From the Pacific Northwest – Part XLV

American Art – Part I of IV: Angela Bentley Fife

Artist Statement: ”Much of my work is created out of my own confusion of stereotypes, roles, and expectations that surround us and shift with time. I question our cultural ideals, why we place emphasis on certain characteristics both male and female, and I express my own weaknesses and insecurities through painting. In grouping symbols that are similar or contrasting, I can present an idea as concretely as I choose, while allowing space for interpretation. The underlying drive is that I have an urge to paint because of the physical process as well as the emotional development of an idea.”

American Art – Part II of IV: Robert A. Forbear

Robert A. Forbear is known for his Texas landscape and wildlife paintings.

Below – “Once Upon A Time In Texas”; “Caught In Evening Light”; “The Sanctuary”; “Abundant Waters”; “My Space”; “Evening Light.”

American Art – Part III of IV: Warren Prosperi

In the words of one writer, “Warren Prosperi is self-educated in the tradition of Optical Naturalism, which was developed by Caravaggio, perfected by the 17th century masters Hals and Velasquez, and continued by Zorn, Sargent and Sorolla. This tradition examines the nature of visual experience and the structure of an actual moment.”

Below – “Chinoiserie”; “Museum Epiphany VI”; “Fog”; “Low Tide, Lobster Cove, Annisquam, Massachusetts”; “By the Fallen Tree, Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts.”

American Art – Part IV of IV: Virginia Strom Precourt

In the words of one writer, “While well known in certain circles, Virginia Precourt lived and worked in a secluded wooded location just south of Boston, rarely exhibiting her work in public exhibitions. Despite her quiet profile, Precourt’s professional accomplishments are numerous. In addition to receiving private portrait commissions, she has painted a mural for the public library in Westwood, and has paintings in the permanent collections of the DeCordova Museum in Lincoln and the Weyerhauser Collection of the Art Complex Museum in Duxbury, as well as in collections, private and corporate, here and abroad. In 1980 she received the John Singleton Copley Master’s Medallion from the Copley Society of Boston.” 

Below – “New Earrings”; “Evening Star”; “Downtown Crossing”; “Imperial Cat: Livia’s Villa, 2001”; “Red Sky, Sailors’ Delight”; “Whistle Stop.”

Art for Winter – Part I of III: Edward Henry Potthast (American, 1857-1927)

Below – “At the Beach”

Art for Winter – Part II of III: Shirley Pulido (American, contemporary)

Below – “Content”

Art for Winter – Part III of III: Peter Poskas (American, contemporary)

Below – “Dawn, Nettleton Hollow”

A Poem for Today

“maggie and milly and molly and may”
By E.E. Cummings

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles, and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

A Second Poem for Today

“The City”
By C.P. Cavafy

You said: “I’ll go to another country. go to another shore,
find another city better than this one.
Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong
and my heart lies buried like something dead.
How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?
Wherever I turn, wherever I look,
I see the black ruins of my life, here,
where I’ve spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally.”

You won’t find a new country, won’t find another shore.
This city will always pursue you.
You’ll walk the same streets, grow old
in the same neighborhoods, turn gray in these same houses.
You’ll always end up in this city. Don’t hope for things elsewhere:
there’s no ship for you, there’s no road.
Now that you’ve wasted your life here, in this small corner,
you’ve destroyed it everywhere in the world.

Below – Ayan Chaudhuri: “Traveller in The Train”

A Third Poem for Today

“The Paltry Nude Starts on a Spring Voyage”
By Wallace Stevens

But not on a shell, she starts,
Archaic, for the sea.
But on the first-found weed
She scuds the glitters,
Noiselessly, like one more wave.

She too is discontent
And would have purple stuff upon her arms,
Tired of the salty harbors,
Eager for the brine and bellowing
Of the high interiors of the sea.

The wind speeds her on,
Blowing upon her hands
And watery back.
She touches the clouds, where she goes,
In the circle of her traverse of the sea.

Yet this is meagre play
In the scurry and water-shine,
As her heels foam—
Not as when the goldener nude
Of a later day

Will go, like the centre of sea-green pomp,
In an intenser calm,
Scullion of fate,
Across the spick torrent, ceaselessly,
Upon her irretrievable way.

Below – Audrey Munson (1891-1996): model and muse dubbed “The American Venus.”

Musings in Winter: T.F. Hodge

“Solitude is the house of peace.”

Musings in Winter: Alberto Caeiro

“The river of my village doesn’t make you think about anything.
When you’re at its bank you’re only at its bank.”

Musings in Winter: Saleen Sharma

“A star-spangled sky and you were looking the other way,
the night beckoned and waited and you waited for the day.”

Musings in Winter: Charles Bukowski

“Animals are inspirational. They don’t know how to lie. They are natural forces.”

Below – Charles Bukowski

Musings in Winter: Neil Gaiman

“I don’t really like driving in the snow. There’s something about the motion of the falling snowflakes that hurts my eyes, throws my sense of balance all to hell. It’s like tumbling into a field of stars.”

Musings in Winter: Cormac McCarthy

“The truth about the world, he said, is that anything is possible. Had you not seen it all from birth and thereby bled it of its strangeness it would appear to you for what it is, a hat trick in a medicine show, a fevered dream, a trance bepopulate with chimeras having neither analogue nor precedent, an itinerant carnival, a migratory tentshow whose ultimate destination after many a pitch in many a mudded field is unspeakable and calamitous beyond reckoning.
The universe is no narrow thing and the order within it is not constrained by any latitude in its conception to repeat what exists in one part in any other part. Even in this world more things exist without our knowledge than with it and the order in creation which you see is that which you have put there, like a string in a maze, so that you shall not lose your way. For existence has its own order and that no man’s mind can compass, that mind itself being but a fact among others.”

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