Wandering in Woodacre – 3 April 2021

Contemporary South Korean Art – Jihyeon Choi

Below – “a small garden”; “way home”; “remember now”; “a leisurely mind”; “invitation”; “a small harvest.”

A Poem for Today

“A Note”
by Wislawa Szymborksa

Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on sand,
rise on wings;

to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;

to tell pain
from everything it’s not;

to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes;

An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held with the lamp switched off;

and if only once
to stumble on a stone,
end up soaked in one downpour or another,

mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;

and to keep on not knowing
something important

Below – Halyna Kirichenko: “Walking in the frosty grass”

Contemporary Belgian Art – Matthew Frock

Below – “Trail Head”; “Backyard Flowers No. 10”; “Pink and Rose”; “The Isle of Skye in Moonlight”; “The Garden Gate”; “Medea no. 1.”

This Dare in Literary/Journalistic History: Born 3 April 1916 – Herb Caen, an American journalist, essayist, humorist, author of “Baghdad by the Bay,” and recipient of the Pulitzer Prize. Caen’s columns have been described as “A continuous love affair with San Francisco.”

Some quotes from the work of Herb Caen:

“A man begins cutting his wisdom teeth the first time he bites off more than he can chew.”
“I sometimes worry about my short attention span, but not for long.”
“A city is not gauged by its length and width, but by the broadness of its vision and the height of its dreams.”
“Martinis are like breasts, one isn’t enough, and three is too many.”
“Isn’t it nice that people who prefer Los Angeles to San Francisco live there?”
“It is better to have loved and lost, but only if you have a good attorney.”
“One day if I do go to heaven…I’ll look around and say, ‘It ain’t bad, but it ain’t San Francisco.”
“I tend to live in the past because most of my life is there.”
“A city is where you can sign a petition, boo the chief justice, fish off a pier, gaze at a hippopotamus, buy a flower at the corner, or get a good hamburger or a bad girl at 4 A.M. A city is where sirens make white streaks of sound in the sky and foghorns speak in dark grays. San Francisco is such a city.”
“A city is a state – of mind, of taste, of opportunity. A city is a marketplace – where ideas are traded, opinions clash and eternal conflict may produce eternal truths.”
“The trouble with born-again Christians is that they are an even bigger pain the second time around.”

Contemporary German Art – Christine Olbrich

Below – “In The Coffeehouse”; “The Pause”; “Near the little lake”; “Covered Stranded”; “In the Mountains of Bavaria – 1”; “Taking a Bath.”

A Poem for Today

“Death Again”
by Jim Harrison

Let’s not get romantic or dismal about death.
Indeed it’s our most unique act along with birth.
We must think of it as cooking breakfast,
it’s that ordinary. Break two eggs into a bowl
or break a bowl into two eggs. Slip into a coffin
after the fluids have been drained, or better yet,
slide into the fire. Of course it’s a little hard
to accept your last kiss, your last drink,
your last meal about which the condemned
can be quite particular as if there could be
a cheeseburger sent by God. A few lovers
sweep by the inner eye, but it’s mostly a placid
lake at dawn, mist rising, a solitary loon
call, and staring into the still, opaque water.
We’ll know as children again all that we are
destined to know, that the water is cold
and deep, and the sun penetrates only so far.

Below – Maurice Sapiro: “Blue Lake”

Contemporary American Art – Afekwo N

Below – “Moving Landscape VI”; “Artist Garden II”; “To The North – The Red Boat”; “Beach Day II”; “Gold in a pond”; “Summer.”

A Poem for Today

by Sara Teasdale

I went out on an April morning
All alone, for my heart was high,
I was a child of the shining meadow,
I was a sister of the sky.

There in the windy flood of morning
Longing lifted its weight from me,
Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering,
Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.

Below – Aria Saatchi: “Sara in meadow”

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