Sentient in San Francisco – 3 June 2019

This Date in Art History: Born 3 June 1852 – Theodore Robinson, an American painter: Part I of II.

Below – “Nantucket”; “La Debacle”; “La Vachere”; “Girl at Piano”; “The Old Bridge”; “The Wedding March.”

A Poem for Today

by Barbara Schmitz

It is very hot—92 today—to be wearing
a stocking cap, but the adolescent swaggering
through the grocery store automatic door
doesn’t seem to mind; does not even appear
to be perspiring. The tugged-down hat
is part of his carefully orchestrated outfit:
bagging pants, screaming t-shirt, high-topped
shoes. The young woman who yells to her friends
from an open pickup window is attired
for summer season in strapless stretch
tube top, slipping down toward bountiful
cleavage valley. She tugs it up in front
as she races toward the two who have
just passed a cigarette between them
like a baton on a relay team. Her white
chest gleams like burnished treasure
as they giggle loudly there in the corner
and I glance down to see what costume
I have selected to present myself to
the world today. I smile; it’s my sky blue
shirt with large deliberately faded Peace sign,
smack dab in the middle, plus grey suede
Birkenstocks—a message that “I lived through
the sixties and am so proud.” None of the
young look my way. I round the corner and
walk into Evening descending.

This Date in Art History: Born 3 June 1852 – Theodore Robinson, an American painter: Part II of II.

Below – “The Layette”; “Girl in a Red Dress”; “Vermont Hill”; “The Plum Tree”; “Young Woman Reading in an Orchard Grove, Mid-Summer”; “Girl in Hammock.”

Musings in Spring: Seneca the Younger

“What’s the good of dragging up sufferings which are over, of being unhappy now just because you were then.”

Below – Vita Schagen: “Happiness or misery?”

Contemporary Romanian Art – Laslo Sergiu

Below – “Swimmer”; “Slide”; “Roses”; “Storm”; “The Circle.23”; “Sculpture no. 1.”

This Date in Literary History: Born 3 June 1936 – Larry McMurtry, an American novelist, essayist, screenwriter, author of “Lonesome Dove,” recipient of the Pulitzer Prize, recipient of seven Emmy Awards, and recipient of ten Academy Awards.

Some quotes from the work of Larry McMurtry:

“Backward is just not a natural direction for Americans to look – historical ignorance remains a national characteristic.”
“For the past several centuries the bonding power of the family dinner table has been one of the few constants, and now it’s binding no more. The potency of the media is now stronger than that of the family. The wonder is that families still exist at all, since the forces of modern life mainly all pull people away from a family centered way of life.”
“A woman’s love is like the morning dew. It’s just as likely to settle on a horse turd as a rose.”
I”f you wait, all that happens is that you get older.”
“Obviously, where art has it over life is in the matter of editing. Life can be seen to suffer from a drastic lack of editing. It stops too quick, or else it goes on too long. Worse, its pacing is erratic. Some chapters are little more than a few sentences in length, while others stretch into volumes. Life, for all its raw talent, has little sense of structure. It creates amazing textures, but it can’t be counted on for snappy beginnings or good endings either. Indeed, in many cases no ending is provided at all.”
“It’s a fine world, though rich in hardships at times.”
“Yesterday’s gone on down the river and you can’t get it back.”
“Incompetents invariably make trouble for people other than themselves.”
“The lives of happy people are dense with their own doings — crowded, active, thick. But the sorrowing are nomads, on a plain with few landmarks and no boundaries; sorrow’s horizons are vague and its demands are few.”
“The earth is mostly just a boneyard. But pretty in the sunlight.”

Contemporary French Art – Alice de Miramon

Below – “Lost Paradise”; “The tiger”; “Yellow Taxi”; “Tropical Fever.”

A Poem for Today

“One’s Ship Comes In”
by Joe Paddock

I swear
my way now will be
to continue without
plan or hope, to accept
the drift of things, to shift
from endless effort
to joy in, say,
that robin, plunging
into the mossy shallows
of my bird bath and
splashing madly till
the air shines with spray.
Joy it will be, say,
in Nancy, pretty in pink
and rumpled T-shirt,
rubbing sleep from her eyes, or
joy even in
just this breathing, free
of fright and clutch, knowing
how one’s ship comes in
with each such breath.

Below – Joe Mannheim: “Happiness”

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