The day broke around me like a cool dream

The day broke around me like a cool dream. Sea; sand; a sky that melts into the sea — a landscape of misty pastels with a look about it being continuously on the point of melting.

~ Angela Carter, from The Bloody Chamber in “The Bloody Chamber And Other Stories” (Vintage Digital; October 31, 2012)


Notes:

  • Photo: DK – Daybreak. 4:58 & 5:00 am. June 17, 2020. 58° F. Wind: 5 mph. Gusts: 8 mph. Cloud Cover: 19%.  Weed Ave, Stamford, CT.
  • Quote via andrasteiax

Lightly Child, Lightly

Bring down your colors

Break open your box of song

Beauty lifts us up

~ Mirabai Starr, Wild Mercy: Living the Fierce and Tender Wisdom of the Women Mystics


Notes:

  • Quote: Thank you Make Believe Boutique. Photo: Anka Zhuraleva with Summer Now in Saint-Petersburg.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Saturday Forecast: 55° F / Breezy


The New Yorker Cover: “Blown Away,” by Tomer Hanuka.

“The cover for this year’s Spring Style Issue is the fourth by Tomer Hanuka, an Israeli artist known for his striking use of color.

Q: We like the gestural quality of the woman’s pose. How does body language factor into making an image like this?

“I start with a gesture, just a line, and build a story around it. There are so many rules about drawing anatomy, and sometimes you need to break all of them to make a pose work. An image like this begins with a realistic sketch of a body, but in the end I want the physicality to disappear. I want the reader to be left only with an idea or a feeling.”

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

He thinks the prices paid for his works sometimes border on madness. “I want to ignore it, mostly,” he says. “I’ve had sufficient money to do what I liked every day for the last 60 years. Even when I didn’t have much money, I’ve always managed. All I’m interested in is working, really. I’m going to go on working. Artists don’t retire.”

~ Lesley M.M. Blume, The World According to David Hockney (wsj.com, Sept 9, 2019)


Other notables from this essay:

  • “I have the vanity of an artist. I want my work to be seen. But I don’t have to be seen.” —David Hockney

  • “[The drawings] seem to exist fully formed. It’s like he bleeds them onto the page.” —Arne Glimcher

  • The drive up to David Hockney’s Los Angeles home in the Hollywood Hills is a narrow, winding route, full of hairpin turns. At the top of a hill, his compound is fortressed away behind an expanse of fence, hidden within a barely tamed jungle of palm trees and bird of paradise plants. Nearly every surface—the walls, the walkways connecting the buildings, the handrails and the roofs—has been painted brilliant colors: bubblegum pink, cerulean, canary yellow, sea green. ~ Lesley M.M. Blume

Painting above by David Hockney: The Road to York through Sledmere1997 – oil on canvas 48×60 in.

 

Miracle. All of it.

Spring has finally arrived, and it makes me smile every time I step outside. New green leaves are pushing themselves into the sunlight as plants build the solar panels that will fuel them throughout the year. The first spring flowers are already in bloom, and a bright showcase of cheerful rainbow color is rapidly replacing the gray-brown palette of late winter.

I love the constant small surprises as new flowers appear. But each new sighting makes me wish for a superpower: the sort of expanded vision that could show me all the colors these flowers have to offer. Human beings can see some of them, and birds and bees can see a little more. But the potential range of invisible colors is mind-boggling, and science is only just starting to get a grip on it.

Our color vision is neatly summed up in our perception of a rainbow, sweeping from red, the longest wavelength of light that our eyes can detect, to violet, the shortest. But we can’t detect each shade individually; in order to make sense of this continuous spectrum of colors, we use a clever shortcut. Our eyes have three types of cone cell that respond to different colors—red, green and blue. Our brain figures out how much of the light that we see falls into each category, and it recombines that information to construct the myriad colors that we register. It is both beautifully efficient and frustratingly crude…

~Helen Czerski, from Colors That Only Bees and Birds Can See


Notes:

  • Photo: Spring Flowers by Paul.
  • Related Posts: Miracle. All of it.
  • Inspiration: Inspired by Albert Einstein’s quote: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

T.G.I.F.


A dancer from the Southern Highlands of Papua New Guinea n the city of Port Moresby. (David Gray, Reuters, wsj.com November 15, 2018)

Slice (of life)

ben-orange

Slice“, Benito Martin (Photographer, Sydney Australia)

Saturday Morning

There is a wind blowing from the east, in from the sea, and it is laden with rain, pattering against the roof. It is as if a wall were standing open: the long, beautiful summer has ended, and everything rushes towards autumn. The leaves drop from the trees, the colours drift from green towards yellow and brown, the air smells of soil.

It feels good.

~ Karl Ove Knausgaard, from “Lime” in “Autumn


Photo: jerianie with foggy autumn mornings

A Letter to Mother that She Will Never Read

That time, at forty-six, when you had a sudden desire to color. Let’s go to Walmart, you said one morning. I need coloring books. For months, you filled the space between your arms with all the shades you couldn’t pronounce. Magenta, vermillion, marigold, pewter, juniper, cinnamon. Each day, for hours, you slumped over landscapes of farms, pastures, Paris, two horses on a windswept plain, the face of a girl with black hair and skin you left blank, left white. You hung them all over the house, which started to look like an elementary-school classroom. When I asked you, Why coloring, why now?, you put down the sapphire pencil and stared, dreamlike, at a half-finished garden. I just go away in it for a while, you said, but I feel everything, like I’m still here, in this room.

Ocean Vuong, excerpt from A Letter to Mother that She Will Never Read


Notes:

  • Don’t miss Ocean Vuong’s full essay in the May 13, 2017th edition of The New Yorker here.
  • Photo: Thank you Dan @ Your Eyes Blaze Out

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like…

LOANHEAD, SCOTLAND - NOVEMBER 18: Edite Galite from Latvia, holds up a Poinsettia plants ready to be dispatched for the Christmas season at the Pentland Plants garden centre on November 18,2016 in Loanhead, Scotland. The garden centre grows around 100,000 poinsettias, a traditional Christmas house plant. The Midlothian business supplies a host of garden centres and supermarkets across Scotland and the north of England in time for the festive season. (Photo by Jeff J Mitchell/Getty Images)


100,000 poinsettias are ready to be dispatched for the Christmas season in a Loanhead, Scotland garden center.  (November 18, 2016. Photo by Jeff J Mitchell/Getty Images)

Don’t other fantastic shots here: Prepping the Poinsettias for Christmas

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