Sunday, April 14, 2024
Friday, September 8, 2023
Thursday, August 24, 2023
Fresh-Cull Vermilion
"It is not enough to cover the rock with leaves.
We must be cured of it by a cure of the ground
Or a cure of ourselves, that is equal to a cure
Of the ground, a cure beyond forgetfulness.
And yet the leaves, if they broke into bud,
If they broke into bloom, if they bore fruit,
And if we ate the incipient colorings
Of their fresh culls might be a cure of the ground."
— "The Rock," a poem by Wallace Stevens from
a section with the same title in the Collected Poems .
The red of the watermelon eaten on the cover of the
August 28, 2023, New Yorker is RGB (240, 57, 53) —
Cinnabar Red, also known as Vermilion.
For related poetic remarks, see a post of Leap Day 2004 .
Color Space
Arriving in today's mail: The New Yorker.
Online context for the cover art —
Monday, August 21, 2023
Sunday, August 20, 2023
In Memory of an LA Artist — “A Vertical Band of Color”
From an LA Times obituary for an artist
who reportedly died on July 30 —
"In his abstract paintings, he often returned to
the image of the atomic bomb, through
a recurring motif of an orb hovering
in a vertical band of color."
— BY ANA IWATAKI AUG. 18, 2023 10:08 AM PT
Saturday, August 19, 2023
Friday, August 18, 2023
Emergency Management: The View from the East Coast
This evening, I prefer a West Coast view . . .
Detail of an art video by Marcela Nowak, Log24, August 11, 2023
Double Feature — The Front Page/His Girl Friday
Photography for Bicoastal Lovers
Earlier, above some other bodies of water . . .
The Tempest
A tropical storm over Florida (lower left) as described by William Shakespeare in 1611.
“Wind over Water” in the I Ching, Dissolving: Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits and are melted into air, into thin air: and, like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve and, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep. (Prospero, IV.i) |
Thursday, August 17, 2023
The Elderbrook Palette
"Every shade I choose is intentional, chosen to evoke specific feelings within those who view my work. Blue strokes embody tranquility, a gentle touch that calms the nerves like a whispered secret. Swirls of red radiate a symphony of joy, love, and passion, inviting observers to delve into the depth of human emotions. And then there’s orange — a hue that signifies intelligence, dedication, activity, and enthusiasm — a palette of emotions waiting to be explored." — Marcela Nowak |
Update of 1:18 PM ET August 17, 2023 —
From the current version of the above tweet —
Detail: E-Shapes —
Wednesday, August 16, 2023
The Underwriting . . . Continues.
"An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection,
and on his own terms, not anyone else's."
— Written by J. D. Salinger ( as quoted earlier here )
For Mellevold and Brody*
"An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection,
and on his own terms, not anyone else's." — Franny and Zooey
Tuesday, August 15, 2023
“Would you stay if she promised you heaven?” — Stevie Nicks
Related material —
The “Heavenly City” is perhaps not Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Recall as well Jean Simmons preaching the Foursquare Gospel
in the 1960 film classic “Elmer Gantry” —
Monday, August 14, 2023
The Palette
Some art prose I like —
"Every shade I choose is intentional, chosen to evoke specific feelings within those who view my work. Blue strokes embody tranquility, a gentle touch that calms the nerves like a whispered secret. Swirls of red radiate a symphony of joy, love, and passion, inviting observers to delve into the depth of human emotions. And then there’s orange — a hue that signifies intelligence, dedication, activity, and enthusiasm — a palette of emotions waiting to be explored." — Marcela Nowak |
A related meditation — "Follow the girl who follows a dream."
An Artist on Her Art
This new Medium page inspired me to create my own.
Friday, August 11, 2023
Pictures for an Art Director
"You show me your control panel and I'll show you mine."
"Where past and future are gathered" — T. S. Eliot
Saturday, August 5, 2023
Sunday, July 23, 2023
Fresh Culls
"It is not enough to cover the rock with leaves.
We must be cured of it by a cure of the ground
Or a cure of ourselves, that is equal to a cure
Of the ground, a cure beyond forgetfulness.
And yet the leaves, if they broke into bud,
If they broke into bloom, if they bore fruit,
And if we ate the incipient colorings
Of their fresh culls might be a cure of the ground."
— "The Rock," a poem by Wallace Stevens from
a section with the same title in the Collected Poems .
Thursday, March 30, 2023
Data and Metadata: High Road, Low Road
Data —
Metadata —
Wednesday, March 29, 2023
Palette (Continued from March 21)
Matisse's Model
(The French Collection, Part I: #5)
Faith Ringgold 1991
Tuesday, March 21, 2023
Palette
Blocking Groups —
A Harvard phrase for a process analogous
to that of the Hogwarts Sorting Hat.
Hat tip to IG's @marrific:
Wednesday, December 8, 2021
’Musement
Related material — Disparate Images :
Joan Didion, The White Album :
“We tell ourselves stories in order to live….
We interpret what we see, select the most workable
of multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we
are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon
disparate images, by the ‘ideas’ with which we have
learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which
is our actual experience.
Or at least we do for a while. I am talking here about
a time when I began to doubt the premises of all the
stories I had ever told myself, a common condition
but one I found troubling.”
Wednesday, November 10, 2021
European Culture
A Wroclaw image from 2011 in which a version of my own work appears —
Later … A Wroclaw image posted by marrific on June 2, 2019 —
Recall too the oeuvre of Wroclaw native Ernst Cassirer . . .
Except, perhaps, by some roller-skate fans . . .
From The Catcher in the Rye —
“She was having a helluva time tightening her skate.
She didn’t have any gloves on or anything and her hands
were all red and cold. I gave her a hand with it. Boy, I
hadn’t had a skate key in my hand for years. It didn’t feel
funny, though. You could put a skate key in my hand
fifty years from now, in pitch dark, and I’d still know
what it is. She thanked me and all when I had it tightened
for her. She was a very nice, polite little kid. God, I love it
when a kid’s nice and polite when you tighten their skate
for them or something. Most kids are. They really are.
I asked her if she’d care to have a hot chocolate or something
with me, but she said no, thank you. She said she had to meet
her friend. Kids always have to meet their friend. That kills me.
Even though it was Sunday and Phoebe wouldn’t be there
with her class or anything, and even though it was so damp
and lousy out, I walked all the way through the park over to
the Museum of Natural History. I knew that was the museum
the kid with the skate key meant.”