The Lovers’ Chronicle 25 September – lost – birth of William Faulkner & Shel Silverstein – art by Robert Brackman

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

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

once thought
completely so
now startin’ to wonder
this day full of you
from your words
this mornin’
definin’ the contours
to the words
written on this day
seemin’ly for you
to the paintin’
of the late summer nude
that reminds me of you
and that i wish
i was holdin’ you

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

a word, i used easily once
too, see i have been usin’
words for a long time and
i found that word is no more
than the others: a sound
to fill a void, and that when
the right time comes, we
will not need a word for that
nor for what we never had
and for what we will have

© Copyright 2019 Mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

realization comes,
perhaps too late
what i had read about
but never believed
that it comes not easily
and certainly not
because you deserve it

can it be
that what we had
was not lost
but rather,
that we have been lost
without each other

come
shall we find out

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

either too much intimacy
or not enough
pity, both for suspicions
and the causes
dull hours spent in idle
and diffuse conversation

efforts to arrange matters
succeeded only in disarrangin’
found nothin’ that answered
to indefinable expectations

habit turns into
makeshift attachments
seekin’ that which
can no longer be found
i know not what lost home
i have failed to find

© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

 

William Faulkner
Carl Van Vechten - William Faulkner.jpg

Faulkner in 1954

Today is the birthday of William Cuthbert Faulkner (New Albany, Mississippi; September 25, 1897 – July 6, 1962 Byhalia, Mississippi); writer and Nobel Prize laureate.  Faulkner wrote novels, short stories, a play, poetry, essays, and screenplays.  He is primarily known for his novels and short stories set in the fictional Yoknapatawpha County, based on Lafayette County, Mississippi, where he spent most of his life.

Faulkner is one of the most celebrated writers in American literature generally and Southern literature specifically.  Though his work was published as early as 1919, and largely during the 1920s and 1930s, Faulkner was relatively unknown until receiving the 1949 Nobel Prize in Literature, for which he became the only Mississippi-born Nobel winner.  Two of his works, A Fable (1954) and his last novel The Reivers (1962), won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.

As a teenager in Oxford, Mississippi, Faulkner dated Estelle Oldham (1897–1972), the popular daughter of Major Lemuel and Lida Oldham.  Estelle dated other boys during their romance, and in 1918 one of them, Cornell Franklin, proposed marriage to her before Faulkner did.  Estelle’s parents insisted she marry Cornell, as he was an Ole Miss law graduate, had recently been commissioned as a major in the Hawaiian Territorial Forces, and came from a respectable family with which they were old friends.  Estelle’s marriage to Franklin fell apart ten years later, and she was divorced in April 1929.  Faulkner married Estelle in June 1929 at College Hill Presbyterian Church just outside Oxford.  They honeymooned on the Mississippi Gulf Coast at Pascagoula, then returned to Oxford.  In 1930 Faulkner purchased the antebellum home Rowan Oak, known at that time as The Shegog Place from Irish planter Robert Shegog.  After his death, Estelle and their daughter, Jill, lived at Rowan Oak until Estelle’s death in 1972.  The property was sold to the University of Mississippi in 1972.  The house and furnishings are maintained much as they were in Faulkner’s day.  Faulkner’s scribblings are still preserved on the wall there, including the day-by-day outline covering an entire week that he wrote out on the walls of his small study to help him keep track of the plot twists in the novel A Fable.

The quality and quantity of Faulkner’s literary output were achieved despite a lifelong drinking problem. He rarely drank while writing, preferring instead to binge after a project’s completion.

Faulkner is known to have had several extramarital affairs.  One was with Howard Hawks’s secretary and script girl, Meta Carpenter, later known as Meta Wilde.  The affair was chronicled in her book A Loving Gentleman.  Another affair, from 1949 to 1953, was with a young writer, Joan Williams, who made her relationship with Faulkner the subject of her 1971 novel, The Wintering.

When Faulkner visited Stockholm in December 1950 to receive the Nobel Prize, he met Else Jonsson (1912–96) and they had an affair that lasted until the end of 1953.  Else was the widow of journalist Thorsten Jonsson (1910–50), reporter for Dagens Nyheter in New York, who had interviewed Faulkner in 1946 and introduced his works to Swedish readers.  At the banquet in 1950 where they met, publisher Tor Bonnier referred to Else as widow of the man responsible for Faulkner being awarded the prize.

Prose

  • He had a word, too. Love, he called it. But I had been used to words for a long time. I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came, you wouldn’t need a word for that anymore than for pride or fear.
  • It takes two people to make you, and one people to die. That’s how the world is going to end.
  • Sin and love and fear are just sounds that people who never sinned nor loved nor feared have for what they never had and cannot have until they forget the words.

