Wandering in Woodacre – 16 November 2020

Contemporary French Art – JALO

Below (photographs) – “woman at museum”; “woman with bird.”

Contemporary French Art – Vincent Dugast

Below – “Woman in the storm (seaside at night)”; “seaside storm (Marine Nocturne)”; “Large Primary Forest (Summer).”

This Date in Literary History: Born 16 November 1954 – Andrea Barrett, an American novelist, short story writer, author of “Ship Fever” and “Servants of the Map,” and recipient of the National Book Award.

Some quotes from the work of Andrea Barrett:

“I’m not adopted. But that longing and that sense of absence … are perhaps other ways of expressing the actualities of my family. Different facts, same emotions.”
“The life she’d led, each of the places she’d called home sending unexpected shoots toward the next, had made her open to almost anything.”
“We all feel unhoused in some sense. That’s part of why we write.”
“In that light, across the field, is all I will never have. Next to me is all I will.”
“Not long after he and Margaret were married, he’d complimented her on a pot of yellow blossoms near the front door. She’d laughed, and blushed, and then confessed that weeks earlier, watching him walk around the vegetable garden, she’d slipped out, dug up a brick-sized clump of earth which held the clear impression of his right foot, and tucked it into the flower pot. In that earth she’d planted a chrysanthemum, hoping that as it bloomed year after year so would his love for her. How should he marry again, after that?”

Contemporary French Art – Emilie Mori

Below (photographs) – “Unity”; “Freedom No 1”; “Immersion”; “Cold”; “Waiting for you”; “Red Stole #11.”

This Date in Intellectual/Spiritual History: Died 16 November 1973 – Alan Watts, a British writer known for interpreting and popularizing Buddhism, Hinduism, and Taoism for a Western Audience.

Some quotes from the work of Alan Watts:

“Through our eyes, the universe is perceiving itself. Through our ears, the universe is listening to its harmonies. We are the witnesses through which the universe becomes conscious of its glory, of its magnificence.”“This is the real secret of life — to be completely engaged with what you are doing in the here and now. And instead of calling it work, realize it is play.”
“We seldom realize, for example that our most private thoughts and emotions are not actually our own. For we think in terms of languages and images which we did not invent, but which were given to us by our society.”
“We are living in a culture entirely hypnotized by the illusion of time, in which the so-called present moment is felt as nothing but an infinitesimal hairline between an all-powerfully causative past and an absorbingly important future. We have no present. Our consciousness is almost completely preoccupied with memory and expectation. We do not realize that there never was, is, nor will be any other experience than present experience. We are therefore out of touch with reality. We confuse the world as talked about, described, and measured with the world which actually is. We are sick with a fascination for the useful tools of names and numbers, of symbols, signs, conceptions and ideas.”
“Muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone.”
“You are a function of what the whole universe is doing in the same way that a wave is a function of what the whole ocean is doing.”
“We do not “come into” this world; we come out of it, as leaves from a tree. As the ocean ‘waves,’ the universe ‘peoples.’ Every individual is an expression of the whole realm of nature, a unique action of the total universe.”

Contemporary Dutch Art – Victor van de Lande

Below – “Along the riverside”; “land van Jaap”; Untitled; “Dishoek”; “Home”; “pollard willow.”

This Date in Literary History: Born 16 November 1967 – Craig Arnold, an award-winning American poet.

“Meditation on a Grapefruit”
by Craig Arnold

To wake when all is possible
before the agitations of the day
have gripped you
To come to the kitchen
and peel a little basketball
for breakfast
To tear the husk
like cotton padding a cloud of oil
misting out of its pinprick pores
clean and sharp as pepper
To ease
each pale pink section out of its case
so carefully without breaking
a single pearly cell
To slide each piece
into a cold blue china bowl
the juice pooling until the whole
fruit is divided from its skin
and only then to eat
so sweet
a discipline
precisely pointless a devout
involvement of the hands and senses
a pause a little emptiness

each year harder to live within
each year harder to live without

Below – Debbie Mueller: “Pamplemousse”

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