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The Lovers’ Chronicle 13 January – solace – art by Chaïm Soutine

13 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Random

Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

i did not believe myself, you know, although i was attracted by it from time to time, back when i was pretendin’ at bein’ me, and then came the time of wallowin’ in without and the solace found there, but then i yielded to its influence almost in spite of myself, and it is more than i hoped and all that matters and i am amazed

the words that bind

acceptin’ the promise

now here, were we not

chosen, yes, i want that

how strongly it keeps

undone, what came before

what is the name of the place

where your heart aspires

ascension, regardless of will

time to finish the song

i want to hear us sing

tried to paint

a true portrait

thought i could see it,

and i was close,

but i could not

time and distance

intervened and tried

to alter it, but

somehow

it would not change

and finally comin’

into focus, i can see,

since that decade ago day

the nature of this bond

Pale Love, Pale Rider

from this view of hurt
in the grip of feelin’s,
overcome the grief

repentance calls

possession prefers
the pleasure of reverence

point of no return
the vow binds to veneration

rather than accept the promise
lost reason for remembrance
impose self-denial to keep goin’

now penance directs
acceptance, satisfaction
no, little beyond reproach
and want, how wrongly it keeps

kept undone
for solace
but farewell

what is the name of the place
where aspirations, regardless
of intent, will probe where tends
the mystery, and confirm ascension

unwanted is
as unwanted does

this continues,
to feel so good
about bein’ here

a smile, i know
it only makes
a certain sorta sense
but there it was
the pull is strong
and i succumb

tho there is no denyin’
i know where lies,
in another kinda smile,
the true, best purpose

for now, however,
as the snow falls
and the temperature
heads for sub-zero;
another log for the fire
more aged Hendrick’s
and the solace
of this vision,
voices from the past,
the pursuit of verse
and light, provides
shelter from the storms

true portrait drawn then

since erased
face of truth
want without seein’,
without regret
apologize, yet not
you git the point
too hidden to be recognized
unable to fear, this is the time
in all that appears, but not there
yet hidden behind everything
continuous

as the aim of despair draws near,
and for little that it offers,
would have seen me aver

concur blindly from this view of hurt
when in the grip of sincere feelin’s,
resentment overcame the good
when repentance called
a possession of the pitiful
a preferred graven crown
the pleasure of reverence

point of no return
and the vow that binds to veneration
but rather than acceptin’ the promise
lost reason for remembrance
impose self-denial in order to maintain

now in Her trance; to direct penance
had i accepted; vengeance satisfied
no, would have little beyond reproach
and i want that; how it wrongly keeps me

me, kept undone; a motive for Her darkness
my soul, She remits to eternity

what is the name of the place
where your heart aspires
ascension, regardless of your intent

but farewell will probe where tends the mystery,
and confirms my refusal

Chaïm Soutine
Chaim Soutine (with signature)

Today is the birthday of Chaïm Soutine (Smilavichy, Russian Empire 13 January 1893 – 9 August 1943 Paris); painter of Belarusian Jewish origin. Soutine made a major contribution to the expressionist movement while living in Paris. Inspired by classic painting in the European tradition, Soutine developed an individual style more concerned with shape, color, and texture over representation, which served as a bridge between more traditional approaches and the developing form of Abstract Expressionism.

Gallery

Portait de Madeleine Castaing, v. 1929

Amedeo Modigliani, Portrait de Chaïm Soutine (1916)

Autoportrait, vers 1917, huile sur toile (54,6 × 45,7 cm). Soutine n’aimait guère se peindre, et ne l’a fait qu’au début de sa carrière.

Nature morte à la lampe, vers 1916 (huile sur toile, 65,3 × 54,4 cm).

Nature morte à la soupière, vers 1916 (huile sur toile).

Nature morte aux harengs et aux oignons, vers 1917 (huile sur toile, 61,3 × 37,9 cm).

Nature morte avec violon, pain et poisson, vers 1922 (huile sur toile, 21,25 × 25,5 cm).

Les Glaïeuls, vers 1919, huile sur toile (46 × 56 cm). Ici apparaît et éclate le fameux rouge vermillon de Soutine.

La Maison blanche, 1918 (huile sur toile, 50 × 65 cm).

Paysage avec personnages, vers 1919 (huile sur toile, 80 × 60 cm).

Paysage aux toits rouges, 1919 (huile sur toile, 65,5 × 50,1 cm).

Les Platanes à Céret, vers 1920 (huile sur toile, 72,5 × 53,5 cm).

Les Maisons, vers 1921 (huile sur toile, 92 × 58 cm).

Le Petit Pâtissier, vers 1923, huile sur toile (54 × 73 cm). Celui qui a ravi Albert Barnes, changeant le destin de Soutine, a une oreille bien plus énorme.

Le lapin, vers 1923 (huile sur toile, 36 × 73 cm).

Dindon et tomates, vers 1924 (huile sur toile, 49 × 81 cm).

Le dindon, vers 1925 (huile sur toile, 65 × 80 cm).

Le canard, 1925 (huile sur toile, 57 × 93 cm).

Le Poulet plumé, 1925 (huile sur toile, 40 × 67 cm).

Bœuf et tête de veau, vers 1925 (huile sur toile, 73 × 92 cm).

Soutine revoit au Louvre le Bœuf écorché de Rembrandt, peint sur bois en 1655.

Pour son Bœuf écorché peint sur toile en 1925, Soutine choisit un fond bleu discordant.

La Jeune anglaise, vers 1934, huile sur toile (55 × 46 cm). Silhouette menue et lèvres fardées rappellent un peu M^me Castaing.

Le Grand Arbre, 1942, huile sur toile (99 × 75 cm), offre un exemple de la nouvelle palette froide de Soutine.

Mac Tag

chaim soutine, the lovers almanac

The Lovers’ Chronicle 12 January – again – art by Jean Béraud & John Singer Sargent

12 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Random

Dear Zazie,

I am moved beyond words by your latest note. Thank you. You know your man. That is exactly what I would have done. Well, I might have stopped to thank them, for their loss is my gain. Oh, and that grin would have probably turned to a big smile as I walked out the door. Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

as you know, been writin’

and wonderin’ for a long time

about whether i would ever

unsaddle and stop wanderin’

always before, it just felt like

when i stopped, i was only

stoppin’ long enough

to check the binds

and jump another fence

i believe it is time

the cowboy gets the girl

Pale Love, Pale Rider

well i just want to know

how the hell you let

yourself feel

after all the miles

you shoulda known,

only stop long enough

to check the binds

what you were built for,

no sense of permanence

with purpose found

only in this vision

yes, play it that way,

the way it shall be

it changes you
what could i suggest
but to stop often
and take it in

the celebration found
in the smallest details

a sip of espresso
a once ago kiss
words and the feelin’s
they conjure in us
the tug of what was
in a pulse before
the veil falls

just watched
Walk the Line
yep, again
will never git enough
of Johnny and June

‘parently,
it was too much
to ask, fate and god
and magic and hope
to bring me my June
she ain’t comin’

let us see,
what else is on…

oh sweet jesus,
not sure i have the strength
to watch Cold Mountain
yep, again

oh good,
Hustle is on
think i can handle
Reynolds and Deneuve

to relate the looks or thoughts
through rhythm or rhyme
through light
or otherwise

to recall the sensations,
from mutual passion
to be confined
by the comfort
of those visions

thus it cannot be supposed
to have the will
to go there again

misfortune or miracle
blessin’ or curse…

to have been there,
to have felt,
to have been
half of a whole

Jean Béraud
Self portrait (ca. 1909)

Today is the birthday of Jean Béraud (Saint Petersburg; January 12, 1848 – October 4, 1935 Paris); painter known for his numerous paintings depicting the life of Paris, and the nightlife of Paris society. His paintings of the Champs Elysees, cafés, Montmartre and the banks of the Seine are detailed illustrations of everyday Parisian life during the “Belle Époque”.

Gallery

L’escrimeuse

Symphony in Red and Gold

A Windy Day on the Pont des Arts

Café Gloppe

Paris scenes
Blanche Vesnić (née Ulman)
Le Cafe de Paris
La Lettre
Personnages
Au Bistro
Après la faute
La Partie De Billard
Les Buveurs d’absinthe. 1908
À la salle Graffard
Representation at the Theatre des Varietes

Paris cityscapes
The Milliner on the Champs Elysées
Sortant De La Madeleine, Paris
Home, Driver
l’Église de la Sainte-Trinité
The Wait
La Sortie du bourgeois
Le Boulevard Saint-Denis
Jeune femme traversant le boulevard
Boulevard des Capucines
Paris Kiosk 1880-1884, Walters Art Museum
Parisienne place de la Concorde
Le Bal Mabile

John Singer Sargent
Self-Portrait, 1906, oil on canvas, Uffizi Gallery, Florence.

And today is the birthday of John Singer Sargent (Florence; January 12, 1856 – April 14, 1925 London); artist, and one of the leading portrait painter of his generation. During his career, he created roughly 900 oil paintings and more than 2,000 watercolors, as well as countless sketches and charcoal drawings. His oeuvre documents worldwide travel, from Venice to the Tyrol, Corfu, the Middle East, Montana, Maine, and Florida.

