Open the window to a different view

If I were a young writer searching for my voice would you listen and comment on my veracity in tone and text?
I could be standing on the stone in the river watching the river move slowly on. I could watch and tell you of the upstream... the otters, the arching willows, trout
sleeping in dark pools. no, I could not see the rapids and the waterfall, a few miles further on.
I am downstream, looking back at the beautiful falls; the river pounding on the slippery rocks under the foaming water. I stand on a sandy beach eroding as I watch the falls.
I am old, I remember clinging to the rock above the falls. I remember how the current of time swept me down stream and the only mercy was the rock I could cling to as I listened to the crashing river.

click to feed fish

Friday, October 8, 2010

Zen Art


Meadow in the Garden of
 Saint-Paul Hospital
Saint-Remy, May 1890
Oil on canvas 64.5x81cm
London, National Gallery


      This painting was done just before Vincent left Saint-Remy. He was sober now. He had less than three months to live. The painting is an ordinary piece of earth. One that is not different from scruffy grass fields any of us have looked at; noticed there are no wild flowers and ignored, then walked on. It is the fact that it is so ubiquitous, a humble part of the living planet that attracted Vincent’s eye. He had a wonderful appreciation of the simple, and the overlooked. He saw the golds, browns and greens, and the dark shadows. The narrow path and the suggestion of grape vines, a vineyard, is just above the top edge of the canvas. Most painters would have picked the vineyard to paint. The irregular randomness of the deeply textured grass, on this day in May inspired Vincent. It is the kind of emptiness that attracts children to play and Walt Whitman to write Leaves of Grass. Just the earth, just the grass.

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