The Wild Palms (1939)

If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem [first published as The Wild Palms] has ten unnumbered chapters. The odd chapters are titled “Wild Palms”, the even ones “Old Man”. Page numbers from the Vintage Books (1966) edition.
  • … the second time I ever saw you I learned what I had read in books but I had never actually believed: that love and suffering are the same thing and that the sum of love is what you have to pay for it and any time you get it cheap you have cheated yourself.
    • Harry Wilbourne to Charlotte Rittenmeyer, in (Ch. 3) “Wild Palms”; p. 48
  • not sin, he thought, I dont believe in sin. It’s getting out of timing. You are born submerged in anonymous lockstep with the teeming anonymous myriads of your time and generation; you get out of step once, falter once, and you are trampled to death.
    • Harry Wilbourne, in (Ch. 3) “Wild Palms”; p. 54 (Faulkner’s italics)
  • They say love dies between two people. That’s wrong. It doesn’t die. It just leaves you, goes away, if you are not good enough, worthy enough. It doesn’t die; you’re the one that dies.
    • Charlotte Rittenmeyer to Harry Wilbourne, in (Ch. 5) “Wild Palms”; p. 83
  • I told you once how I believe it isn’t love that dies, it’s the man and the woman, something in the man and the woman that dies, doesn’t deserve the chance any more to love.
    • Charlotte Rittenmeyer to Harry Wilbourne, in (Ch. 7) “Wild Palms”; p. 218
  • when she became not then half of memory became not and if I become not then all of remembering will cease to be.—Yes, he thought, between grief and nothing I will take grief.
    • Harry Wilbourne, in (Ch. 9) “Wild Palms”; p. 324 (Faulkner’s italics)

Requiem for a Nun (1951)

  • The past is never dead. It’s not even past.
    • Act 1, sc. 3;
  • … maybe the only thing worse than having to give gratitude constantly all the time, is having to accept it.
    • Act 2, sc. 1
  • so vast, so limitless in capacity is man’s imagination to disperse and burn away the rubble-dross of fact and probability, leaving only truth and dream.
    • Act 3
Robert Brackman
Robert Brackman.jpg

Sculpture of Robert Brackman, published in the book Labor Sculpture by Max Kalish, ©1938 Comet Press.

Today is the birthday of Robert Brackman (Odes’ka Oblast, Ukraine September 25, 1898 – July 16, 1980 New London, Connecticut); artist and teacher of Ukrainian origin, best known for large figural works, portraits, and still lifes.

Gallery

20220925_120006

Late Summer Nude

Late Summer Nude

Portrait of a Woman

Portrait of a Woman

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

20220925_114536And today is the birthday of Sheldon AllanShelSilverstein (Chicago; September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999 Key West, Florida); poet, singer-songwriter, cartoonist, screenwriter, and author of children’s books.  He styled himself as Uncle Shelby in some works.  He was the recipient of two Grammy Awards, as well as a Golden Globe and Academy Award nominee.

The songs he wrote or co-wrote include; “Put Another Log on the Fire”, “One’s on the Way”, “Hey Loretta”, “25 Minutes to Go”, “A Boy Named Sue”, “The Unicorn”, “the Taker”, “The Cover of ‘Rolling Stone'”, “Rosalie’s Good Eats Café”, “The Mermaid”, “The Winner”, “Warm and Free”, “Tequila Sheila”, “Marie Laveau”, “The Ballad of Lucy Jordan”, and “Queen of the Silver Dollar”.

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 24 September – absolution – seein’ you again – verse by F. Scott Fitzgerald – art by William Dobell

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.  Is there someone you long to see again?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

no shadows
fallin’ on the cote,
the trees are not
filled with wings
and down the valley
the trees are not cryin’
but i do wait,
not for that
which stirs
the veil of fate,
but for the feelin’s
that come
from bein’
with you
they fill me, show me,
strew upon me,
what i come to need

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

remembrance says

the dreams, yet still
since time, stolen
away these many years,
leavin’ my temples gray

to see those eyes again
i can a sad and sweet
tortured feelin’ have,
and say, il mio cuore felice

© Copyright 2019 Mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

survived a dance
with madness
through providence
or happenstance

always driven by a yearnin’
for a connection to somethin’

sure woulda avoided many
ill advised decisions
had the attachment
that was meant for me,
been known way back when

or

was the whole damn
mixed up, one wrong turn
after another journey,
a necessary part
of findin’ my purpose

whichever
just thankful
to be here with you

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

movin’ slowly out of the bay
that which needs be left behind
grows smaller in the distance
an ocean opens ahead
an immense, solemn,
welcome repose

one evenin’, in my cabin,
my eyes fall upon the roses
brought from the garden
they had lasted several days,
but now they are withered,
strewn sadly upon the floor

i try hard, without success,
to awaken some sentiment
for the last souvenirs
of my summer
i pick them up
and open the porthole

from the gray misty sky,
a gloomy twilight descends
i throw the roses
into the boundless waters,
consignin’ them to a grave,
solemn and vast

an appeal,
to whatever powers may be
wash me clean
from the errors of the past
in the waters of always

© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

Seein’ You Again

When last we parted, I was young
You were so lovely my remembrance says
Sadly, since then time has stolen away
These many years, leavin’ my temples gray
So has it perished, like a thing of air,
That dream of love and youth
Yet still rememberin’ youth’s enchanted way,
Though time has changed my look,
Though I remember the pain of our partin’,
And never thought, long as I yet might live,
And parted so long, to see those eyes again;
I can a sad, and sweet tortured feelin’ have,
And say, il mio cuore felice
As when I loved you when I was young!

