Wikipedia page for Julie Mehretu
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Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 03, 2013
Friday, March 15, 2013
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Edvard Munch (1863 - 1944)
In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.
What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.
A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.
Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.
Theodore Roethke (1908 - 1963)
In a Dark Time
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.
What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.
A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.
Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.
Theodore Roethke (1908 - 1963)
In a Dark Time
Saturday, February 02, 2013
Mario Sironi (1885 - 1961)
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
T. S. Eliot (1888 - 1965)
From The Hollow Men
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
T. S. Eliot (1888 - 1965)
From The Hollow Men
Mario Sironi on Wikipedia
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Simão César Dórdio Gomes (1890 - 1976)
Portuguese artist Dórdio Gomes first studied at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Lisbon before moving to Paris in 1910 on a scholarship to the Julian Academy. After losing the scholarship in 1911 he returned to Portugal. In 1921 we once again went to Paris where he attended the National School of Fine Arts. While he remained in Paris for 5 years he also travelled throughout Europe where the art he experienced influenced his own style. He settled in Porto, Portugal in 1933, where he taught at the School of Fine Arts from 1934 until 1960, thus passing on his own influence to the
painters of the 1940's/1950's. (Translated and summarised from Wikipedia.)
Tuesday, January 08, 2013
Thursday, December 27, 2012
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