This Date in Art History: Born 24 September 1899 – William Dobell, an Australian painter.
Below – “Spring at Wangi”; “Woman in Restaurant”; “Storm over Wangi”; “Lady in Blue (Elsa Jacoby)”; “Bondi Beach.”
A Poem for Today
“For the Tattooed Man”
by Sharmila Voorakkara
Because she broke your heart, Shannon’s a badge—
a seven-letter skidmark that scars up
across your chest, a flare of indelible script.
Between ‘Death or Glory’, and ‘Mama’, she rages,
scales the trellis of your rib cage;
her red hair swings down to bracket your ankles, whip
up the braid of your backbone, cuff your wrists. She keeps
you sleepless with her afterimage,
and each pinned and martyred limb aches for more.
Her memory wraps you like a vise.
How simple the pain that trails and graces
the length of your body. How it fans, blazes,
writes itself over in the blood’s tightening sighs,
bruises into wisdom you have no name for.
Below – Jo Lee: “Young man with tattoos”
Contemporary South Korean Art – Seong Gu Lee
Below (sculpture) – “Chiasme 6”; “Chiasme 9”; “Chiasme 11”; “Chiasme 12.”
Some quotes from the work of F. Scott Fitzgerald:
“For what it’s worth, it’s never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you’re proud of and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start over.”
“To be kind is more important than to be right. Many times, what people need is not a brilliant mind that speaks but a special heart that listens.”
“Suddenly she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be.”
“Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat.”
“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”
“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
“I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”
“That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.”
“And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes–a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.”
Below – “City Blue”; Untitled; “On the roofs”; “Venus.”
“The Laughter of Women”
by Mary-Sherman Wiillis
From over the wall I could hear the laughter of women
in a foreign tongue, in the sun-rinsed air of the city.
They sat (so I thought) perfumed in their hats and their silks,
in chairs on the grass amid flowers glowing and swaying.
One spoke and the others rang like bells, oh so witty,
like bells till the sound filled up the garden and lifted
like bubbles spilling over the bricks that enclosed them,
their happiness holding them, even if just for the moment.
Although I did not understand a word they were saying,
their sound surrounded me, fell on my shoulders and hair,
and burst on my cheeks like kisses, and continued to fall,
holding me there where I stood on the sidewalk listening.
As I could not move, I had to hear them grow silent,
and adjust myself to the clouds and the cooling air.
The mumble of thunder rumbled out of the wall
and the smacking of drops as the rain fell everywhere.
Below – Rachel Hershkovitz: “Jaffa Ladies”
Below – “June in Hoops”; “Woman in a Green Headwrap”; “Woman in Devotional Garb”; “Woman in Turquoise Robe”; “Maria”; “Girl in Colorful Vest.”
A Poem for Today
by Sara Teasdale
I went out at night alone;
The young blood flowing beyond the sea
Seemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings—
I bore my sorrow heavily.
But when I lifted up my head
From shadows shaken on the snow,
I saw Orion in the east
Burn steadily as long ago.
From windows in my father’s house,
Dreaming my dreams on winter nights,
I watched Orion as a girl
Above another city’s lights.
Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,
The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,
All things are changed, save in the east
The faithful beauty of the stars.