© copyright 2012 mac tag/Cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

The Song of the Day is “Seeing You Again” by Dan Fogelberg

If I could see you again.  Il mio cuore felice; literally, my heart happy.  It was when I was with you.  It would be if I could see you again.

 

F. Scott Fitzgerald
F Scott Fitzgerald 1921.jpg

Fitzgerald c. 1921, appearing in The
World’s Work
s June 1921 issue

Today is the birthday of F. Scott Fitzgerald (Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald; St. Paul, Minnesota; September 24, 1896 – December 21, 1940 Hollywood); novelist and short story writer, whose works are the paradigmatic writings of the Jazz Age.  In my opinion, one of the greatest American writers of the 20th century.  Fitzgerald is considered a member of the “Lost Generation” of the 1920s.  He finished four novels: This Side of Paradise, The Beautiful and Damned, The Great Gatsby, and Tender Is the Night.  A fifth, unfinished novel, The Love of the Last Tycoon, was published posthumously.  Fitzgerald also wrote numerous short stories, many of which treat themes of youth and promise, and age and despair.

Fitzgerald was commissioned a second lieutenant in the infantry and assigned to Camp Sheridan outside of Montgomery, Alabama.  While at a country club, Fitzgerald met and fell in love with Zelda Sayre (1900–1948), the daughter of Alabama Supreme Court justice Anthony D. Sayre and the “golden girl,” in Fitzgerald’s terms, of Montgomery youth society.  The war ended in 1918, before Fitzgerald was ever deployed, and upon his discharge he moved to New York City hoping to launch a career in advertising that would be lucrative enough to convince Zelda to marry him.  He worked for the Barron Collier advertising agency, living in a single room at 200 Claremont Avenue in the Morningside Heights neighborhood on Manhattan’s west side.

Zelda accepted his marriage proposal, but after some time and despite working at an advertising firm and writing short stories, he was unable to convince her that he would be able to support her, leading her to break off the engagement.  Fitzgerald returned to his parents’ house at 599 Summit Avenue, on Cathedral Hill, in St. Paul, to revise The Romantic Egoist, recast as This Side of Paradise, a semi-autobiographical account of Fitzgerald’s undergraduate years at Princeton.  His revised novel was accepted by Scribner’s in the fall of 1919 and was published on March 26, 1920 and became an instant success, selling 41,075 copies in the first year.  It launched Fitzgerald’s career as a writer and provided a steady income suitable to Zelda’s needs.  They resumed their engagement and were married at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, New York.

Scott and Zelda quickly became celebrities of New York, as much for their wild behavior, as for the success of This Side of Paradise.  They were ordered to leave both the Biltmore Hotel and the Commodore Hotel for their drunkenness.  Zelda once jumped into the fountain at Union Square.  Another example of their behavior was when Dorothy Parker first met them, as Zelda and Scott were sitting atop a taxi.  Parker said, “They did both look as though they had just stepped out of the sun; their youth was striking. Everyone wanted to meet him.”  Their social life was fueled with alcohol.  Publicly, this meant little more than napping when they arrived at parties, but privately it increasingly led to bitter fights.  To their delight, in the pages of the New York newspapers Zelda and Scott had become icons of youth and success—enfants terribles of the Jazz Age.

Verse 

This Side of Paradise (1920)

  • Faint winds, and far away a fading laughter…
    And the rain and over the fields a voice calling…
  • The shadow of a dove
    Falls on the cote, the trees are filled with wings;
    And down the valley through the crying trees
    The body of the darker storm flies; brings
    With its new air the breath of sunken seas
    And slender tenuous thunder . . .
    But I wait . . .
    Wait for the mists and for the blacker rain —
    Heavier winds that stir the veil of fate,
    Happier winds that pile her hair;
    Again
    They tear me, teach me, strew the heavy air
    Upon me, winds that I know, and storm.

 

William Dobell
William Dobell Max Dupain.jpg

William Dobell, 1942, photograph by Max Dupain

Today is the birthday of William (Bill) Dobell (Cooks HIll, Colony of New South Wales 24 September 1899 – 13 May 1970 Wangi Wangi, New South Wales, Australia); portrait and landscape artist of the 20th century. Dobell won the Archibald Prize, Australia’s premier award for portrait artists on three separate occasions. The Dobell Prize is named in his honour.

Dobell was a very private man, known almost always as ‘Bill’ and never as ‘William’ or ‘Sir William’. He died on 13 May 1970 in the Lake Macquarie suburb of Wangi Wangi of hypertensive heart disease. The sole beneficiary of his estate was the Sir William Dobell Art Foundation, which was founded on 19 January 1971 and awards the Dobell Australian Drawing Biennial, which is named in his honour. He was cremated with Anglican rites.

A film of Dobell’s life, titled Yours sincerely, Bill Dobell was made in 1981 by Brian Adams and Cathy Shirley for the Australian Broadcasting Commission and the William Dobell Art Foundation. Brian Adams’ book Portrait of an Artist – A biography of William Dobell was first published in 1983 by Hutchinson Publishing Group and revised in paperback in 1992 for Random House Australia.

