Sentient in San Francisco – 28 January 2019

Contemporary Canadian Art – Jon Cooper

Below – “Now”; Untitled; Untitled; “Night Train”; “A Good Way”; Untitled.

Remembering a Writer on the Date of Her Birth: Born 28 January 1873 – Colette (Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette), a French novelist and journalist who was nominated for the 1948 Nobel Prize in Literature.

Some quotes from the work of Colette:

“Time spent with a cat is never wasted.”
“I love my past, I love my present. I am not ashamed of what I have had, and I am not sad because I no longer have it.”
“You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.”
“Be happy. It’s one way of being wise.”
“Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet.”
“You must not pity me because my sixtieth year finds me still astonished. To be astonished is one of the surest ways of not growing old too quickly.”
“Chance, my master and my friend, will, I feel sure, deign once again to send me the spirits of his unruly kingdom. All my trust is now in him- and in myself. But above all in him, for when I go under he always fishes me out, seizing and shaking me like a life-saving dog whose teeth tear my skin a little every time. So now, whenever I despair, I no longer expect my end, but some bit of luck, some commonplace little miracle which, like a glittering link, will mend again the necklace of my days.”
“The true traveler is he who goes on foot, and even then, he sits down a lot of the time.”
“I went to collect the few personal belongings which…I held to be invaluable: my cat, my resolve to travel, and my solitude.”
“By an image we hold on to our lost treasures, but it is the wrenching loss that forms the image, composes, binds the bouquet.”
“I am indebted to the cat for a particular kind of honorable deceit, for a greater control over myself, for a characteristic aversion to brutal sounds, and for the need to keep silent for long periods of time.”
“There are days when solitude, for someone my age, is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.”
“What a wonderful life I’ve had! I only wish I’d realized it sooner.”

Contemporary Italian Art – Alessandro Pagani

Below – “The Abominable Snowm(e)n II”; Untitled II; “The Abominable Snowm(e)n III”; “The Abominable Snowm(e)n”; “American Graffiti”; Untitled.

Remembering a Nobel Laureate on the Date of His Death: Died 28 January 1996 – Joseph Brodsky, a Russian-born American poet, essayist, and recipient of the 1987 Nobel Prize in Literature.

“A Song”
by Joseph Brodsky

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish you sat on the sofa
and I sat near.
The handkerchief could be yours,
the tear could be mine, chin-bound.
Though it could be, of course,
the other way around.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish we were in my car
and you’d shift the gear.
We’d find ourselves elsewhere,
on an unknown shore.
Or else we’d repair
to where we’ve been before.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish I knew no astronomy
when stars appear,
when the moon skims the water
that sighs and shifts in its slumber.
I wish it were still a quarter
to dial your number.

I wish you were here, dear,
in this hemisphere,
as I sit on the porch
sipping a beer.
It’s evening, the sun is setting;
boys shout and gulls are crying.
What’s the point of forgetting
if it’s followed by dying?

Below – Carol Aust: “Man at Window”

Contemporary Canadian Art – Ian McLean: Part I of II.

Below – “Assembly”; “Membrane”; “All At Once”; “Ownership”; “Placement”; “Reservoir.”

A Poem for Today

By Barbara Crooker

The sky hangs up its starry pictures: a swan,
a crab, a horse. And even though you’re
three hundred miles away, I know you see
them, too. Right now, my side
of the bed is empty, a clear blue lake
of flannel. The distance yawns and stretches.
It’s hard to remember we swim in an ocean
of great love, so easy to fall into bickering
like little birds at the feeder fighting over proso
and millet, unaware of how large the bag of grain is,
a river of golden seeds, that the harvest was plentiful,
the corn is in the barn, and whenever we’re hungry,
a dipperful of just what we need will be spilled . . .

Contemporary Canadian Art – Ian McLean: Part II of II.

Below – “Out Of Order”; “Gust”; “Contingency”; “Lantern”; “Burnout”; “Split Level.”

Remembering a Nobel laureate on the Date of His Death: Died 28 January 1939 – William Butler Yeats, an Irish poet, playwright, and recipient of the 1923 Nobel Prize in Literature.

“The Lake Isle of Innisfree”
by William Butler Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

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