Sargent was a lifelong bachelor.

Gallery

Fanny Watts, Sargent’s childhood friend. The first painting at Paris Salon, 1877, Philadelphia Museum of Art

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit, 1882, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

An Out-of-Doors Study, 1889, depicting Paul César Helleu sketching with his wife Alice Guérin. The Brooklyn Museum, New York.

El Jaleo (Spanish Dancer), c. 1879–82, Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum

Portrait of Madame X 1884

Mrs Henry White, 1883, Corcoran Gallery of Art

Lady Agnew of Lochnaw, 1893, National Gallery of Scotland

Morning Walk, 1888, private collection

Sargent emphasized Almina Wertheimer’s exotic beauty in 1908 by dressing her en turquerie.

Gondoliers’ Siesta, c. 1904, watercolor

Muddy Alligators, 1917, watercolor

Theodore Roosevelt, 1903.

Rosina, 1878, depicting Rosina Ferrara

Arsène Vigeant, 1885, Musées de Metz

Claude Monet Painting by the Edge of a Wood, 1885, the Tate, London

Robert Louis Stevenson and His Wife, 1885, Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art

Mrs. Cecil Wade, 1886 The Nelson-Atkins Museum
Elizabeth Allen Marquand, 1887, Princeton University Art Museum
Edwin Booth, 1890, Amon Carter Museum of American Art
Mrs. Hugh Hammersley, 1892
Frederick Law Olmsted, 1895
Mrs. Carl Meyer and her Children, 1896
Mrs. Joshua Montgomery Sears (Sarah Choate Sears), 1899
The Wyndham Sisters: Lady Elcho, Mrs. Adeane, and Mrs. Tennant, 1899
Lady Helen Vincent in Venice, 1904
Mrs. Fiske Warren (Gretchen Osgood) and Her Daughter Rachel, 1903
Mrs. Waldorf Astor, 1909
George Curzon, 1st Marquess Curzon of Kedleston, 1914, Royal Geographical Society
Cora, Countess of Strafford, 1908
John D. Rockefeller, 1917

A Dinner Table at Night, 1884, De Young Museum, San Francisco, CA
Street in Venice, c. 1882, National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC
The Misses Vickers, 1884, Weston Park Museum
Dans Les Oliviers, 1878
Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose, 1885–86, the Tate, London
Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth, 1889
The Sitwell Family, 1900. From left: Dame Edith Sitwell (1887–1964), Sir George Sitwell, Lady Ida Sitwell, Sir Sacheverell Sitwell (1897–1988), and Sir Osbert Sitwell (1892–1969)
The Fountain, Villa Torlonia, Frascati, Italy, 1907

Bedouins, c. 1905–06, watercolor, Brooklyn Museum of Art
Villa di Marlia, Lucca, 1910, watercolor, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
Artist in the Simplon, c. 1909, watercolor, Fogg Museum of Art
On the Deck of the Yacht Constellation, 1924, watercolor, Peabody Essex Museum, Salem, Massachusetts
Karer See, 1914, watercolor
Simplon Pass- The Tease, 1911, transparent watercolor, opaque watercolor and wax over graphite pencil on paper
The Garden Wall, 1910, watercolor
Gourds, 1906–10, watercolor, Brooklyn Museum

Mac Tag

jean beraud, john singer sargent, the lovers almanac, the lovers chronicle

The Lovers’ Chronicle 11 January – solo – verse by Bayard Taylor – art by Georgios Jakobides

11 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Love, Poems, Random, Songs

Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge. Do you tremble in solitude? I did, before I found you. Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

from a desert i came to thee
solo on verse shod with feelin’s
and the past left far behind
in the arms of desire under
our will we start and time
hears us and i but thee
with all that will be
under no illusions
as long as we
have words
and pulse

been puttin’ off

doin’ some things

that needed doin’

because, why

now i have a reason

absolutely revelin’

in this new found

reason for bein’

decidin’ to be,

to share this vision

to be half of a whole

roses never opened

for you before

now all that we want

will open for us

Pale Love, Pale Rider

from without i come

on verse shod only

with how i feel

and left behind

in desire,

under no illusion,

i cannot let that happen

who might hear the cry

of words not said, of loss

and best served in solitude

till the verse runs out

and the pulse no more

i am grown old

before the dream…

alone became
all there could be
ridin’ down the same trail
weathered, hardened,
beard mostly grey
long blonde hair
under a hat, black
as a fire-gutted citadel
pale blue eyes
fightin’ back the years

come and stand at dusk
same spot each time
turn the words loose
or they will grow
too crowded to relieve

carefully chosen, softly spoken
words, flyin’ all round then
they float, ridin’ the wind
into the shadows
that wait for night

readin’, writin’, waitin’
this vision, these voices
from the past, chasin’
light, this verse
this solitude
yearned for, for years
the longin’ once so fierce
fades in the rear view
a certain clarity
takin’ its place
and thus this…
should this vision
be shared

Solo

Long before the dream they called him Solo

Alone became all there could be
He rides down the same trail daily
Weathered, hardened, beard mostly grey
Long blonde hair under a hat, black
As a fire-gutted citadel
Pale blue eyes fightin’ back the years
Tremblin’ in solitude

He comes and stands at dusk
His spot each time the same
He has to turn his words loose
Or they will grow too crowded to relieve
Carefully chosen, softly spoken
Words, flyin’ all round him then
They float on the breeze, ridin’ the wind
Into the shadows that wait for night

In his early years,
His prime yet not in sight
Before beauty’s force he knew
Or of false delight
Or to what burden
She did her captives hold

He wondered in his solitude
And first began to read, and write
And so to praise a true desire
Love smiled to see what a disguise
He turned those words of the tale of old
And, that he might more mysteries behold,
Was set so fair a woman to his eyes,
That with her, learned the ways of love

Learned what it was to be half of a whole
No longer captive in solitude
They took their happiness
Beyond ridiculous, taste be damned
Then Fate, or God, or Magic,
Have it as you will, intervened
And the book closed with sighs
And he returned to solitude

After that, ridin’ all over the West
From Mexico to Alaska
Willin’ girls in saloons and cantinas
Gave shelter from the storms
Always searchin’ for, never findin’
What had once been held so dear
Kept movin’ on till one day
She spoke in a dream and he stopped

And so he reads and writes and waits
And rides down the same trail
Holdin’ back and chokin’ back
The long lost years and tears
And he stops where lost love lies
And reads his poems aloud,
Settin’ the words free on the wind,
And trembles in solitude

The Song of the Day is Willie Nelson‘s version of “Blues Eyes Cryin’ in the Rain” by Fred Rose. We do not own the rights to this song. No copyright infringement intended.

Bayard Taylor

Today is the birthday of Bayard Taylor (Chester County, Pennsylvania; January 11, 1825 – December 19, 1878 Berlin); poet, literary critic, translator, travel author, and diplomat.

Verse

If she but smile, the crystal calm shall break
In music, sweeter than it ever gave,
As when a breeze breathes o’er some sleeping lake,
And laughs in every wave.
- “The Return of the Goddess” (1850), later published as the Preface to The Poet’s Journal (1863); also in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 103.

From the Desert I come to thee
On a stallion shod with fire;
And the winds are left behind
In the speed of my desire.
Under thy window I stand,
And the midnight hears my cry:
I love thee, I love but thee,
With a love that shall not die
Till the sun grows cold,
And the stars are old,
And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!
- “Bedouin Song” (1853), in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 69.

They sang of love, and not of fame;
Forgot was Britain’s glory;
Each heart recalled a different name,
But all sang Annie Lawrie.
- “The Song of the Camp” (1856), in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 86.

All, wherein I have part,
All that was loss or gain, Slips from the clasping heart,
Breaks from the grasping brain.
Lo, what is left? I am bare
As a new-born soul, — I am naught:
My deeds are dust in air,
My words are ghosts of thought.
I ride through the night alone,
Detached from the life that seemed,
And the best I have felt or known
Is less than the least I dreamed.
- “The Guests of Night” (1871), st. 3 – 4, in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 314.

Once let the Angel blow! —
A peal from the parted heaven,
The first of seven! For the time is come that was foretold
So long ago!
As the avalanche gathers, huge and cold,
From the down of the harmless snow,
The years and the ages gather and hang
Till the day when the word is spoken:
When they that dwell in the end of time
Are smitten alike for the early crime,
As the vials of wrath are broken!
- “Gabriel” in The Century : A Popular Quarterly, Volume 18 (1874), p. 617.

Yes, let the Angel blow!
A peal from the parted heaven,
The first of seven!—
The warning, not yet the sign, of woe!
That men arise
And look about them with wakened eyes,
Behold on their garments the dust and slime,
Refrain, forbear,
Accept the weight of a nobler care
And take reproach from the fallen time!
- “Gabriel” in The Century : A Popular Quarterly, Volume 18 (1874), p. 617.