A book on the life and art of William Dobell, William Dobell: An Artist’s Life by Elizabeth Donaldson, was compiled in 2010 with the support of the Sir William Dobell Art Foundation and Dobell House, in Wangi Wangi. It is published by Exisle Publishing.

Gallery

Seated nude

Seated nude

Woman with sparrows

Woman with sparrows

portrait of Margaret Olley

portrait of Margaret Olley

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 23 September – visitation – art by James Carroll Beckwith, Pekka Halonen & Suzanne Valadon – Le Fantôme de l’Opéra


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

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

if we kissed under the trees
serenaded by cicadas
one night, alive,
crossin’ from what
we thought lost,
until that moment
i have been tellin’ you
where to find what you seek
if you kissed me,
for the first time,
yourself, here
and we left together
keepin’ our promise

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

a creature
of imagination

so none
more surprised
than me when
reality intervenes

when she kissed me,
for the first time,
herself, me, here

and we went off together….

© Copyright 2019 Mac tag/cowboy Coleridge, all rights reserved

if not to be
enriched each day
with wonderful moments,
then what is the point

embrace
beauty or sorrow
never mediocrity

Leroux wrote
that a true Parisian
learns to wear a mask
of gaiety over sorrows
and one of sadness,
boredom, or indifference
over inward joy

well then, i could pass

Christine’s father believed
that every great artist
is visited by the Angel,
at least once

if that is so,
then this soi-disant poet
can at least claim
to have been visited
by you

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

 

James Carroll Beckwith
James-carroll-beckwith.jpg

Beckwith c. 1880

Today is the birthday of James Carroll Beckwith (Hannibal, Missouri; September 23, 1852 – October 24, 1917 New York); landscape, portrait and genre painter whose Naturalist style led to his recognition in the late nineteenth and very early twentieth century as a respected figure in American art.

Beckwith died of a heart attack in his apartment at the Hotel Schuyler on West Forty-fifth Street in New York City, after having taken a taxi cab ride with his wife in Central Park.

His papers, including his sketchbooks and the diaries he kept from 1871 until his death in 1917 are held by the National Academy of Design in New York City.

Gallery

Thomas Eakins, Portrait of Beckwith, 1904

 

  • Woman with Guitar

  • Portrait of Evelyn Nesbitt, c. 1901.

  • Sylvan Toilette, c. 1898

  • A Wistful Look.

  • Mark Twain, 1890.

  • Bassin de Neptune Versailles.

  • L’empereur.

  • The Palace of the Popes and Pont d’Avignon.

  • Cathédrale Notre-Dame du Puy (Le Puy-en-Velay).

     

     Pekka Halonen in 1899

    Today is the birthday of Pekka Halonen (Linnasalmi, Lapinlahti; 23 September 1865 – 1 December 1933 Tuusula); painter of Finnish landscapes and people in the national romantic style.  His favorite subjects were the Finnish landscape and its people which he depicted in his Realist style.

    In 1895 Halonen married a young music student, Maija Mäkinen.  In the beginning of their marriage, the couple lived in several places before settling down in a house with a studio on Lake Tuusula in Tuusula, Finland in 1895.  Here the Halonen family lived in an imposing pinewood villa known as ‘Halosenniemi’.  Halosenniemi was designed by Halonen himself and his brother Antti and was completed in 1902.

    Gallery

     The Kantele Player
    • Washing on the Ice, 1900

    •   The Violinist, 1900

    •   Autumn Landscape, 1914

    •  Mowers men, 1891

    •  Holiday in the new house, 1894

    • I In the Sauna, 1925

      Suzanne Valadon
      Suzanne Valadon Photo.jpg

      Valadon as a young woman

      Today is the birthday of Suzanne Valadon (Bessines-sur-Gartempe; 23 September 1865 – 7 April 1938 Paris); painter and artists’ model, born Marie-Clémentine Valadon.  In 1894, Valadon became the first woman painter admitted to the Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts.  The subjects of her drawings and paintings included mostly female nudes, female portraits, still lifes, and landscapes.  She never attended the academy and was never confined within a tradition.

      Valadon debuted as a model in 1880 in Montmartre at age 15.  She modeled for over 10 years for many different artists including: Pierre-Cécile Puvis de Chavannes, Théophile Steinlen, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.  She modeled under the name “Maria” and was thought to have had affairs with the artists she modeled for.  She was considered seductive, provocative, comely, voluptuous, and flighty.  Toulouse-Lautrec nicknamed her “Suzanne” after the biblical story of Susanna and the Elders.  She was considered a very focused, ambitious, rebellious, determined, self-confident, and passionate woman.  She was also known to be good friends with Edgar Degas.

      Perhaps the most recognizable image of Valadon would be in Renoir’s Dance at Bougival from 1883, the same year that she posed for City Dance.  In 1885, Renoir painted her portrait again as Girl Braiding Her Hair.  Another of his portraits of her in 1885, Suzanne Valadon, is of her head and shoulders in profile.  Valadon frequented the bars and taverns of Paris along with her fellow painters, and she was Toulouse-Lautrec’s subject in his oil painting The Hangover.

      In 1896, Valadon became a full-time painter after her marriage to Paul Moussis.  She made a shift from drawing to painting during her initial affair with Andre Utter starting in 1909.

