This Date in Art History: Born 17 November 1951 – Jack Vettriano, a Scottish painter.
Below “The Singing Butler”; “The Letter”; “Mad Dogs”; “Days of Wine and Roses”; “In Thoughts of You”; “Sweet Bird of Youth.”
“The Death of Autumn”
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes,
And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind
Like aged warriors westward, tragic, thinned
Of half their tribe, and over the flattened rushes,
Stripped of its secret, open, stark and bleak,
Blackens afar the half-forgotten creek,—
Then leans on me the weight of the year, and crushes
My heart. I know that Beauty must ail and die,
And will be born again,—but ah, to see
Beauty stiffened, staring up at the sky!
Oh, Autumn! Autumn!—What is the Spring to me?
Below – Sarah Doroshuk: “The Autumn”
Contemporary French Art – Emilie More
Below (photographs) – “Le souffleur de froid”; “Horizon”; “L’envoi”; “Floating”; “Collage”; “Summer 2020.”
“Remaking a Neglected Orchard”
by Nathaniel Perry
It was a good idea, cutting away
the vines and ivy, trimming back
the chest-high thicket lazy years
had let grow here. Though it wasn’t for lack
of love for the trees, I’d like to point out.
Years love trees in a way we can’t
imagine. They just don’t use the fruit
like us; they want instead the slant
of sun through narrow branches, the buckshot
of rain on these old cherries. And we,
now that I think on it, want those
things too, we just always and desperately
want the sugar of the fruit, the best
we’ll get from this irascible land:
sweetness we can gather for years,
new stains staining the stains on our hands.
Below – Elena Ivanova: “Cherry Orchard”
Contemporary German Art – Tanja Vetter: Part I of II.
Below – “Luna”; “Gone Astray XI”; “Time Stands Still”; “On the other side”; “In broad daylight”; “End of Summer VI.”
by Tim Nolan
How can we believe he did it—
every day—for all those years?
We remember how the musicians
gathered for him—and the prostitutes
arranged themselves the way he wanted—
and even the helmeted monkeys
with their little toy car cerebella—
posed—and the fish on the plate—
remained after he ate the fish—
Bones—What do we do with this
life?—except announce: Joy.
Joy. Joy—from the lead—
to the oil—to the stretch of bright
canvas—stretched—to the end of it all.
Below – Pablo Picasso: “The Joy of Life”
Contemporary German Art – Tanja Vetter: Part II of II.
“Gone Astray X”; “Memories”; “Refuge”; “Boundless”; “End of Time”; “Supermoon.”
A Poem for Late Autumn
“Tell me not here, it needs not saying”
by A. E. Housman
Tell me not here, it needs not saying,
What tune the enchantress plays
In aftermaths of soft September
Or under blanching mays,
For she and I were long acquainted
And I knew all her ways.
On russet floors, by waters idle,
The pine lets fall its cone;
The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing
In leafy dells alone;
And traveller’s joy beguiles in autumn
Hearts that have lost their own.
On acres of the seeded grasses
The changing burnish heaves;
Or marshalled under moons of harvest
Stand still all night the sheaves;
Or beeches strip in storms for winter
And stain the wind with leaves.
Possess, as I possessed a season,
The countries I resign,
Where over elmy plains the highway
Would mount the hills and shine,
And full of shade the pillared forest
Would murmur and be mine.
For nature, heartless, witless nature,
Will neither care nor know
What stranger’s feet may find the meadow
And trespass there and go,
Nor ask amid the dews of morning
If they are mine or no.
Below – Zhanna Konfratenko: “Passing by”