The Poet’s Journal (1863)

Thunder-spasms the waking be
Into Life from Apathy:
Life, not Death, is in the gale, —
Let the coming Doom prevail!
- First Evening, “A Symbol”.

No visitors shall yonder valley find.
Except the spirits of the rain and wind:
Here you must bide, my friends, with me entombed
In this dim crypt, where shelved around us lie
The mummied authors.
- “Third Evening”.

Georgios Jakobides
Georgios Jakobides

Today is the birthday of Georgios Jakobides (Lesbos, Ottoman Empire 11 January 1853 – 13 December 1932 Athens); painter and one of the main representatives of the Greek artistic movement of the Munich School. He founded and was the first curator of the National Gallery of Greece in Athens.

Gallery

Daydreaming 1884

The miliner

20230111_194213

Young lady from Munich

The Girl 1876

Jakobides in his studio, photographed by Carl Teufel, 1883

Portrait of King George I
Portrait of Queen Sofia of Greece
Pavlos Melas
The Girl
Bavarian village

Mac Tag

bayard taylpr, blue eyes crying in the rain, cowboy coleridge, fred rose, georgios jakobides, love letter, love poem, muse, poem of the day, Rhett, song of the day, the lovers almanac, tremblin, tremblin in solitude, twt, willie nelson, Zazie

The Lovers’ Chronicle 10 January – edge – birth of Pina Menichelli – verse by Robinson Jeffers – art by Eldzier Cortor

10 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Random

Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

then what is the answer

to believe in dreams

to know who you want

ok, so it was not that tough

doin’ somethin’ prevailed

i know, shockin’ right

no longer content

with the sidelines,

watchin’ and writin’

as it all slip slides away

made a choice,

perhaps

the best choice

i have ever made

Pale Love, Pale Rider

this wanderin’ light
swear at night where
the Fates take you
keep your fadin’ pleasure
she escapes already

at least you have seen
it will cross your path again
fallin’ you can take it with you
in the far away

at the bottom
of the mournful sky
contemplate sufferin’,
it will come and go

on the edge and under this look,
a moment, be still your farewell
do you see now, how it must be
for the unforgiven

blinded by this wanderin’ light
swear at night where the Fates plunge you
always keep, your fadin’ pleasure
she escapes already

at least you have seen Shine
it will cross your path once again
fallin’ you can take it with you
in the far far away

for She reigns at the bottom of the mournful sky
ruthless bein’, contemplate sufferin’,
considerin’ Her eternal eye, impassive,
it will come and go

on the edge of forever, and under this look,
a moment of love, be still your farewell
do you see now, how it must be
for the unforgiven

Today is the birthday of Pina Menichelli (Giuseppa Iolanda Menichelli; Castroreale, Sicliy 10 January 1890 – 29 August 1984 Milan); actress and silent film star. After a career in theatre and a series of small film roles, Menichelli was launched as a film star when Giovanni Pastrone gave her the lead role in The Fire (1916). Over the next nine years, Menichelli made a series of films, often trading on her image as a diva and on her passionate, decadent eroticism. Menichelli became a global star, and one of the most appreciated actresses in Italian cinema, before her retirement in 1924, aged 34.

Since her death, restorations of Menichelli’s surviving films have been shown at important film festivals, and her filmography has been re-assembled and re-evaluated by film historians.

Original poster for Il Fuoco (1916).

Menichelli in Tigre Reale (1916).

An unconscious Menichelli at the start of Storia di una donna

During a theatrical tour of Argentina in 1909, Menichelli married an Italo-Argentine, Libero Pica, and the couple had three children. The couple separated when Menichelli was pregnant with their third child, a daughter called Cesarina, who was born in Milan in 1912.

The fact that Menichelli was a ‘separated woman’ was well-known to the Italian public.

On the death of her first husband, who had always refused to annul their marriage, Menichelli married Baron Carlo D’Amato, founder of Rinascimento Film, in 1924. Menichelli retired from public life and refused all contact with film historians. Menichelli also destroyed all the documents and photographs relating to her film career which were in her possession.

Robinson Jeffers
Robinson Jeffers, photographed by Carl Van Vechten, July 9, 1937

Today is the birthday of Robinson Jeffers (born John Robinson Jeffers; Allegheny, Pennsylvania; January 10, 1887 – January 20, 1962 Carmel, California); poet, known for his work about the central California coast.

He earned his bachelor’s degree from Occidental College at age 18. After he graduated from Occidental, Jeffers went to the University of Southern California (USC) to study at first literature, and then medicine.

He met Una Call Kuster in 1906; she was three years older than he was, a graduate student, and the wife of a Los Angeles attorney. Jeffers and Mrs. Kuster became lovers. Mr. Kuster discovered their affair in 1910. Jeffers dropped out of USC medical school and enrolled as a forestry student at the University of Washington in Seattle, a course of study that he abandoned after a semester, at which time he returned to Los Angeles. By 1912 the affair became a scandal, reaching the front page of the Los Angeles Times. Una spent some time in Europe to quiet things down, then the lovers lived together by Lake Washington to await the completion of Una’s divorce.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The two were married in 1913, then moved to La Jolla, California, and finally Carmel, California, where Jeffers constructed their home, Tor House and Hawk Tower, a gift of love for Una. Una died of cancer in 1950.

Verse

O that our souls could scale a height like this,
A mighty mountain swept o’er by the bleak
Keen winds of heaven; and, standing on that peak
Above the blinding clouds of prejudice,
Would we could see all truly as it is;
The calm eternal truth would keep us meek.
- A Hill-Top View (1904); This is one of his earliest poems, printed in the the Aurora, a student publication of Occidental College.

At the equinox when the earth was veiled in a late rain, wreathed with wet poppies, waiting spring
The ocean swelled for a far storm and beat its boundary, the ground-swell shook the beds of granite.
I gazing at the boundaries of granite and spray, the established sea-marks, felt behind me
Mountain and plain, the immense breadth of the continent, before me the mass and double stretch of water.
- “Continent’s End” in Tamar and Other Poems (1924)

The long migrations meet across you and it is nothing to you, you have forgotten us, mother.
You were much younger when we crawled out of the womb and lay in the sun’s eye on the tideline.
It was long and long ago; we have grown proud since then and you have grown bitter; life retains
Your mobile soft unquiet strength; and envies hardness, the insolent quietness of stone.
- “Continent’s End” in Tamar and Other Poems (1924)

The tides are in our veins, we still mirror the stars, life is your child, but there is in me
Older and harder than life and more impartial, the eye that watched before there was an ocean.
- “Continent’s End” in Tamar and Other Poems (1924)

Mother, though my song’s measure is like your surf-beat’s ancient rhythm I never learned it of you.
Before there was any water there were tides of fire, both our tones flow from the older fountain.
- “Continent’s End” in Tamar and Other Poems (1924)

Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you fore-defeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain.
- “To The Stone-Cutters” in Tamar and Other Poems (1924)

Happy people die whole, they are all dissolved in a moment,
they have had what they wanted
- “Post Mortem” in The Women at Point Sur (1927)

I have seen these ways of God: I know of no reason
For fire and change and torture and the old returnings.
- “Apology for Bad Dreams” in The Women at Point Sur (1927)

I hate my verses, every line, every word.
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade’s curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.
- “Love the Wild Swan” (1935)

This wild swan of a world is no hunter’s game.
Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast
Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
Does it matter whether you hate your . . . self?
At least Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.
- “Love the Wild Swan” (1935)

Here is a symbol in which
Many high tragic thoughts
Watch their own eyes.
- “Rock and Hawk” in Solstice and Other Poems (1935)

I think, here is your emblem
To hang in the future sky;
Not the cross, not the hive,
But this; bright power, dark peace;
Fierce consciousness joined with final
Disinterestedness;
Life with calm death; the falcon’s
Realist eyes and act
Married to the massive
Mysticism of stone,
Which failure cannot cast down
Nor success make proud.
- “Rock and Hawk” in Solstice and Other Poems (1935)

Then what is the answer? — Not to be deluded by dreams.
To know that great civilizations have broken down into violence, and their tyrants come, many times before.
When open violence appears, to avoid it with honor or choose the least ugly faction; these evils are essential.
To keep one’s own integrity, be merciful and uncorrupted and not wish for evil; and not be duped
By dreams of universal justice or happiness. These dreams will not be fulfilled.
- “The Answer” (1936)

Know that however ugly the parts appear
the whole remains beautiful. A severed hand
Is an ugly thing and man dissevered from the earth and stars
and his history… for contemplation or in fact…
Often appears atrociously ugly. Integrity is wholeness,
the greatest beauty is
Organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty
of the universe. Love that, not man
Apart from that, or else you will share man’s pitiful confusions,
or drown in despair when his days darken.
- “The Answer” (1936)

There is no reason for amazement: surely one always knew that cultures decay, and life’s end is death.
- “The Purse-Seine” (1937)

Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
formerly used to kill men, but here
In the sense of a symbol.
- “Contemplation of The Sword” (1938)
Dear God, who are the whole splendor of things and the sacred
stars, but also the cruelty and greed, the treacheries
And vileness, insanities and filth and anguish: now that this
thing comes near us again I am finding it hard
To praise you with a whole heart.
- “Contemplation of The Sword” (1938)

I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots
to make earth.
- “Shine, Perishing Republic” (1939)

Meteors are not needed less than mountains:
shine, perishing republic.
- “Shine, Perishing Republic” (1939)

Corruption never has been compulsory; when the cities lie at the monster’s feet there are left the mountains.
- “Shine, Perishing Republic” (1939)

And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant,
insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught — they say —
God, when he walked on earth.
- “Shine, Perishing Republic” (1939)

The world’s in a bad way, my man,
And bound to be worse before it mends;
Better lie up in the mountain here
Four or five centuries,
While the stars go over the lonely ocean…
- “The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean” (1940)

Keep clear of the dupes that talk democracy
And the dogs that talk revolution,
Drunk with talk, liars and believers.
I believe in my tusks.
Long live freedom and damn the ideologies.
- “The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean” (1940)

That public men publish falsehoods
Is nothing new. That America must accept
Like the historical republics corruption and empire
Has been known for years.
Be angry at the sun for setting
If these things anger you.
- “Be Angry At The Sun” (1941)

The gang serves lies, the passionate
Man plays his part; the cold passion for truth
Hunts in no pack.
- “Be Angry At The Sun” (1941)

I will have shepherds for my philosophers,
Tall dreary men lying on the hills all night
Watching the stars, let their dogs watch the sheep. And I’ll have lunatics
For my poets, strolling from farm to farm, wild liars distorting
The country news into supernaturalism —
For all men to such minds are devils or gods — and that increases
Man’s dignity, man’s importance, necessary lies
Best told by fools.

“The Silent Shepherds” (1958)

Science and mathematics
Run parallel to reality, they symbolize it, they squint at it,
They never touch it: consider what an explosion
Would rock the bones of men into little white fragments and unsky the world
If any mind for a moment touch truth.
- “The Silent Shepherds” (1958)

He is no God of love, no justice of a little city like
Dante’s Florence, no anthropoid God
Making commandments: this is the God who does not
care and will never cease. Look at the seas there
Flashing against this rock in the darkness — look at the
tide-stream stars — and the fall of nations — and dawn
Wandering with wet white feet down the Carmel Valley
to meet the sea. These are real and we see their beauty.
The great explosion is probably only a metaphor — I know
not — of faceless violence, the root of all things.
- “The Great Explosion” in the posthumous publication The Beginning and the End (1973)

Come little ones,
You are worth no more than the foxes and yellow
wolfkins, yet I will give you wisdom.
O future children:
Trouble is coming; the world as of the present time
Sails on its rocks; but you will be born and live
Afterwards. Also a day will come when the earth
Will scratch herself and smile and rub off humanity:
But you will be born before that.Time will come, no doubt,
When the sun too shall die; the planets will freeze,
and the air on them; frozen gases, white flasks of air
Will be dust: which no wind ever will stir: this very
dust in dim starlight glistening
Is dead wind, the white corpse of wind.
Also the galaxy will die; the glitter of the Milky Way,
our universe, all the stars that have names are dead.
Vast is the night. How you have grown, dear night,
walking your empty halls, how tall!
- The Double Axe and Other Poems, including eleven suppressed poems (1977) II.The Inhumanist XLV

When the sun shouts and people abound
One thinks there were the ages of stone and the age of bronze
And the iron age; iron the unstable metal;
Steel made of iron, unstable as his mother; the towered-up cities
Will be stains of rust on mounds of plaster.
Roots will not pierce the heaps for a time, kind rains will cure them,
Then nothing will remain of the iron age
And all these people but a thigh-bone or so, a poem
Stuck in the world’s thought, splinters of glass
In the rubbish dumps, a concrete dam far off in the mountain…
- “Summer Holiday”

The extraordinary patience of things!
This beautiful place defaced with a crop of suburban houses —
How beautiful when we first beheld it,
Unbroken field of poppy and lupin walled with clean cliffs;
No intrusion but two or three horses pasturing…
- “Carmel Point”

Now the spoiler has come: does it care?
Not faintly. It has all time. It knows the people are a tide
That swells and in time will ebb, and all
Their works dissolve. Meanwhile the image of the pristine beauty
Lives in the very grain of the granite,
Safe as the endless ocean that climbs our cliff. — As for us:
We must uncenter our minds from ourselves;
We must unhumanize our views a little, and become confident
As the rock and ocean that we were made from.
- “Carmel Point”

Against the outcrop boulders of a raised beach
We built our house when I and my love were young.
- “The Last Conservative”

The rock-cheeks have red fire-stains.
But the place was maiden, no previous
Building, no neighbors, nothing but the elements,
Rock, wind, and sea; in moon-struck nights the mountain
Coyotes howled in our dooryard; or doe and fawn
Stared in the lamplit window, We raised two boys here
All that we saw or heard was beautiful
And hardly human.
Oh heavy change.
The world deteriorates like a rotting apple, worms and a skin.
They have built streets around us, new houses
Line them and cars obsess them — and my dearest has died.
The ocean at least is not changed at all,Cold, grim, and faithful; and I still keep a hard edge of forest
Haunted by long gray squirrels and hoarse herons.
- “The Last Conservative”

If you should look for this place after a handful of lifetimes:
Perhaps of my planted forest a few
May stand yet, dark-leaved Australians or the coast cypress, haggard
With storm-drift; but fire and the axe are devils.
Look for foundations of sea-worn granite, my fingers had the art
To make stone love stone, you will find some remnant.
But if you should look in your idleness after ten thousand years:
It is the granite knoll on the granite
And lava tongue in the midst of the bay, by the mouth of the Carmel
River Valley; these four will remain
In the changes of names. You will know it by the wild sea-fragrance of the wind.
- “Tor House”

Here from this mountain shore, headland beyond stormy headland
plunging like dolphins through the blue sea-smoke
Into pale sea — look west at the hill of water: it is half the planet:
this dome, this half-globe, this bulging
Eyeball of water, arched over to Asia,
Australia and white Antarctica: those are the eyelids that never close;
this is the staring unsleeping
Eye of the earth; and what it watches is not our wars.
- “The Eye”

And today is the birthday of Eldzier Cortor (January 10, 1916 – November 26, 2015); African-American artist and printmaker. His work typically features elongated nude figures in intimate settings, influenced by both traditional African art and European surrealism. Cortor is known for his style of realism that makes accurate depictions of poor, Black living conditions look fantastic as he distorts perspective.

Gallery

The Room No. VI, c. 1948

‘Lady with Fan II’ (2005)

Classical Study 41

Mac Tag

pina menichelli, robinson jeffers, the lovers almanac, the lovers chronicle

The Lovers’ Chronicle 9 January – awakenin’ – art by Simon Vouet – birth of Simone de Beauvoir

09 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Random

Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

when breath passes through your lips,

holdin’ you suspended at the entrance,

prone spread open, through you desire

feelin’, helpless, huggin’ you closer

without measure in an ardent swarm

such transport is already the future

that stirs in us, this touch, all there is

it certainly was

he walked into

the large foyer

she was standin’

a few feet away

he noticed her fine figure

and her long blonde hair

she looked excitin’

and mysterious

like someone you see

drivin’ by, alone,

in a convertible,

someone unattainable

and more desirable

than anyone

you have ever known

someone who is on her way

to make love to somebody else

someone who is not for you…

and you were not

though i wanted you

more than i have ever

wanted anyone

and now,

a decade later,

that i could be that someone

leaves me, wave on wave, awash

in feelin’s so strong, that i am

stugglin’ for the right words

Pale Love, Pale Rider

ok, so it was not
that tough
doin’ nothin’ prevailed
i know, shockin’ right
the sideline suits just fine
watchin’ and writin’
as it all slip slides away

bent, for sure
“Broken?”
mebbe
time will tell

an awakenin’
perhaps
a “to be or not to be”
moment for sure
this is tough
it would be so easy
to do nothin’
to take the path
of least resistance
to stay on the sidelines
and watch and write
as time slips away

when a breath passes through your lips,
on streams holdin’ you suspended
at the entrance, prone spread open

through you distraught

on this heart that will soon harden
another sufferin’ vain point of view,
feel you, helpless, you hug

infinity in your arms
delusions, these desires without measure
rampagin’ in your flanks as ardent swarms
such transport is already the future

that stirs in you
it will dissolve, this touch
that launched feelin’s of joy and pain
the winds disperse this dust
which was once a heartbeat

will other hearts emerge which will re-new
your broken hopes, of your love extinguished,
perpetuatin’ your tears, your dreams, your flame,
in distant agesall feelin’s, form a chain
the torch of what could be
quick take the truth
and make it turn

Today is the birthday of Simon Vouet (9 January 1590 – 30 June 1649); painter and draftsman, who today is perhaps best remembered for helping to introduce the Italian Baroque style of painting to France.