      In 1883 Valadon gave birth to her illegitimate son, Maurice Utrillo, at the age of 18.  Valadon’s friend Miguel Utrillo would sign papers recognizing Maurice as his son, although his true paternity is uncertain.  In 1893, Valadon began a short-lived affair with composer Erik Satie, moving to a room next to his on the Rue Cortot.  Satie became obsessed with her, calling her his Biqui, writing impassioned notes about “her whole being, lovely eyes, gentle hands, and tiny feet”, but after six months she left, leaving him devastated.  Valadon married stockbroker Paul Moussis in 1895, leading a bourgeois life for 13 years at an apartment in Paris and a house in the outlying region.  In 1909, Valadon began an affair with the painter André Utter, age 23 and a friend of her son, divorcing Moussis in 1913.  Valadon married Utter in 1914, and he managed her career as well as her son’s.  Valadon and Utter regularly exhibited work together until the couple divorced in 1934, in which year she turned 69 and he 48.

      Valadon died of a stroke, at age 72, and was buried in the Cimetière de Saint-Ouen in Paris.  Among those in attendance at her funeral were her friends and colleagues André Derain, Pablo Picasso, and Georges Braque.

       Gallery

       Dance at Bougival, by Renoir; the female dancer is Valadon.

       Casting of the Net, 1914
      • Self-Portrait, 1883

      • My Son at 7 Years Old

      • Self-Portrait, 1893

      • Nude, 1895

      • Portrait of Erik Satie, 1893

      • The Bath, 1908

      • Nudes, 1919

      • Flowers on a Round Table, 1920

      • Portrait of Maurice Utrillo

      • Portrait of the Painter Maurice Utrillo, 1921

      • Still Life with Tulips and Fruit Bowl, 1924

      • Bouquet of Flowers, 1928

      • Still Life with Basket of Apples Vase of Flowers, 1928

      • Young Girl in Front of a Window, 1930

      Portraits of Valadon

      • The Hangover (Valadon), by Toulouse-Lautrec.

      • Profile portrait by Renoir.

      • Portrait by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

The Phantom of the Opera
 

L'une des cinq aquarelles d'André Castaigne illustrant la première édition américaine du Fantôme de l'Opéra de Gaston Leroux (1911).
L’une des cinq aquarelles d’André Castaigne illustrant la première édition américaine du Fantôme de l’Opéra de Gaston Leroux (1911).

And on this day: Le Fantôme de l’Opéra (The Phantom of the Opera) a novel by French writer Gaston Leroux was first published as a serialisation in Le Gaulois from September 23, 1909, to January 8, 1910.  It was published in volume form in late March 1910 by Pierre Lafitte.  The novel is partly inspired by historical events at the Paris Opera during the nineteenth century and an apocryphal tale concerning the use of a former ballet pupil’s skeleton in Carl Maria von Weber’s 1841 production of Der Freischütz.  It has been successfully adapted into various stage and film adaptations, most notable of which are the 1925 film depiction featuring Lon Chaney and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 1986 musical.  One of my all-time favorite books, and my all-time favorite musical.

Excerpts

  • THE Opera Ghost really existed. He was not, as was long believed, a creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the young ladies of the ballet, their mothers, the box-keepers, the cloak-room attendants or the concierge. Yes, he existed in flesh and blood, although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom; that is to say, of a spectral shade.

Erik’s emotion was so great that he had to tell the Persian not to look at him, for he was choking and must take off his mask. The daroga went to the window and opened it. His heart was full of pity, but he took care to keep his eyes fixed on the trees in the Tuileries gardens, lest he should see the monster’s face.

“I went and released the young man,” Erik continued, “and told him to come with me to Christine…. They kissed before me in the Louis-Philippe room…. Christine had my ring…. I made Christine swear to come back, one night, when I was dead, crossing the lake from the Rue-Scribe side, and bury me in the greatest secrecy with the gold ring, which she was to wear until that moment…. I told her where she would find my body and what to do with it. … Then Christine kissed me, for the first time, herself, here, on the forehead—don’t look, daroga!—here, on the forehead … on my forehead, mine—don’t look, daroga!—and they went off together…. Christine had stopped crying…. I alone cried…. Daroga, daroga, if Christine keeps her promise, she will come back soon!…”

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 22 September – the words – art by Čiurlionis

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

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

well, yes certain
but how was i
to account for you
relish the thoughts
with you, bein’
ourselves
no pretense
stripped of anything
other than what we are
lettin’ go feels so good
when i pulled you
towards me,
clothes hittin’ the floor
and the look in your eyes
more please

what has been denied
has only been delayed

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

“But how can you be
so sure?”
there are a host
of reasons
why it must be so

and i will not
let it be otherwise

she knelt in the dirt
in her garden
and wept,
cryin’ out
at how life had denied her

then he came along
and took her hand
and helped her up
and said,

what has been denied
has only been delayed

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

i was right there
i tasted the wine
i made love to her
i sat in the cafe
that mornin’
wonderin’
what the future held

or if it held
anything at all

i heard the cry
and i felt the longin’

it was all in her letter
funny thing is,
she left it
on the bedside table
and i was home all day
and never saw it

never saw it
until i went to bed
perhaps i had seen it
but had convinced
myself it was not there
because i knew
what was in it

i did not want to read it
i held it and paced
around the house
i drank and drank some more
i waited outside for her
but she did not come

i stayed up all night
and just as first light appeared
from the depths of despair,
from somewhere,
the words started comin’
and would not stop

© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

 

Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis
Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis photo portrait.jpg

Today is the birthday of Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis (Stare Orany, Vilna Governorate; 22 September [O.S. 10 September] 1875 –10 April [O.S. 28 March] 1911 Marki, Congress Poland); painter, composer and writer.  One of the pioneers of abstract art in Europe.  During his short life he composed about 400 pieces of music and created about 300 paintings, as well as many literary works and poems.  The majority of his paintings are housed in the M. K. Čiurlionis National Art Museum in Kaunas, Lithuania. His works have had a profound influence on modern Lithuanian culture.

In 1907 he became acquainted with Sofija Kymantaitė (1886–1958), an art critic.  Early in 1909 he married Sofija.  On Christmas Eve Čiurlionis fell into a profound depression and at the beginning of 1910 was hospitalized in a psychiatric hospital “Czerwony Dwór” (Red Manor) in Marki, Poland, northeast of Warsaw.  While a patient there he died of pneumonia in 1911 at 35 years of age.  He was buried at the Rasos Cemetery in Vilnius.

Gallery 

Kings’ Fairy Tale (1908-1909)

Mists (1906)

Lightning (1909) 

Fairy Tale Castle (1909)

Deluge – I (1904) 

Sparks (1906)

A Day (1904) 

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 21 September – rover’s adieu – art by Barbara Longhi & Cigoli – death of Sir Walter Scott – birth of Leonard Cohen

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.  Mac Tag is right; this is one of my favorite topics.  Are you a rover?  Have you bid adieu to love?  Has love bid adieu to you?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

lowerin’ the walls
built to protect
we have grieved
and buried,
wept and wailed
and now, after all,
wave on wave
a muse has emerged
strong, confident
ready to heal,
to survive
to take a chance,
trust her cape
and i, waitin’
extendin’ my hand
to allow myself

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

weary for sure
so pour more wine

a lightsome eye,
a poet’s mien
the cloudy blue sky

a doublet
of the lonesome kind

what more of me
shall ye know
in the fadin’
light of day

give the reins a shake,
let yourself
be taken in
ere time slips away

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

an evenin’, so fine
and you, very charmin’
as you silently walk
beside me
through the darkness
of the lane

then the words you whisper,
as you walk beside me,
embellished by the silence
of three o’clock in the mornin’,
and the enchantments of night

how simple it seems
after all,
to allow myself
to be taken in

© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

Today’s topic is rovin’.  One of Rhett’s favorite topics.  He has done his fair share.

Rover’s Adieu

No more of me you know
No more of me you know
The sage will bloom amid winter
Before we meet again,
Turnin’ his horse sayin’,
Adieu, for evermore
Adieu for evermore
She stood alone,
And watched him fade away
She was strong, and so cold,
Standin’ alone
Goodbye, so long, adieu…

© copyright 2012 mac tag/Cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

Barbara Longhi
Presumed Self-Portrait as St. Catherine of Alexandria, Barbara Longhi.jpg

Self-portrait
as Saint Catherine of Alexandria

Today is the birthday of Barbara Longhi (Ravenna 21 September 1552 – 23 December 1638 Ravenna); painter. She was much admired in her lifetime as a portraitist, although most of her portraits are now lost or unattributed. Her work, such as her many Madonna and Child paintings, earned her a fine reputation as an artist.  

Gallery

Santa Caterina d’Alessandria  (1580 circa; Bologna, Pinacoteca Nazionale)

Santa Caterina d’Alessandria  (1580 circa; Bologna, Pinacoteca Nazionale)

Today is the birthday of Lodovico Cardi (21 September 1559 – 8 June 1613), also known as Cigoli; painter and architect of the late Mannerist and early Baroque period, trained and active in his early career in Florence, and spending the last nine years of his life in Rome.

Gallery

self-portrait

 

Maddalena

Maddalena

Venus and Adonis

Venus and Adonis

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

On this day in 1832, the great Scottish novelist, playwright and poet, Sir Walter Scott died in Scotland.  His most famous poem is probably “The Lady of the Lake” but for our Poem of the Day I chose this one:

The Rover’s Adieu

Weary lot is thine, fair maid,
A weary lot is thine!
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,
And press the rue for wine.
A lightsome eye, a soldier’s mien,
A feather of the blue,
A doublet of the Lincoln green—
No more of me ye knew,
My Love!
No more of me ye knew.
‘This morn is merry June, I trow,
The rose is budding fain;
But she shall bloom in winter snow
Ere we two meet again.’
—He turn’d his charger as he spake
Upon the river shore,
He gave the bridle-reins a shake,
Said ‘Adieu for evermore,
My Love!
And adieu for evermore.’

20220921_201102And today is the birthday of Leonard Cohen (Leonard Norman Cohen; Westmount, Quebec, Canada; September 21, 1934 – November 7, 2016 Los Angeles); singer-songwriter, poet and novelist. His work explored religion, politics, isolation, depression, sexuality, loss, death, and romantic relationships.  He was inducted into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame, the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He was invested as a Companion of the Order of Canada, the nation’s highest civilian honour. In 2011, he received one of the Prince of Asturias Awards for literature and the ninth Glenn Gould Prize.

Cohen pursued a career as a poet and novelist during the 1950s and early 1960s, and did not begin a music career until 1967. His first album, Songs of Leonard Cohen (1967), was followed by three more albums of folk music: Songs from a Room (1969), Songs of Love and Hate (1971) and New Skin for the Old Ceremony (1974). His 1977 record Death of a Ladies’ Man, co-written and produced by Phil Spector, was a move away from Cohen’s previous minimalist sound.

In 1979, Cohen returned with the more traditional Recent Songs, which blended his acoustic style with jazz, East Asian, and Mediterranean influences. Cohen’s song, “Hallelujah”, was released on his seventh album, Various Positions (1984). I’m Your Man in 1988 marked Cohen’s turn to synthesized productions. In 1992, Cohen released its follow-up, The Future, which had dark lyrics and references to political and social unrest.

Cohen returned to music in 2001 with the release of Ten New Songs, a major hit in Canada and Europe. His 11th album, Dear Heather, followed in 2004. In 2005, Cohen discovered that his manager had stolen most of his money and sold his publishing rights, prompting a return to touring to recoup his losses. Following a successful string of tours between 2008 and 2013, he released three albums in the final years of his life: Old Ideas (2012), Popular Problems (2014), and You Want It Darker (2016), the last of which was released three weeks before his death. A posthumous album, Thanks for the Dance, was released in November 2019, his fifteenth and final studio album.

Lyrics

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river.
You can hear the boats go by,
You can spend the night beside her,
And you know that she’s half crazy
But that’s why you want to be there,
And she feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China.
And just when you mean to tell her
That you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer
That you’ve always been her lover.
And you want to travel with her,
And you want to travel blind,
And you know that she will trust you,
For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.

“Suzanne” – Isle of Wight performance (1970) – Live in London (2008)

And she shows you where to look
Among the garbage and the flowers.
There are heroes in the seaweed,
There are children in the morning,
They are leaning out for love,
And they will lean that way forever,
While Suzanne holds the mirror.

“Suzanne”

And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said “All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them”
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone

“Suzanne”

It’s true that all the men you knew were dealers
who said they were through with dealing
Every time you gave them shelter.
I know that kind of man
It’s hard to hold the hand of anyone
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender.

“The Stranger Song” (1966)

It’s true that all the men you knew were dealers
who said they were through with dealing
Every time you gave them shelter.
I know that kind of man
It’s hard to hold the hand of anyone
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender.

“The Stranger Song”

O you’ve seen that man before
his golden arm dispatching cards
but now it’s rusted from the elbow to the finger
And he wants to trade the game he plays for shelter
“The Stranger Song”
Alludes to the dealer in Nelson Algren’s 1949 novel The Man
with the Golden Arm.

Please understand, I never had a secret chart
to get me to the heart of this
or any other matter.
When he talks like this
you don’t know what he’s after.
“The Stranger Song”

Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can’t go on.
And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me
this song.
Oh I hope you run into them, you who’ve been travelling so
long.
“Sisters of Mercy”

Yes, you who must leave everything that you cannot control,
It begins with your family, and soon it comes round to your
soul.
Well I’ve been where you’re hanging, I think I can see how
you’re pinned:
When you’re not feeling holy your loneliness says that you’ve
sinned.
“Sisters of Mercy”

When they lay down beside me I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes and I touched the dew on their
hem.
If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn,
They will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a
stem.
“Sisters of Mercy”

When I left they were sleeping, I hope you run into them soon.
Don’t turn on the lights, you can read their address by the
moon.
And you won’t make me jealous if I hear that they sweetened
your night:
We weren’t lovers like that and besides it would still be all right.
“Sisters of Mercy”

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
Yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
But let’s not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye.

“Hey, That’s No Way To Say Goodbye” · Duet with Judy Collins on Soundstage (January 1976)

The Song of the Day is “Adieu” by Emily Bindiger.

The bonus SOD is The Rover by Led Zeppelin if you prefer to rock out! 

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 20 September – promise – all that is left – art by Théodore Chassériau – verse by Stevie Smith

Dear Zazie,  Here is yesterday’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.  What is all that is left that matters to you?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

much too far out
most of the time
but found my way back
through volumes of verse
there is purpose here
but more i believe,
in sharin’
the convoluted path
had to be, or it never
would have happened
and it was well worth
the price of admission
to get to you, to now

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

mactagbeautyinthebathyes, agree
much too far out
most of the time

past the point of wishin’
no purpose there
what was done was
and what was not
was not

but really
could not think
about doin’ it
another way

the beauty and sorrow
encountered
were well worth
the price of admission

and had not
the convoluted
path been taken
it never woulda
brought me
here

and i promise
i am fine

for here
is where i belong
if not with you

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

mactagmujeresin the last of twilight,
by the light of the moon,
tremblin’, i follow her
into the dark corners
whither she gives me
what she will

a sad feelin’ prevails
the melancholy inseparable
from all things about to end
without possibility of return

this splendid summer
also draws to a close

i feel more gloomy
each time another
fades away,
and flies to rejoin
the others already gone,
where all things past
lie buried

