Sentient in San Francisco – 15 July 2019

Contemporary American Art – CR Rousseau

In the words of one writer, “Rousseau explores styles and challenges previous approaches with oils, acrylics, water color, ink, photography, print as well as other media.”

Below – “Femme Carmel #3’; ‘Low Tide”; “Buoyed Up on Portage Bay”; “Introspective”; “Sunday Coast”; “Ready to Catch the Wind”; “Beach Bonfires.”

This Date in Literary History: Died 15 July 2003 – Roberto Bolano, an award-winning Chilean novelist, short story writer, poet, and essayist.

Some quotes from the work of Roberto Bolano:

“You have to know how to look even if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
“The world is alive and no living thing has any remedy. That is our fortune.”
“There’s no place on earth with more dumb girls per square foot than a college in California.”
“Poetry is the one thing that isn’t contaminated, the one thing that isn’t part of the game.”
“What twisted people we are. How simple we seem, or at least pretend to be in front of others, and how twisted we are deep down. How paltry we are and how spectacularly we contort ourselves before our own eyes, and the eyes of others…And all for what? To hide what? To make people believe what?”
“We interpret life at moments of the deepest desperation.”
“Being alone makes us stronger. That’s the honest truth. But it’s cold comfort, since even if I wanted company no one will come near me anymore.”
“I’m an educated man; the prisons I know are subtle ones.”


Contemporary British Art – David Jones

Below – “Light in the Darkness #3”; “1949HC”; “1964W”; “Antinous1953”; “Light in the Darkness #1”; “Light in the Darkness 4.”

A Poem for Today

“On Finding a Turtle Shell in Daniel Boone National Forest”
by Jeff Worley

This one got tired
of lugging his fortress
wherever he went,
was done with duck and cover
at every explosion
through rustling leaves
of fox and dog and skunk.
Said au revoir to the ritual
of pulling himself together. . .

I imagine him waiting
for the cover of darkness
to let down his hinged drawbridge.
He wanted, after so many
protracted years of caution,
to dance naked and nimble
as a flame under the moon—
even if dancing just once
was all that the teeth
of the forest would allow.


Contemporary Canadian Art – Maria Rom: Part I of II.

Below – “Parrot in the land”; “Light”; “Leopard in the sea”; “Vase flowers”; “Fire ballerina dance”; “Balene-whales.”


This Date in Literary History: Born 15 July 1947 – Lydia Davis, an award-winning American short story writer, novelist, and essayist.

Some quotes from the work of Lydia Davis:

“Like a tropical storm, I, too, may one day become ‘better organized.”
“Nearly every morning, a certain woman in our community comes running out of her house with her face white and her overcoat flapping wildly. She cries out, ‘Emergency, emergency,’ and one of us runs to her and holds her until her fears are calmed. We know she is making it up; nothing is has really happened to her. But we understand, because there is hardly one of us who has no been moved at some time to do just what she has done, and every time, it has taken all our strength, and even the strength of our friends and families, too, to keep us quiet.”
“I looked like a woman in glasses, but I had dreams of leading a very different kind of life, the life of a woman who would not wear glasses, the kind of woman I saw from a distance now and then in a bar.”
“Art is not in some far-off place.”
“Heart weeps. Head tries to help heart. Head tells heart how it is, again: ‘You will lose the ones you love. They will all go. But even the earth will go, someday. Heart feels better, then. But the words of head do not remain long in the ears of heart. Heart is so new to this. I want them back, says heart. Head is all heart has. Help, head. Help heart.'”


Contemporary Canadian Art – Maria Rom: Part II of II.

Below – “Horses. Run In The Sea”; “Violin underwater”; “Swim flowers”; “Birds on the garden”; “Basket flowers 2”; “Space Out Of Earth.”

A Poem for Today

“For My Wife”
by Wesley McNair

How were we to know, leaving your two kids
behind in New Hampshire for our honeymoon
at twenty-one, that it was a trick of cheap
hotels in New York City to draw customers
like us inside by displaying a fancy lobby?
Arriving in our fourth-floor room, we found
a bed, a scarred bureau, and a bathroom door
with a cut on one side the exact shape
of the toilet bowl that was in its way
when I closed it. I opened and shut the door,
admiring the fit and despairing of it. You
discovered the initials of lovers carved
on the bureau’s top in a zigzag, breaking heart.
How wrong the place was to us then,
unable to see the portents of our future
that seem so clear now in the naiveté
of the arrangements we made, the hotel’s
disdain for those with little money,
the carving of pain and love. Yet in that room
we pulled the covers over ourselves and lay
our love down, and in this way began our unwise
and persistent and lucky life together.

Below – Henri de Toulouse-Latrec: “In Bed: The Kiss”

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