In 1626 he married Virginia da Vezzo, “a painter in her own right…known for her beauty,” who modeled as the Madonna and female saints for Vouet’s religious commissions. The couple would have five children. Virginia died in France in 1638. Two years later Vouet married a French widow, Radegonde Béranger, with whom he had three more children.

Gallery

Vénus Endormie, Musée des beaux-arts de Budapest

Diana

Virginia da Vezzo, the Artist’s Wife, as the Magdalen

Portrait de Louis XIII entre deux figures de Femmes symbolisant la France et la Navarre Paris, musée du Louvre

“La romaine avec père “, le musée des beaux arts de Riazan , Russie

La Mise au tombeau (vers 1636-1638), Le Havre, musée d’art moderne André-Malraux

Saint Louis recevant la couronne d’épines des mains de Jésus (1639), Paris, église Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis.

Saint Jérôme et l’ange (1620-1630), Washington, National Gallery of Art.

Portrait d’Angélique Vouet (1635-1638), pastel sur papier, Paris, musée du Louvre

Simone de Beauvoir
De Beauvoir in 1968

Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre in Beijing, 1955.

Today is the birthday of Simone Lucie Ernestine Marie Bertrand de Beauvoir (Paris; 9 January 1908 – 14 April 1986 Paris); writer, intellectual, existentialist philosopher, political activist, feminist and social theorist. Though she did not consider herself a philosopher, she had a significant influence on both feminist existentialism and feminist theory.

De Beauvoir wrote novels, essays, biographies, autobiography and monographs on philosophy, politics and social issues. She was known for her 1949 treatise Le Deuxième Sexe (The Second Sex), a detailed analysis of women’s oppression and a foundational tract of contemporary feminism; and for her novels, including She Came to Stay and The Mandarins. She was also known for her lifelong open relationship with French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre.

During October 1929, Jean-Paul Sartre and De Beauvoir became a couple and, after they were confronted by her father, Sartre asked her to marry him. De Beauvoir said, “Marriage was impossible. I had no dowry.” So they entered a lifelong relationship. De Beauvoir chose never to marry and did not set up a joint household with Sartre. She never had children. This gave her time to earn an advanced academic degree, to join political causes, to travel, to write, to teach and to have lovers (both male and female; the latter sometimes shared with Sartre).

Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir at the Balzac Memorial

Le Deuxième Sexe, 1949

On ne naît pas femme : on le devient.

Le Deuxième Sexe, Simone de Beauvoir, éd. Gallimard, 1950, t. II. L’expérience vécue, partie première: Formation, chap. premier: Enfance, p. 13

Le propre des manies et des vices, c’est d’engager la liberté à vouloir ce qu’elle ne veut pas.

Le Deuxième Sexe (1949), Simone de Beauvoir, éd. Gallimard, coll. « Folio », 1976, t. II. L’expérience vécue, p. 266

La femme est vouée à l’immoralité parce que la morale consiste pour elle à incarner une inhumaine entité : la femme forte, la mère admirable, l’honnête femme etc.

Le Deuxième Sexe (1949), Simone de Beauvoir, éd. Gallimard, coll. « Folio », 1976, t. II. L’expérience vécue, p. 310

C’est la femme qui travaille – paysanne, chimiste ou écrivain – qui a la grossesse la plus facile du fait qu’elle ne se fascine pas sur sa propre personne ; c’est la femme qui a la vie personnelle la plus riche qui donnera le plus à l’enfant et qui lui demandera le moins, c’est celle qui acquiert dans l’effort, dans la lutte, la connaissance des vraies valeurs humaines qui sera la meilleure éducatrice.

Le Deuxième Sexe (1949), Simone de Beauvoir, éd. Gallimard, coll. « Folio », 1976, t. II. L’expérience vécue, p. 384

Si l’on dit que les hommes oppriment les femmes, le mari s’indigne, mais le fait est que c’est le code masculin, c’est la société élaborée par les mâles et dans leur intérêt qui a défini la condition féminine sous une forme qui est à présent pour les deux sexes une source de tourments.

Le Deuxième Sexe (1949), Simone de Beauvoir, éd. Gallimard, coll. « Folio », 1976, t. II. L’expérience vécue, p. 237

Mac Tag

simon vouet, simone de beauvoir, the lovers almanac, the lovers chronicle

The Lovers’ Chronicle 8 January – dreams – art by Lawrence Alma-Tadema & Pavel Filanov

08 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Love, Poems, Random, Songs

Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge. Who is your dream weaver? Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

the dreams, the verse,

the long conversations

all of it wove together

somehow to sustain

over miles and years

through sufferin’,

through without

the ties that bind

this friendship

held and saved us

we were sent for each other

we just had to survive

until we got back

where we belong

fragmentation
or delusion
did i dream you

at times it feels
as if you were here
at other times

it feels like
you were long ago

still feel your skin
under mine
gently kneadin’
more, urgently…

it was that way
please,
tell me it was that way

are they comin’
fewer and farther
between
fadin’ in the rear view
at ninety miles an hour
places, time not
to be visited again

mile after mile
of nothin’
but open road,
the big sky,
plains stretchin’ out

can you hear me
i wonder
i do wish
you would come

Dream Weaver

This here is a fragmentation
Of my delicious delusion
Did I dream you
Do you exist

At times it feels
As if you were here next to me
At other times

It feels like you were long ago

I still feel your skin under mine
Gently kneadin’, always needin’
More, urgently pushin’, pressin’
Hot wet friction overwhelmin’

It was that way
Please, tell me it was that way

It was that way last night
In my dreams, you were there
Under the covers, whisperin’
And lovin’, touchin’ each other

Weavin’ our passion together
Dreamin’ of you
A good, good dream
A dream very
Like the dream Verlaine often dreamed
One that can still dispel my grief
A dream of you that will sustain
Until next you appear to me

Weavin’ this dream with the others
Of you to see me through the night

The Song of the Day is “Dream Weaver” by Gary Wright. Disclaimer: We do not own the rights to this song. No copyright infringement intended.

Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema

Today is the birthday of Lawrence Alma-Tadema (born Lourens Alma Tadema; Dronrijp, Netherlands 8 January 1836 – 25 June 1912 Weisbaden, German Empire); painter. Trained at the Royal Academy of Antwerp, Belgium, he settled in England in 1870 and spent the rest of his life there. A classical-subject painter, he became famous for his depictions of the luxury and decadence of the Roman Empire, with languorous figures set in marbled interiors or against a backdrop of blue Mediterranean Sea and sky.

On 24 September 1863 he was married, in Antwerp City Hall, to Marie-Pauline Gressin Dumoulin, the daughter of Eugène Gressin Dumoulin, a French journalist living near Brussels. Nothing is known of their meeting and little of Pauline herself, as Alma-Tadema never spoke about her after her death in 1869. Her image appears in a number of oils, though he painted her portrait only three times, the most notable appearing in My studio (1867). Alma-Tadema and his wife spent their honeymoon in Florence, Rome, Naples and Pompeii. This, his first visit to Italy, developed his interest in depicting the life of ancient Greece and Rome, especially the latter since he found new inspiration in the ruins of Pompeii, which fascinated him and would inspire much of his work in the coming decades.

On 28 May 1869, after years of ill health, Pauline died at Schaerbeek, in Belgium, at the age of thirty-two, of smallpox. Her death left Tadema disconsolate and depressed. He ceased painting for nearly four months.

During the summer Tadema himself began to suffer from a medical problem which doctors in Brussels were frustratingly unable to diagnose. Gambart eventually advised him to go to England for another medical opinion. Soon after his arrival in London in December 1869, Alma-Tadema was invited to the home of the painter Ford Madox Brown. There he met Laura Theresa Epps, who was seventeen years old, and fell in love with her at first sight.

The outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War in July 1870 compelled Alma-Tadema to leave the continent and move to London. His infatuation with Laura Epps played a great part in his relocation to England and Gambart felt that the move would be advantageous to the artist’s career. In stating his reasons for the move, Tadema simply said “I lost my first wife, a French lady with whom I married in 1863, in 1869. Having always had a great predilection for London, the only place where, up till then my work had met with buyers, I decided to leave the continent and go to settle in England, where I have found a true home.”

The painter wasted no time in contacting Laura, and it was arranged that he would give her painting lessons. During one of these, he proposed marriage. As he was then thirty-four and Laura was now only eighteen, her father was initially opposed to the idea. Dr Epps finally agreed on the condition that they should wait until they knew each other better. They married in July 1871. Laura, under her married name, also won a high reputation as an artist, and appears in numerous of Alma-Tadema’s canvases after their marriage (The Women of Amphissa (1887) being a notable example). This second marriage was enduring and happy.

On 15 August 1909 Laura, died at the age of fifty-seven. The grief-stricken widower outlived her by less than three years. His last major composition was Preparation in the Coliseum (1912). In the summer of 1912, Alma Tadema was accompanied by his daughter Anna to Kaiserhof Spa, Wiesbaden, Germany where he was to undergo treatment for ulceration of the stomach.He died there on 28 June 1912 at the age of seventy-six. He was buried in a crypt in St Paul’s Cathedral in London.

Gallery

Women of Amphissa1887

The Education of the Children of Clovis (1861), oil on canvas, 127 x 176.8 cm, private collection. Queen Clotilde, wife of King Clovis, is shown training her three young children the art of hurling the ax to avenge the death of her father.

Egyptian Chess Players (1865), oil on wood, 39.8 x 55.8 cm. Private collection.

Anna (in front) and Laurence 1873

The Tepidarium (1881), oil on panel, 24 x 33cm . The Lady Lever Art Gallery, Port Sunlight, UK. Lounging in the Tepidarium, the central hall joining the baths of ancient cities, a curvaceous beauty takes her rest.

The Roses of Heliogabalus (1888), oil on canvas, 132.1 x 213.7 cm, private collection. As it was painted during the winter, Tadema arranged to have roses sent weekly from the French Riviera for four months to ensure the accuracy of each petal.

Unconscious Rivals, (1893), oil on panel,45 x 63 cm, Bristol City Museum and Art Gallery. Here the two women are just probably waiting for a lover. The composition is balanced by the flowers in bloom.

Spring, (1894), oil on canvas,179.2 x 80.3 cm, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles. It depicts the festival of Cerealia in a Roman street. One of Tadema’s most famous and popular works, it took him four years to complete. The models for many of the participants and spectators were Tadema’s friends and members of his family

Portrait of Alma Tadema

Silver Favourites, 1903, oil on wood, 69.1 x 42.2 cm, Manchester Art Gallery.

The Finding of Moses, 1904, oil on canvas, 137.7 x 213.4 cm, private collection.

This painting completed in 1881, depicts Sappho and her companions listening as the poet Alcaeus plays a kithara, on the island of Lesbos (Mytilene). (Walters Art Museum)

An eloquent silence

Pavel Filonov
Self portrait

Today is the birthday of Pavel Nikolayevich Filonov (Moscow; January 8, 1883 – December 3, 1941); avant-garde painter, art theorist, and poet.

Gallery

A Peasant Family (The Holy Family), 1914, oil on canvas, 159×128 cm, Russian Museum.

Portrait of E. N. Glebova (the artist’s sister), 1915, oil on canvas. 117×152.5 cm. Russian Museum.

Heads (1910). Filonov considered this painting to be his first real work.
A Man and a Woman (Adam and Eve) (1912–1913).
The Banquet of Kings (1913).
universal flowering (1915).
The Formula of Contemporary Pedagogy of IZO (1923).
Horses (1924–1925).
Two Heads. Rabbles (1925).
Animals (1930).
Countenances (Faces on an Icon) (1940)

Mac Tag

cowboy coleridge, dream weaver, gary wright, lawrence alma-tadema, love letter, love poem, love song, muse, pavel filonov, poem of the day, Rhett, song of the day, the lovers almanac, twt, Zazie

The Lovers’ Chronicle 7 January – the kiss – art by Albert Bierstadt – birth of Zora Neale Hurston

07 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Love, Poems, Quotes, Random, Songs

Dear Muse, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Is there a kiss that did not happen in your life that you regret? Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

we must have been
busy on this day
in 2021

how else to explain
not writin’ about
the most important one

cannot blame covid
it was a thursday
so easily coulda
been my work
for you know
i did too much
of that

i have written
about the one
we shared
in a parkin’ lot
in downtown
decatur

the one
that changed
us forever
the last first one

dream on dream…

i was convinced

it was gonna happen

the time together

felt so right

we were progressin’

toward that moment

until we were not

or so it seemed

separated by miles

and relationships

and years later

there we were

at rocky top

of course

and yes

it was better

than imagined

happy birthday

let it carry us away

the feelin’s were there
from that first day
i had given them up
for dead, so imagine
my surprise
when they awoke

wait,
that is not quite right
they stormed back
with a vengeance

but of course,
there was no figurin’
you walkin’ in that day

have never set foot
on the Spanish Steps
but i have knelt
in the dirt at the site
where Buddy Holly died

and i have kissed
a pretty woman
‘neath a lamppost
in the French Quarter

P.S.
happy birthday
you have no idea
how much i miss you
and the kiss
that never happened

Accordin’ to my friend Jett, dreams come true, sort of. Due to certain circumstances, Jett is not with the one he longs to be with. He is reduced to each night fallin’ asleep hopin’ the one he wants will come to him in his dreams. Last night he was lucky and his dream came true; she came into his dreams. He told me about the dream and y’all know how we love dreams here at TLC, so we are tryin’ to work that into a poem for a future TLC. Stay tuned for that.

Meanwhile muse, here is today’s Poem of the Day. A poem you should remember from our past.

The Kiss

I have known some girls
I wanted to kiss and I did
Before and after the fall
But there was this one girl,

Though I wanted to I did not,
I never kissed at all

Now all the kisses
And the girls that were
Have fallen by the way
But the thought of the kiss
That never was
Haunts me night and day

The Song of the Day is “The Kiss” the theme from the film The Last of the Mohicans. Disclaimer: We do not own the rights to this song. No copyright infringement intended.

Albert Bierstadt
Albert Bierstadt by Napoleon Sarony

Today is the birthday of Albert Bierstadt (Solingen, Rhine Province, Prussia; January 7, 1830 – February 18, 1902 New York City); painter best known for his sweeping landscapes of the American West. To paint the scenes, Bierstadt joined several journeys of the Westward Expansion. Though not the first artist to record these sites, Bierstadt was the foremost painter of these scenes for the remainder of the 19th century.

Bierstadt was brought to the United States at the age of one by his parents. He later studied painting for several years in Düsseldorf. He became part of the Hudson River School in New York, an informal group of like-minded painters who started painting along this scenic river. Their style was based on carefully detailed paintings with romantic lighting, sometimes called luminism. An important interpreter of the western landscape, Bierstadt, along with Thomas Moran, is also grouped with the Rocky Mountain School.

In 1859, Bierstadt traveled westward in the company of Frederick W. Lander, a land surveyor for the U.S. government. He returned to a studio he had taken at the Tenth Street Studio Building in New York with sketches that would result in numerous finished paintings. In 1863 he traveled west again, this time in the company of the author Fitz Hugh Ludlow, whose wife he would later marry.

Gallery

Rue à Nassau 1878

Rocky Mountain Landscape, in the White House.

Among the Sierra Nevada Mountains, California (1868), Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, DC.

Rosalie Bierstadt, unknown date.

Roman Fish Market. Arch of Octavius. De Young Museum, San Francisco, California
Staubbach Falls, Near Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland, 1865
Yosemite Valley, Yosemite Park, c. 1868, Oakland Museum, Oakland, California
Storm in the Mountains, c. 1870, Museum of Fine Art, Boston, MA
Mount Adams, Washington, 1875, Princeton University Art Museum
Mount Corcoran, c. 1876–77, Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.
Gosnold at Cuttyhunk (c. 1858), New Bedford Whaling Museum, New Bedford, MA
The Marina Piccola, Capri (1859), Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, New York
Indians Spear Fishing, 1862
The Rocky Mountains, Lander’s Peak (1863), Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, New York
Looking Down Yosemite Valley (1865), Birmingham Museum of Art, Birmingham, Alabama
Lake Tahoe (1868), Fogg Art Museum, Cambridge, Massachusetts
Sierra Nevada (c. 1871–1873), Reynolda House Museum of American Art, Winston-Salem, North Carolina.
Storm in the Rocky Mountains, Mount Rosalie (1866), Brooklyn Museum, New York
California Spring, 1875, De Young Museum, San Francisco, California
Light in the Forest, unknown date

Zora Neale Hurston
Hurston between 1935 and 1943

Today is the birthday of Zora Neale Hurston (Notasulga, Alabama; January 7, 1891 – January 28, 1960 Fort Pierce, Florida); novelist, short story writer, folklorist, and anthropologist. Of Hurston’s four novels and more than 50 published short stories, plays, and essays, she is perhaps best known for her 1937 novel Their Eyes Were Watching God.

Verse

Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937)

Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board.
- Ch. 1, p. 9.

Janie saw her life like a great tree in leaf with the things suffered, things enjoyed, things done and undone. Dawn and doom was in the branches.
- C. 2, p. 10.

There are years that ask questions and years that answer.
- Ch. 3, p. 21.

Of course he wasn’t dead. He could never be dead until she herself had finished feeling and thinking. The kiss of his memory made pictures of love and light against the wall. Here was peace. She pulled in her horizon like a great fish-net. Pulled it from around the waist of the world and draped it over her shoulder. So much of life in its meshes! She called in her soul to come and see.
- Ch. 20, p. 193.
Bare and bony of comfort and love.
I used to climb to the top of one of the huge chinaberry trees, which guarded our front gate, and look out over the world. The most interesting thing that I saw was the horizon. It grew upon me that I ought to walk out to the horizon and see what the end of the world was like.
I have the nerve to walk my own way, however hard, in my search for reality, rather than climb upon the rattling wagon of wishful illusions.

Mac Tag

Too long a sacrifice

Can make a stone of the heart

– W. B. Yeats

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 6 January – fulfill – art by Gustave Doré – verse by Carl Sandburg

06 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Random

Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

i wish i was there

for a nap with you

“I bet I could make you

late getting back to work!”

my dear

i would take that bet

and it would be

so much fun losin’ it

you well know

it only takes

a look, a smile

hearin’ you say,

hey baby

you need but be

and my will is yours

Pale Love, Pale Rider

reckless dreamer

future verse delivers

by creatin’ sumpthin’

outta nothin’

night happenin’

hope illumined

you believed,

the only desire

“We can still be!”

you seek the vision

what fills the night

yes, she smiles

what will be, as is

the rest, matters not

“Fulfill her wish.”

reckless dreamer
future verse delivers
by creatin’ faith
in front of nothin’

night happenin’ in its sails
hope illumined by you
tomorrow’s stars
will glow on what remains

you believed, the light
reserved for you its flame
the circle broken, sigh
“We can still be!”

you seek the vision
what fills the night
yes, she smiles,
“What makes your happiness?”

the only desire,
stillness, without end,
hungry lover took forever
“What makes you leave?”

what will be, as is
the rest, matters not
you, like you,
“Fulfill her wish.”

Therefore, reckless dreamer
Future verse delivers
By creatin’, leave hope
In front of nothingness

The night happenin’ in its sails
Hope illumined by your light
Alas, tomorrow’s stars
Will glow on what remains

You believed that the light pressed you
Reserved for you its flame and rays
The circle broken, sigh
“We can still be!”

You seek what is invisible
Which fills the mountains and valleys
Yes, She smiles, but She is insensitive
“What makes your happiness”

The only desire, the immortal one,
Stillness, without end, without truce,
Hungry lover took forever with it
“What makes you leave”

Her foresight is what will be born
The rest, confusion overwhelms
You, like you, disappear
“Fulfill her wish”

Paul Gustave Doré
Photograph by Nadar, 1867

Today is the birthday of Paul Gustave Louis Christophe Doré (Strasbourg; 6 January 1832 – 23 January 1883 Paris); artist, printmaker, illustrator and sculptor. Doré worked primarily with wood engraving.

Doré never married and, following the death of his father in 1849, he continued to live with his mother, illustrating books until his death in Paris following a short illness. The city’s Père Lachaise Cemetery contains his grave.

Gallery

A Midsummer Night’s Dream, 1870

Doré by Carolus-Duran (1877)

Landscape in Scotland, ca. 1875, Toledo Museum of Art

Le Christ quittant le prétoire 1867–72, Strasbourg Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art

Les Oceanides Les Naiades de la mer, 1860s

Soir en Alsace
La Siesta, Memory of Spain
Mont Sainte-Odile avec mur païen.
Andromeda
Flower Sellers of London
Jacob wrestling with the angel – 1855
Little Red Riding Hood
Dante’s The Divine Comedy

Loch Lomond

Paolo and Francesca da Rimini

Landscape in Scotland, ca. 1878, Walters Art Museum

Doré illustrated several fairy tales: Cendrillon (or Cinderella).

Wood engraving illustration from The Divine Comedy

Over London by Rail c 1870. From London: A Pilgrimage

Crusades troubadours singing the glories of the crusades

Don Quijote illustrated

Don Quijote illustrated, another one of the 500 pieces Doré created for the work.

Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quijote.

Another example of Don Quixote (Don Quijote in Spanish).

Illustration.

Carl Sandburg
Sandburg in 1955

And today is the birthday of Carl Sandburg (Galesburg, Illinois; January 6, 1878 – July 22, 1967 Flat Rock, North Carolina); poet, writer, and editor who won three Pulitzer Prizes: two for his poetry and one for his biography of Abraham Lincoln. During his lifetime, Sandburg was widely regarded as “a major figure in contemporary literature”, especially for volumes of his collected verse, including Chicago Poems (1916), Cornhuskers (1918), and Smoke and Steel (1920). At his death in 1967, President Lyndon B. Johnson observed that “Carl Sandburg was more than the voice of America, more than the poet of its strength and genius. He was America.”

Sandburg met Lilian Steichen at the Social Democratic Party office in 1907, and they married the next year.

Verse

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

“Under the Harvest Moon” (1916)

Tell me if the lovers are losers… tell me if any get more than the lovers.

“Cool Tombs” (1918)

I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes.

“Prairie” (1918)

Drum on your drums, batter on your banjos,
sob on the long cool winding saxophones.
Go to it, O jazzmen.

“Jazz Fantasia” (1920)

Man’s life? A candle in the wind, hoar-frost on stone.

The People, Yes (1936)

Mac Tag

We’re supposed to be able to get into other skins. We’re supposed to be able to render experiences not our own and warrant times and places we haven’t seen. That’s one justification for art, isn’t it: to distribute the suffering?

E. L. Doctorow

Poetry is a pack-sack of invisible keepsakes. Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.

Carl Sandburg

There’s little to see, but things leave an impression. It’s a matter of time and repetition. As something old wears thin or out, something new wears in. The handle on the pump, the crank on the churn, the dipper floating in the bucket, the latch on the screen, the door on the privy, the fender on the stove, the knees of the pants and the seat of the chair, the handle of the brush and the lid to the pot exist in time but outside taste; they wear in more than they wear out. It can’t be helped. It’s neither good nor bad. It’s the nature of life.

Wright Morris

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 5 January – struggle – inauguration of the Palais Garnier – art by Pablo Gargallo – verse by W. D. Snodgrass

05 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Random

Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

the looks, the little gestures, the touches, how we feel, as we lie, wide awake, habitants whisperin’ through this treasured moment who must explore beyond ordinary or else we break our ties that bind and fade away

we wonder as we grow
into this bond so sound

found

in these thoughts,

these wishes,

this ardour

you therefore

feel once again

that, hey baby,

moves you so

this your purpose

this is your pulse

this need

this flash, this spark

burnin’ in surprise

these ties that bind

growin’ stronger

savin’ us

well the pull is strong

do not want to think

what might have been

were it not for this

and you, steadfast

these years on

no matter what is said

and written, still comes

back to purpose and why

got nothin’ for why

and purpose is a dish

best served in solitude

Pale Love, Pale Rider

“But why?”
you know, at some point,
you have to eff why

“Can you say,
you did the best
you could do?”
that hardly matters…

well it is, some days
but that is just
the natural order,
n’est – ce pas

it was not, last night
the attention
of a pretty woman
was nothin’
more than that

limitations
are fully known

lost, this single thought
changes in mid-spectrum
these endless wishes,
senseless ardour

would you therefore,
have to hear everything
that heart-rendin’ farewell
cannot move you

at this,
cries are superfluous
bitterly, heard over ashes
“Return no more.”

but no,
not your purpose
all that is,
this is your pulse

illusion
chimera, lie
this ephemeral need

this flash, this spark
burnin’ in surprise
you suddenly forget
and destinies bind

*******************************************************************************************************************************************

On this day in 1875, the Palais Garnier, one of the most famous opera houses in the world, is inaugurated in Paris.

The Palais Garnier is a 1,979-seat opera house, which was built from 1861 to 1875 for the Paris Opera. It was called the Salle des Capucines, because of its location on the Boulevard des Capucines in the 9th arrondissement of Paris, but soon became known as the Palais Garnier, in recognition of its opulence and its architect, Charles Garnier. The theatre is also often referred to as the Opéra Garnier and historically was known as the Opéra de Paris or simply the Opéra, as it was the primary home of the Paris Opera and its associated Paris Opera Ballet until 1989, when the Opéra Bastille opened at the Place de la Bastille. The Paris Opera now mainly uses the Palais Garnier for ballet.

The Palais Garnier is a symbol of Paris like Notre Dame Cathedral, the Louvre, or the Sacré Coeur Basilica. This is at least partly due to its use as the setting for Gaston Leroux‘s 1910 novel The Phantom of the Opera and, especially, the novel’s subsequent adaptations in films and the popular 1986 musical.

The Palais Garnier also houses the Bibliothèque-Musée de l’Opéra de Paris (Paris Opera Library-Museum). The museum is included in unaccompanied tours of the Palais Garnier.

Inauguration of the Paris Opera in 1875 (Édouard Detaille, 1878)

The theatre was formally inaugurated with a lavish gala performance attended by Marshal MacMahon, the Lord Mayor of London and King Alfonso XII of Spain. The program included the overtures to Auber‘s La muette de Portici and Rossini‘s William Tell, the first two acts of Halévy‘s 1835 opera La Juive (with Gabrielle Krauss in the title role), along with “The Consecration of the Swords” from Meyerbeer‘s 1836 opera Les Huguenots and the 1866 ballet La source with music by Delibes and Minkus. As a soprano had fallen ill one act from Charles Gounod’s Faustand one from Ambroise Thomas’s Hamlet had to be omitted. During the intermission Garnier stepped out onto the landing of the grand staircase to receive the approving applause of the audience.

