Sentient in San Francisco – 10 September 2019

Contemporary Spanish Art – Raul Lara

Below – “Faces Serie 7”; “inside New York”; “Symmetriarum”; Untitled; “Faces Serie 1”; “cogitatione.”


This Date in Literary History: Born 10 September 1886 – Hilda Doolittle (pen name H.D.), an American poet, novelist, and memoirist.

“Moonrise”
by H.D.

Will you glimmer on the sea?
Will you fling your spear-head
On the shore?
What note shall we pitch?

We have a song,
On the bank we share our arrows—
The loosed string tells our note:

O flight,
Bring her swiftly to our song.
She is great,
We measure her by the pine-trees.

Below – Kawase Hasui: “Full Moon at Magome”


Contemporary Polish Art – Marta Zawadzka

Below – “Frida with flowers”; “Summer in my garden”; “Morning in NYC”; “Castle on the sand”; “The Band”; “Urban Jungle.”


A Poem for Today

“Late Summer”
by Jennifer Grotz

Before the moths have even appeared
to orbit around them, the streetlamps come on,
a long row of them glowing uselessly

along the ring of garden that circles the city center,
where your steps count down the dulling of daylight.
At your feet, a bee crawls in small circles like a toy unwinding.

Summer specializes in time, slows it down almost to dream.
And the noisy day goes so quiet you can hear
the bedraggled man who visits each trash receptacle

mutter in disbelief: ‘Everything in the world is being thrown away!’
Summer lingers, but it’s about ending. It’s about how things
redden and ripen and burst and come down. It’s when

city workers cut down trees, demolishing
one limb at a time, spilling the crumbs
of twigs and leaves all over the tablecloth of street.

‘Sunglasses!’ the man softly exclaims
while beside him blooms a large gray rose of pigeons
huddled around a dropped piece of bread.

Contemporary Mexican Art – Francesca Dalla Benetta

Artist Statement: “My work is characterized by mixed anatomies and forms. Human faces and bodies are combined with different textures, skins and elements, giving birth to hybrid beings.
 Through unusual, bizarre and surreal bodies, my work focuses on the issues of transformation, identity, sense of belonging, self perception and dreams, linking the actual world to a mythological and ancestral universe. I work with the idea of an unconventional beauty as a way of reflection about human values, suggesting different reactions and emotions, and the possibility to question our perceptions. As an artist, I think that the most important task of art is to provoke new feelings and ideas, and finally evoke a change in the viewer. I mainly use sculpture because it is an immediate and direct language without abstraction or synthesis. The sculpture is inevitably honest, solid, hides nothing; It is a perfect tool for self-knowledge and for knowing each other, displaying the ability to contact with yourself.”

Below – “MARA’AKAME”; “Mascarade”; “Nina camaléon”; “Communion with the earth”; “Octopus Girl”; “Magic you be.”

A Poem for Today

“Rain at the Zoo”
by Kristen Tracy

A giraffe presented its head to me, tilting it
sideways, reaching out its long gray tongue.
I gave it my wheat cracker while small drops
of rain pounded us both.  Lightning cracked open
the sky.  Zebras zipped across the field.
It was springtime in Michigan.  I watched
the giraffe shuffle itself backwards, toward
the herd, its bone- and rust-colored fur beading
with water.  The entire mix of animals stood
away from the trees.  A lone emu shook
its round body hard and squawked.  It ran
along the fence line, jerking open its wings.
Perhaps it was trying to shake away the burden
of water or indulging an urge to fly.  I can’t know.
I have no idea what about their lives these animals
love or abhor.  They are captured or born here for us,
and we come.  It’s true.  This is my favorite field.

Below – Ryan Fox: “Giraffe in Zoo”

Contemporary Ukrainian Art – Olga Kvasha

Below – “Spring is late this year”; “And silver and gold”; “Their shadows”; “Warmness of poplar”; “New spring of old garden”; “The one that dances with leaves.”

A Poem for Today

“Sunflower”
by Frank Steele

You’re expected to see
only the top, where sky
scrambles bloom, and not
the spindly leg, hairy, fending off
tall, green darkness beneath.
Like every flower, she has a little
theory, and what she thinks
is up.   I imagine the long
climb out of the dark
beyond morning glories, day lilies, four o’clocks
up there to the dream she keeps
lifting, where it’s noon all day.

Below – Chrysovalantou Mavroudis: “Sunflower Field”

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