Sentient in San Francisco – 2 May 2019

This Date in Art History: Died 2 May 2013 – Charles Banks Wilson, and American painter and illustrator.

Below – “Sequoyah”; “White Hats”; “The Patriot”; “Trail’s End”; “Non-Indian Settlement”; “Suzanna and the Elders.”

A Poem for Today

“Snapshot”
by Linda Parsons Marion

My mother sends the baby pictures she promised—
egg hunting in Shelby Park, wooden blocks
and Thumbelina tossed on the rug, knotty pine
walls in a house lost to memory. I separate out
the early ones, studying my navel or crumbs
on the tray, taken before my awareness
of Sylvania Superflash. Here I am sitting
on the dinette table, the near birthday cake
striking me dumb. Two places of wedding china,
two glasses of milk, posed for the marvelous
moment: the child squishes the fluted rosettes,
mother claps her hands, father snaps the picture
in the face of time. When the sticky sweet
is washed off the page, we are pasted in an album
of blessed amnesia. The father leaves the pine house
and sees the child on weekends, the mother
stores the china on the top shelf until it’s dull and crazed,
the saucer-eyed girl grips her curved spoon
like there’s no tomorrow.

Contemporary British Art – Tessa Houghton

Below – “Illuminated land”; “Darting clouds”; “Tundra”; “Memento”; “Entwined”; “Forever.”


This Date in Music History: Born 2 May 1895 – Lorenz Hart, the lyricist of the Broadway songwriting team Rodgers and Hart. Some of Hart’s more famous lyrics include “Blue Moon,” “The Lady Is a Tramp,” “Where or When,” Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered,” and “With a Song in My Heart.”

Contemporary American Art – Gabriela Horikawa

Below – “Duomo Square”; “Galleria 10-23-17”; “Museum 3.”

This Date in Literary History: Born 2 May 1859 – Jerome K. Jerome, and English writer and humorist, best known for the comic travelogue “Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog).”
“Three Men in a Boat” is a wonderful book to read on a Summer day.

Some quotes from the work of Jerome K. Jerome:

“Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need – a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.”
“I often arrive at quite sensible ideas and judgements, on the spur of the moment. It is when I stop to think that I become foolish.”
“It is always the best policy to speak the truth, unless, of course, you are an exceptionally good liar.”
“A good woman’s arms round a man’s neck is a lifebelt thrown out to him from heaven.”
“I can’t sit still and see another man slaving and working. I want to get up and superintend, and walk round with my hands in my pockets, and tell him what to do. It is my energetic nature. I can’t help it.”
“What I am looking for is a blessing not in disguise.”
“A glass of wine often makes me a better man than hearing a sermon.”
“Love is like the measles; we all have to go through it.”
“That is just the way with Memory; nothing that she brings to us is complete. She is a willful child; all her toys are broken. I remember tumbling into a huge dust-hole when a very small boy, but I have not the faintest recollection of ever getting out again; and if memory were all we had to trust to, I should be compelled to believe I was there still.”
“I like work; it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours.”
“They [dogs] never talk about themselves but listen to you while you talk about yourself, and keep up an appearance of being interested in the conversation.”
“Opportunities flit by while we sit regretting the chances we have lost, and the happiness that comes to us we heed not, because of the happiness that is gone.”


Contemporary French Art – Frederic Belaubre

Below – “Child Playing”; “The study in purple I”; “Figure 19P3.”


A Poem for Today

“Loving the Hands”
by Julie Suk

I could make a wardrobe
with tufts of wool
caught on thistle and bracken.

Lost—the scraps
I might have woven whole cloth.

‘Come watch,’ the man says,
shearing sheep
with the precision of long practice,
fleece, removed all of a piece,
rolled in a neat bundle.

I’ve been so clumsy
with people who’ve loved me.

Straddling a ewe,
the man props its head on his foot,
leans down with clippers,
each pass across the coat a caress.

His dogs, lying nearby,
tremble at every move—as I do,
loving the hands that have learned
to gentle the life beneath them.

Below – Mia DeLode: “The Shearing”

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