Beleaguered in Bothell – 14 March 2018

Musings in Winter: Mary Oliver

“When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider the orderliness of the world.”

Art for Winter – Part I of III: Rufino Tamayo (Mexican, 1899-1991)

Below – “Moon and Sun 338”; “Sandias”; “Dog Barking at the Moon”

Remembering a Genius on the Date of His Birth: Born 14 March 1879 – Albert Einstein, a German-American theoretical physicist, academic, and recipient of the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics.

Some quotes from the work of Albert Einstein:

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
“Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.”
“I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”
“Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.”
“If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.”
“I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious.”
“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

Art for Winter – Part II of III: Dorothea Tanning (American, 1910-2012)

Below – “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik”; “Deirdre”; “Self-Portrait at Age 30”

Musings in Winter: T.S. Eliot

“So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years-
Twenty years largely wasted, the years of l’entre deux guerres-
Trying to use words, and every attempt
Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure
Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate,
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer
By strength and submission, has already been discovered
Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope
To emulate – but there is no competition –
There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.”

Below – T.S. Eliot making “a raid on the inarticulate.”

Art for Winter – Part III of III: Rosemary Tapia (American, contemporary)

Below – “Deer in the Woods”; “San Francisco Skyline”; “Richardson Bay”

Worth a Thousand Words: A NASA image of the Crab Nebula in Taurus.

Dutch Art – Jacques Tange

In the words of one writer, “Themes [of his art] are: love, the struggle of man in the difficult “new” world, urbanization, loneliness and the way man and woman live together or apart .”

Below – “Full Moon”; “Waiting for Picasso”; “Fast Ride”; “Desert Dwelling”; “Tell Tale Birds”; “Blooming Ladies with Flowers.”

A Poem for Today

“Here in Kathmandu”
by Donald Justice

We have climbed the mountain.
There’s nothing more to do.
It is terrible to come down
To the valley
Where, amidst many flowers,
One thinks of snow,

As formerly, amidst snow,
Climbing the mountain,
One thought of flowers,
Tremulous, ruddy with dew,
In the valley.
One caught their scent coming down.

It is difficult to adjust, once down,
To the absence of snow.
Clear days, from the valley,
One looks up at the mountain.
What else is there to do?
Prayer wheels, flowers!

Let the flowers
Fade, the prayer wheels run down.
What have they to do
With us who have stood atop the snow
Atop the mountain,
Flags seen from the valley?

It might be possible to live in the valley,
To bury oneself among flowers,
If one could forget the mountain,
How, never once looking down,
Stiff, blinded with snow,
One knew what to do.

Meanwhile it is not easy here in Katmandu,
Especially when to the valley
That wind which means snow
Elsewhere, but here means flowers,
Comes down,
As soon it must, from the mountain.

This Date in Art History: Born 14 March 2018 – Reginald Marsh, an American painter.

Below – “Lift Bridge, Jersey Marshes”; “Blonde with Green and Yellow Skirt”; “Summer at the Pier”; “Sorting the Mail”; “Merry-Go-Round”; “Burlesque Queen.”

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