From the Pacific Northwest – Part VI

Musings in Autumn: Kristian Goldmund Aumann

“Take heart and dive into the quiet maturity of autumn.”

Canadian Art – Part I: William Lazos

In the words of one writer, “William Lazos has painted an impressive number of mural projects, including major commissions for the Queen West Health Centre, the Greater Toronto Airport Authority, and a project for American abstract artist Frank Stella at Toronto’s Princess of Wales Theatre. A graduate of the Ontario College of Art, Lazos has been exhibiting since 1984 across Canada, the US, and Europe. 
Lazos’s painted surfaces are technically precise and smoothly rendered, using a combination of meticulous airbrush and paintbrush techniques to capture subtle plays of light and complex textural surfaces. His subjects—carnival scenes, colourful commercial products, and other contemporary cultural objects—call on all the senses in their striking detail. While certainly familiar and even nostalgic, Lazos’s works are also unmistakably contemporary. More than photographic imitation, his paintings combine haze and sharp focus, document and memory, hyper-realism and childlike wonder to mesmerizing effect.”

Below – “Exit”; “Mini Hoopla”; “Mr. Potato Head”; “Pinwheels IV”; “Sweet Things”; “Trumpet.”






A Poem for Today

By Kristian Goldmund Aumann

The cheerful sundial;
it falls in the shadow
of thy leaves.
where your branches
brace themselves
against the gate of heaven

Musings in Autumn: Edward Hirsch

“And every year there is a brief, startling moment
When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and
Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless
Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:
It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;
It is the changing light of fall falling on us.”

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950) was an American poet and playwright.

Some quotes from the work of Edna St. Vincent Millay:

“Night falls fast. Today is in the past.”
“My heart is warm with the friends I make,
And better friends I’ll not be knowing,
Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take,
No matter where it’s going.”
“It’s not true that life is one damn thing after another; it’s one damn thing over and over.”
“Life must go on; I forget just why.” “I love humanity but I hate people.”
“No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.”
“Music, my rampart and my only one.” “Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost, but climb.”
“Stranger, pause and look;
From the dust of ages
Lift this little book,
Turn the tattered pages,
Read me, do not let me die!
Search the fading letters finding
Steadfast in the broken binding
All that once was I!”

A Second Poem for Today

“Baseball and Classicism”
By Tom Clark

Every day I peruse the box scores for hours   
Sometimes I wonder why I do it
Since I am not going to take a test on it   
And no one is going to give me money

The pleasure’s something like that of codes   
Of deciphering an ancient alphabet say   
So as brightly to picturize Eurydice
In the Elysian Fields on her perfect day

The day she went 5 for 5 against Vic Raschi

Below – Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot: “Orpheus Leading Eurydice from the Underworld”; Victor John Angelo “Vic” Raschi.

Musings in Autumn: Donna Lynn Hope

“Joy – in the fall, winter, and always in the mountains where people are few, wildlife is abundant and there is peace in the quiet.”

A Third Poem for Today

By Frank Ormsby

The lights come on and stay on under the trees.
Visibly a whole neighborhood inhabits the dusk,
so punctual and in place it seems to deny
dark its dominion. Nothing will go astray,
the porch lamps promise. Sudden, as though a match
failed to ignite at the foot of the garden, the first squibs
trouble the eye. Impossible not to share
that sportive, abortive, clumsy, where-are-we-now
dalliance with night, such soothing relentlessness.
What should we make of fireflies, their quick flare
of promise and disappointment, their throwaway style?
Our heads turn this way and that. We are loath to miss
such jauntiness in nature. Those fugitive selves,
winged and at random! Our flickery might-have-beens
come up form the woods to haunt us! Our yet-to-be
as tentative frolic! What do fireflies say?
That loneliness made of light becomes at last
convivial singleness? That any antic spark
cruising the void might titillate creation?
And whether they spend themselves, or go to ground,
or drift with their lights out, they have left the gloom,
for as long as our eyes take to absorb such absence,
less than it seemed, as childless and deprived
as Chaos and Old Night. But ruffled, too,
as though it unearthed some memory of light
from its long blackout, a hospitable core
fit home for fireflies, brushed by fireflies’ wings.

Canadian Art – Part II: Niko Haskova

Artist Statement: “For me, painting is about confronting the plastic of modern existence. I am fascinated by contrasts, literally and metaphorically. Whether I am recording the tension of human relationships, the conflict between environment and ‘sprawl’, or the collision of black silk and pale skin, I am constantly drawn to opposing elements.”

Below – “Foundation”; “Flitter”; “Part of It All”; “Fly Away”; “I Am Made of Light”; “Evermore.”






This entry was posted in Art and Photography, Books, Movies, Music, and Television, Opinion. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply