This Date in Art History: Died 24 November 1957 – Diego Rivera, a Mexican painter and sculptor.
Below – “Street in Avila”; “The Alarm Clock”; “The Mathematician”; “Still Life with Utensils”; “Urban Landscape”; “Two Women.”
In tattered gold
Tossing bits of amber
And jade, jewels of a year grown old:
This Date in Art History: Died 24 November 1995 – Eduard Ole, an Estonian-Swedish painter.
Below – “Still-life Collage”; “Portrait”; “Passengers”; “Late Autumn Landscape”; “Rootsi rannamotiiv”: “Christmas.”
A Poem for Today
by Terri Kirby Erickson
She could be a Norman Rockwell painting,
the small girl on my front porch with her eager
face, her wind-burned cheeks red as cherries.
Her father waits by the curb, ready to rescue
his child should danger threaten, his shadow
reaching halfway across the yard. I take the
booklet from the girl’s outstretched hand,
peruse the color photos of candy bars and
caramel-coated popcorn, pretend to read it.
I have no use for what she’s selling, but I
can count the freckles on her nose, the scars
like fat worms on knobby knees that ought
to be covered on a cold day like this, when
the wind is blowing and the trees are losing
their grip on the last of their leaves. ‘I’ll take
two of these and one of those,’ I say, pointing,
thinking I won’t eat them, but I probably will.
It’s worth the coming calories to see her joy,
how hard she works to spell my name right,
taking down my ‘information.’ Then she turns
and gives a thumbs-up sign to her father, who
grins like an outfielder to whom the ball has
finally come—his heart like a glove, opening.
Below – Norman Rockwell: “Vacation’s Over”
Below – “African American children from Wadesboro, North Carolina, 1938”; “A juke joint located in Belle Glade, Florida, 1944”; “Negro Home near Charleston, South Carolina, 1938”; “Ada Turner and Evelyn M. Driver Home Management, 1939”; “Coal miner’s children and wife, Pursglove, West Virginia, 1938”; Untitled, 1938.”
Musings in Autumn: Henry David Thoreau
“This is November of the hardest kind, bare frozen ground covered with pale brown or straw-colored herbage, a strong, cold, cutting north wind…. This month taxes a walker’s resources more than any other…. If you do feel any fire at this season out of doors, you may depend upon it, it is your own…. You can hardly screw up your courage to take a walk when all is thus tightly locked or frozen up, and so little is to be seen in field or wood…. Nature has herself become, like the few fruits she still affords, a very thick-shelled nut with a shrunken meat within. If I find anything to excite a warming thought abroad, it is an agreeable disappointment, for I am obliged to go willfully and against my inclination at first, the prospect looks so barren, so many springs are frozen up, not a flower, perchance, and few birds left, not a companion abroad in all these fields for me. I seem to anticipate a fruitless walk…. But then I am often unexpectedly compensated, and the thinnest yellow light of November is more warming and exhilarating than any wine they tell of.”
Below – Walden Pond in November.
Contemporary American Art – Vape Yeremyan
Below – “Rowboats on the Shore”; “Birches”; “Cliff”; “White Cliff”; “Grand Canyon”; “Big Sur.”
A Poem for Today
by Sally Bliumis-Dunn
Massive and black
the frigate birds,
on brambles in the distance.
Their bright red gular sacs,
full as spinnaker sails
billow from their feathers,
like giant hearts of skin and air.
They remind us of our own
hearts, oversized and awkward,
quivering in the lightest wind.