Today is the birthday of Pablo Emilio Gargallo Catalán (Maella, Aragon, Spain; 5 January 1881 – 28 December 1934 Reus, Tarragona, Spain); sculptor and painter.

He spent a significant part of his life in the Montparnasse Quarter of Paris, France. In 1903, he invested a studio at the Cité d’Artistes, rue Vercingétorix in the 14th arrondissement of Paris. There he met Max Jacob and Carlos Casagemas, both friends of Pablo Picasso.

In 1907, he stayed at the artists commune Le Bateau-Lavoir in Montmartre with Max Jacob, Juan Gris and other artists. He spent his first night in the studio of his friend Picasso, whose head he modeled as a sculpture. There he was able to contemplate Picasso’s seminal proto-Cubist painting Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. Shortly thereafter, Juan Gris introduced him to Magali Tartanson, whom he married in 1915. During this period, Gargallo was influenced by the work of Picasso.

Among Gargallo’s works are three pieces based on Greta Garbo: “Masque de Greta Garbo à la mèche,” “Tête de Greta Garbo avec chapeau,” and “Masque de Greta Garbo aux cils.” Together with Dídac Masana, Gargallo sculpted the great arch over the front of the stage of the Palau de la Música Catalana in Barcelona. The work depicts the Ride of the Valkyries in Richard Wagner’s opera Die Walküre (The Valkyries).

Gargallo suffered from fulminating bronchial pneumonia and died in Reus, Tarragona. He is considered to be one of the most significant artists of the Spanish avant-garde, and in 1985 the Pablo Gargallo Museum in Zaragoza opened in the former Argillo Palace. Gargallo’s birthplace and early home, on the street now dedicated to his name in Maella, Zaragosa, has been transformed into a museum dedicated to his life and works

Galería

1922, Femme au repos en creux bronze

20230105_182608

Retrato de Picasso, 1913

1930, Portrait de Greta Garbo steel

*******************************************************************************************************************************************

And today is the birthday of William De Witt Snodgrass (January 5, 1926 – January 13, 2009); poet who also wrote under the pseudonym S. S. Gardons. He was studying poetry at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop in the early 1950s when his marriage began to fall apart, and he began writing about it in his poems. He showed some of hispoems to his teacher, the poet Robert Lowell, but Lowell didn’t like them. He said, “You’ve got a brain; you can’t write this kind of tear-jerking stuff.”Lowell later helped Snodgrass get his poetry collection, Heart’s Needle, published in 1959. It was Snodgrass’s first book, and it won the Pulitzer Prize. Lowell called it “a breakthrough for modern poetry.”

Snodgrass’s work helped inspire other poets to write openly about their personal lives.

Snodgrass married his first wife, Lila Jean Hank, in 1946. Their marriage ended in divorce in 1953. The following year Snodgrass married his second wife, Janice Marie Ferguson Wilson. Divorcing again in 1966, he married his third wife, Camille Rykowski in 1967 but this ended in 1978. His fourth marriage to Kathleen Ann Brown was in 1985.

…………

The hills, the little houses, the costumes:
How real it seems! But he comes, wide awake,
A tourist whispering through the priceless rooms
Who must not touch things or his hand might break

Their sleep and black them out. He wonders when
He’ll grow into his sleep so sound again.

……

The only reality which [a poet] can ever surely know is that self he cannot help being. If he pretties it up, if he changes its meaning, if he gives it the voice of any borrowed authority, if in short he rejects this reality, his mind will be less than alive. So will his words.

Mac Tag

By god, D. H. Lawrence was right when he had said there must be a dumb, dark, dull, bitter belly-tension between a man and a woman, and how else could this be achieved save in the long monotony of marriage?

– Stella Gibbons

Happiness can never hope to command so much interest as distress.

– Stella Gibbons

pablo gargallo, the lovers almanac, the lovers chronicle, w d snodgrass

The Lovers’ Chronicle 4 January – wishin’ you – art by Marsden Hartley & Augustus John

04 January 2024 By Rhett 0 In Random

Dear Zazie, Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse. Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

a vow

to tell you

what i want

at this point

all i can ever

imagine wantin’

is this…

for you to miss me

and to look forward

to seein’ me again

this is all about you

and how you feel

and what you want

and what you need

wow

this is a very

different kind

of wishin’ now

well not quite an oath,

she who moves, shiverin’ body,

voice, and the soft sound, sighin’

into transgression repeat this verse,

as stanzas fade words attach, become,

a link to hope

embrace

this

do not stop, do not allow

fear to get a look at us

exclaim all is now you

Pale Love Pale Rider

warnin’
will brake
for first light
and last light
for verse that insists
on bein’ written now
and for thoughts of you
that threaten to overwhelm

sorry, no sunset
photos on this leg
last light came
with too many
telephone poles
and pump jacks
in the way
i like my landscape
photos to look timeless
as if it could be
150 years ago

whizzed right through
the town of birth and death
without bein’ accosted
by any spirits
one of these days
must muster the courage
to stop and spend the night
and see if the haunts
want to dance

at 2036
stopped for a star check
found Orion and
stared in wide wonder
braced against the cold

with thoughts of you

an oath, immortal
she who moves, shiverin’ body,
voice, and the soft sound, sighin’
into transgression

repeat these words,
as radiant stanzas fade
words attach and become,
a link to hope

embrace
this
do not stop, do not allow
fear to get a look at us

serenity, when all else fell
hope, our joy and support
stumbled against an end
struck on the way

shelter these delusions,
cover and shade the trails,
now, would you have this smile
if we could become whole

under the veil
time to glimpse
and to exclaim
all is now you

Marsden Hartley
Marsden Hartley in 1939

Today is the birthday of Marsden Hartley (Lewiston, Maine; January 4, 1877 – September 2, 1943 Ellsworth, Maine); Modernist painter, poet, and essayist.

Gallery

Mountain lake autumn

Young American Artists of the Modern School, L. to R. Jo Davidson, Edward Steichen, Arthur B. Carles, John Marin; back: Marsden Hartley, Laurence Fellows, c. 1911, Bates College Museum of Art

The Ice Hole, 1908, New Orleans Museum of Art
Painting No. 48, 1913, Brooklyn Museum
Portrait of a German Officer, 1914, Metropolitan Museum of Art
Handsome Drinks, 1916, Brooklyn Museum
Village, 1940, San Antonio Museum of Art
Landscape, New Mexico, 1916–1920, Brooklyn Museum

Augustus John

Today is the birthday of Augustus Edwin John (Tenby, Pembrokeshire, Wales 4 January 1878 – 31 October 1961 Fordingbridge, Hampshire, England); painter, draughtsman, and etcher. He was an important exponent of Post-Impressionism in the United Kingdom. He was the brother of the painter Gwen John.

Early in 1900, he married his first wife, Ida Nettleship (1877–1907). After her death in 1907, his mistress Dorothy “Dorelia” McNeill, a Bohemian style icon, became his partner and later became his second wife.

John had an affair with Ian Fleming’s widowed mother, Evelyn Ste Croix Fleming née Rose.

Gallery

The sphinx

the marchesa casati 1919

W.B. Yeats (1907)

Chalk drawing of Grace Westry by Augustus John 1897

John with Tallulah Bankhead and her portrait (1929)

The Two Jamaican Girls (ca. 1937)

John poses for the American press on board a ship.

Augustus John by Reginald Gray, at Royal Academy London in 1960. (collection Mr. Derry O’Sullivan. Paris).

Mac Tag

augustus john, marsden hartley, the lovers almanac

The Lovers’ Chronicle 13 January – solace – art by Chaïm Soutine

Gallery

The Lovers’ Chronicle 12 January – again – art by Jean Béraud & John Singer Sargent

Gallery

Gallery

The Lovers’ Chronicle 11 January – solo – verse by Bayard Taylor – art by Georgios Jakobides

Solo

Verse

The Poet’s Journal (1863)

Gallery

The Lovers’ Chronicle 10 January – edge – birth of Pina Menichelli – verse by Robinson Jeffers – art by Eldzier Cortor

Verse

The Lovers’ Chronicle 9 January – awakenin’ – art by Simon Vouet – birth of Simone de Beauvoir

Le Deuxième Sexe, 1949

The Lovers’ Chronicle 8 January – dreams – art by Lawrence Alma-Tadema & Pavel Filanov

Dream Weaver

Gallery

Gallery

The Lovers’ Chronicle 7 January – the kiss – art by Albert Bierstadt – birth of Zora Neale Hurston

The Kiss

Gallery

Verse

Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937)

The Lovers’ Chronicle 6 January – fulfill – art by Gustave Doré – verse by Carl Sandburg

Gallery

Verse

The Lovers’ Chronicle 5 January – struggle – inauguration of the Palais Garnier – art by Pablo Gargallo – verse by W. D. Snodgrass

Galería

The Lovers’ Chronicle 4 January – wishin’ you – art by Marsden Hartley & Augustus John

Gallery

Gallery

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