in northwestern New Mexico. Its name was changed to Aztec Ruins National Monument in 1928. The structures were actually built by ancient Pueblo people – the Anasazi.


New Mexican Ruins

Musings in Winter: Paul Gauguin

“All the joys—animal and human—of a free life are mine. I have escaped everything that is artificial, conventional, customary. I am entering into the truth, into nature.”

Below – “Tahitian Landscape”

A Victorian Sage – Quotes from the Work of Matthew Arnold: Part IV of IV

“Life is not a having and a getting, but a being and a becoming.”

Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part XI of XIII

“The practices we now call conservation are, to a large extent, local alleviations of biotic pain. They are necessary, but they must not be confused with cures. The art of land doctoring is being practiced with vigor, but the science of land health is yet to be born.”

Below – Ozark Landscape: The White River in northern Arkansas.

American Art – Part IV of VI: David Molesky

American painter David Molesky (born 1977) holds a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Art Practice from the University of California at Berkeley.
David Molesky paintings

David Molesky paintings

David Molesky paintings

David Molesky paintings

David Molesky paintings

David Molesky paintings

David Molesky paintings

David Molesky paintings

An Eighth Poem for Today

By Jan Mordenski

Even after darkness closed her eyes 

my mother could crochet. 

Her hands would walk the rows of wool 

turning, bending, to a woolen music.

The dye lots were registered in memory: 

appleskin, chocolate, porcelain pan, 

the stitches remembered like faded rhymes: 

pineapple, sunflower, window pane, shell.

Tied to our lives those past years 

by merely a soft colored yarn, 

she’d sit for hours, her dark lips 

moving as if reciting prayers, 

coaching the sighted hands.

Peruvian painter Herman Braun Vega (born 1933) lives and works in Paris.









Musings in Winter: Henry David Thoreau

“No man ever followed his genius till it misled him. Though the result were bodily weakness, yet perhaps no one can say that the consequences were to be regretted, for these were a life in conformity to higher principles. If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, more immortal—that is your success. All nature is your congratulation, and you have cause momentarily to bless yourself. The greatest gains and values are farthest from being appreciated. We easily come to doubt if they exist. We soon forget them. They are the highest reality… The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched.”

Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part XII of XIII

“The good life of any river may depend on the perception of its music; and the preservation of some music to perceive.”

Below – The Buffalo National River.

A Ninth Poem for Today

“The Whistle”
By Kathy Mangan

You could whistle me home from anywhere
in the neighborhood; avenues away,
I’d pick out your clear, alternating pair
of notes, the signal to quit my child’s play
and run back to our house for supper,
or a Saturday trip to the hardware store.
Unthrottled, wavering in the upper
reaches, your trilled summons traveled farther
than our few blocks. I’ve learned too, how your heart’s
radius extends, though its beat
has stopped. Still, some days a sudden fear darts
through me, whether it’s my own city street
I hurry across, or at a corner in an unknown
town: the high, vacant air arrests me—where’s home?

Musings in Winter: John Graves

“Canoes, too, are unobtrusive; they don’t storm the natural world or ride over it, but drift in upon it as a part of its own silence. As you either care about what the land is or not, so do you like or dislike quiet things–sailboats, or rainy green mornings in foreign places, or a grazing herd, or the ruins of old monasteries in the mountains. . . . Chances for being quiet nowadays are limited.”

Below – Winslow Homer: “The Blue Boat”

American Art – Part V of VI: Rebecca Campbell

Painter Rebecca Campbell earned a B.F.A. from Pacific Northwest College of Art, Portland and an M.F.A. from the University of California, Los Angeles.








Land, Community, and Ethics – Quotes from the Work of Aldo Leopold: Part XIII of XIII

“Acts of creation are ordinarily reserved for gods and poets, but humbler folk may circumvent this restriction if they know how. To plant a pine, for example, one need be neither god nor poet; one need only own a shovel. By virtue of this curious loophole in the rules, any clodhopper may say: Let there be a tree – and there will be one.”

Musings in Winter: Edward Abbey

“Beyond the river and ten miles east of the city the Sangre Mountains began to reveal themselves in more detail as the sun rose higher, the rampart of blue shadow dissolving in the light, exposing the fissured red cliffs, the canyons and gorges a thousand feet deep, the towers leaning out from the main wall, the foothills dry and barren as old bones, and above and behind these tumbled ruins the final barrier of granite, the great horizontal crest tilted up a mile high into the frosty blue sky, sparkling with a new fall of snow. The mountains loomed over the valley like a psychical presence, a source and mirror of nervous influences, emotions, subtle and unlabeled aspirations; no man could ignore that presence; in an underground poker game, in the vaults of the First National Bank, in the realtor’s office during the composition of and intricate swindle, in the heart of a sexual embrace, the emanations of mountain and sky imprinted some analogue of their nature on the evolution and shape of every soul.”

A Tenth Poem for Today

By Peter Everwine

Toward evening, as the light failed
and the pear tree at my window darkened,
I put down my book and stood at the open door,
the first raindrops gusting in the eaves,
a smell of wet clay in the wind.
Sixty years ago, lying beside my father,
half asleep, on a bed of pine boughs as rain
drummed against our tent, I heard
for the first time a loon’s sudden wail
drifting across that remote lake—
a loneliness like no other,
though what I heard as inconsolable
may have been only the sound of something
untamed and nameless
singing itself to the wilderness around it
and to us until we slept. And thinking of my father
and of good companions gone
into oblivion, I heard the steady sound of rain
and the soft lapping of water, and did not know
whether it was grief or joy or something other
that surged against my heart
and held me listening there so long and late.

American Art – Part VI of VI: Philip Geiger

In the words of one writer, “In 1983, having been on the faculty of Colorado State University, Philip Geiger joined the McIntire Department of Art of the University of Virginia in Charlottesville to teach figure drawing and introductory drawing. He is known for his highly realistic interior domestic scenes with figures sleeping, gathered around a dinner table or sitting alone pensively and quietly.”










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