Musings in Spring: Ivan Doig
“Childhood is the one story that stands by itself in every soul.”
Below – Robin Champagne: “Childhood Memories”
Art for Spring – Part I of IV: Elizabeth Estivalet (Polish/French, contemporary)
Below – Untitled Landscape; “La Provence”; “Les Iris”
Remembering a Writer on the Date of Her Birth: Born 30 April 1945 – Annie Dillard, an American novelist, essayist, poet, and recipient of the Pulitzer Prize.
Some quotes from the work of Annie Dillard:
“Spend the afternoon, you can’t take it with you.”
“You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.”
“There is always the temptation in life to diddle around making itsy-bitsy friends and meals and journeys for years on end. It is all so self conscience, so apparently moral…But I won’t have it. The world is wilder than that in all directions, more dangerous…more extravagant and bright. We are…raising tomatoes when we should be raising Cain, or Lazarus.”
“You do not have to sit outside in the dark. If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find that darkness is necessary. But the stars neither require nor demand it.”
“The dedicated life is the life worth living. You must give with your whole heart.”
“The mockingbird took a single step into the air and dropped. His wings were still folded against his sides as though he were singing from a limb and not falling, accelerating thirty-two feet per second per second, through empty air. Just a breath before he would have been dashed to the ground, he unfurled his wings with exact, deliberate care, revealing the broad bars of white, spread his elegant, white-banded tail, and so floated onto the grass. I had just rounded a corner when his insouciant step caught my eye; there was no one else in sight. The fact of his free fall was like the old philosophical conundrum about the tree that falls in the forest. The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.”
“There is no shortage of good days. It is good lives that are hard to come by. A life of good days lived in the senses is not enough. The life of sensation is the life of greed; it requires more and more. The life of the spirit requires less and less; time is ample and its passage sweet. Who would call a day spent reading a good day? But a life spent reading — that is a good life.”
Below – Untitled; Untitled; Untitled
Remembering a Writer on the Date of His Death: Died 30 April 1936 – A. E. Housman, an English classical scholar, poet, and author of “A Shropshire Lad.”
“To an Athlete Dying Young”
by A. E. Housman
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.
And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl’s.
Art for Spring – Part III of IV: David Farsi (French, contemporary)
Below – “L’Ete”; “Deujeuner Sur L’Herbe”; “Page Blanche”
Worth a Thousand Words: Mars – North pole ice cap and South pole ice cap.
Below – “Cat Hat in Blue I”; “Dreaming of Fireworks”; “Butterfly Kiss I”
Remembering a Writer on the Date of His Birth: Born 30 April 1937 – Tony Harrison, an English poet, translator, and playwright.
“Long Distance II”
by Tony Harrison
Though my mother was already two years dead
Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas,
put hot water bottles her side of the bed
and still went to renew her transport pass.
You couldn’t just drop in. You had to phone.
He’d put you off an hour to give him time
to clear away her things and look alone
as though his still raw love were such a crime.
He couldn’t risk my blight of disbelief
though sure that very soon he’d hear her key
scrape in the rusted lock and end his grief.
He knew she’d just popped out to get the tea.
I believe life ends with death, and that is all.
You haven’t both gone shopping; just the same,
in my new black leather phone book there’s your name
and the disconnected number I still call.
In the words of one writer, “For nearly 15 years, Marine Artist Dale Evers has captured the imaginations of art collectors around the globe with his breathtaking and imminently graceful creations. Defined by natural balance and movement, daring composition, and innovative design, Dale Evers’ sculpture reflects his passion for nature, its wonder, and its beauty.”
Below (all bronze) – “King Neptune”; “Orcastration”; “Dragonfly”; “Dolphin”; “Champions”; “Honu.”