Seeking the Sublime in the Everyday

 No matter how many times I proof read, I always miss something.  From this morning's post" I also remember that once Alan and I were riding in the car with Dan at the wheel and a black CAT  crossed the street ahead of us. Dan backed all the way up the street and went around the block to avoid crossing the cat's path.  We thought that was amazing and never knew if he was really superstitious or he was teasing us.  Thank you Sam and Kristen for your sharp eyes.

Saturday morning as I stepped outside I thought of this poem, at least the first line;   i thank you God for most this amazing day:  for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes That first line always springs to my mind on a lovely day and Saturday was definitely that; Canada's smoke had mostly lifted and the air felt clean. As I walked by the river, giving thanks for the day and for ee c ummings , the life of my uncle Dan came quietly to a close. George Daniel Swanson, the youngest of my Dad's three brothers, big brother to our beloved Aunt Jan, half way between my parents and me in age, was a wonderful uncle.  Look how carefully he's rolling up my sleeve. He was the last of his generation so now I picture them all together; here at their home in Sag Harbor, which we all thought of as pretty close to Heaven, And here, probably on their way to church.  Dan was his mother's ...

“One’s work is nothing but the long journey through life to recover, through the detours of art, the one or two great and simple images that first gained access to one’s heart.”                                                                                                       Robert Beverly Hale quoting Albert Camus The first time I heard this quote, at an Art Student's League dinner, I thought, "Well, that doesn't apply to me." I was deep into my bird period; drawing their feather patterns was great practice for my pen technique but I wasn't a bird watcher or anything.  Then I went home for a visit and my mother said, "Let's have a slideshow. She pulled out all the old family ...

I have two bits of news today.  First, last Friday Molly, Jessie and I  went to the Whitey Museum to see the work of  Jaune Quick-to-See Smith My dear friend, Morton Winston, gave me a rule for viewing art with kids--keep it short and immediately administer vitamin I (Ice cream). So then we met Arthur and Russell for lunch. I also gave Molly some homework.  I'm a fan of Austen Kleon, who wrote Steal Like an Artist ,  a terrific read.  We all take from each other, whether we call it inspiration, appropriation, stealing or imitating.  My teacher Frank Mason said, "If you take from another artist, don't borrow, because you won't want to give it back." In the work of Jaune Quick-to-See Smith you see references to many other artists which to me shows the depth and breadth of her life and work. I pointed out a few to Molly and suggested she look them up. She's off to camp now but maybe in the dog days of August I'll remind her. Here's a map of the United Sta...

I'm thinking of starting a Russell Hudson Sherman Book Club,  based on the choices he makes for his chewing habit.  The latest was my mother's High School yearbook.  Mom grew up in Smithtown, Long Island,  a small town, in those days surrounded by potato fields, where everyone knew everyone.   I was shopping with her at Lord and Taylor in New York City years ago when the salesman looked at her American Express card and said,            “Bank of Smithtown!   I’m from Smithtown.” Mom said, “Oh, really?   what’s your name?”           “Bill Glamore.” “I dated your father.”           That’s a small town.  A banker in a small town knows everyone--and probably their parents and grandparents.  He knows their business as well. Here's an ad placed by the Bank of Smithtown. Of course all local business supported the school and wished the graduates w...