“Listen, come back
tomorrow at first light,
to bid one final goodbye;
you will find me still here.”
and i promise
© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

All That Is Left

To kiss her or not to kiss her
That was the question that governed
The days and shadows of the night
Kissin’ her would have changed it all

There would have been no turnin’ back
Never was a kiss more wanted
Never was a kiss more needed
Never was a kiss more deserved

Well, deserve is hard to figure
At last, a price had to be paid
For past lies told and the sold soul

For all of the lines that were blurred

For all of the lives tossed aside
There just would not have been a way
To protect her from the demons
Created by the choices made

Sure had this comin’ a long time
You know what is said ’bout payback
This is not about gettin’ mad
This is ’bout love gettin’ even

So I pay the price ever’ day
Serve my penance in solitude
Reapin’ and pickin’ what I sowed
For what is owed and what was done

All that is left, all I can do
Seekin’ solace in these letters

I write for you, and search my thoughts
For what is left of could have been

© copyright 2013 mac tag/Cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

The Song of the Day is “All That’s Left” by Wade Bowen.  We do not own the rights to this song.  All rights reserved by the rightful owner.  No copyright infringement intended.

Chasseriau-RedingoteToday is the birthday of Théodore Chassériau (El Limón, Samaná, in the Spanish colony of Santo Domingo (now the Dominican Republic) September 20, 1819 – October 8, 1856 Paris); Romantic painter noted for his portraits, historical and religious paintings, allegorical murals, and Orientalist images inspired by his travels to Algeria. Early in his career he painted in a Neoclassical style close to that of his teacher Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, but in his later works he was strongly influenced by the Romantic style of Eugène Delacroix. He was a prolific draftsman, and made a suite of prints to illustrate Shakespeare’s Othello. The portrait he painted at the age of 15 of Prosper Marilhat, makes Théodore Chassériau the youngest painter exhibited at the Louvre museum.

His work had a significant impact on the style of Puvis de Chavannes and Gustave Moreau, and—through those artists’ influence—reverberations in the work of Paul Gauguin and Henri Matisse.  There is in Paris a Society for the painter: Association des Amis de Théodore Chassériau.

Works of Chassériau are in the Musée du Louvre where a room is dedicated to him, in the Musée d’Orsay, and in the Musée de Versailles. Collections in the United States holding works by Théodore Chassériau include the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, the Fogg Art Museum of Harvard University, the National Gallery of Art of Washington, D.C., the Detroit Institute of Arts, the Museum of the Art Rhode Island School of Design, The J. Paul Getty Museum and the Art Institute of Chicago.

Gallery

Les Deux sœurs (1843, Paris, musée du Louvre

Les Deux sœurs (1843, Paris, musée du Louvre

Esther se parant pour être présentée au roi Ahasuerus, dit La Toilette d'Esther (1841)

Esther se parant pour être présentée au roi Ahasuerus, dit La Toilette d’Esther (1841)

Andromède attachée au rocher par les Néréides » (1840)

Andromède attachée au rocher par les Néréides » (1840)

Stevie Smith
Stevie Smith.jpg

in July 1966, by Jorge (‘J.S.’) Lewinski

And today is the birthday of Stevie Smith (Florence Margaret Smith; Kingston upon Hull; 20 September 1902 – 7 March 1971 Ashburton, Devon); poet and novelist.

Verse 

Not Waving but Drowning (1957)

  • Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
    (Still the dead one lay moaning)
    I was much too far out all my life
    And not waving but drowning.

    • “Not Waving But Drowning”

Selected Poems (1962)

  • I wish I was more cheerful, it is more pleasant,
    Also it is a duty, we should smile as well as submitting
    To the purpose of One Above who is experimenting
    With various mixtures of human character which goes best,
    All is interesting for him it is exciting, but not for us.
    There I go again. Smile, smile, and get some work to do
    Then you will be practically unconscious without positively having to go.

    • “Thoughts about the Person from Porlock (continued)”
  • No man has seen her, this pitiful ghost,
    And no woman either, but heard her at most,
    Sighing and tapping and sighing again,
    You have weaned me too soon, you must nurse me again.

    • “The Wanderer”
  • The boat that took my love away
    He sent again to me
    To tell me that he would not sleep
    Alone beneath the sea.

    • “The Boat”
  • The flower and fruit of love are mine
    The ant, the fieldmouse and the mole

    • “The Boat”
  • Why does my Muse only speak when she is unhappy?
    She does not, I only listen when I am unhappy.

    • “My Muse”

The Best Beast (1966)

  • So I fancy my Muse says, when I wish to die,
    Oh no, Oh no, we are not yet friends enough,
    And Virtue also says:
    We are not yet friends enough.

    • “Exeat”

 

It was a house of female habitation,
Two ladies fair inhabited the house,
And they were brave. For although Fear knocked loud
Upon the door, and said he must come in,
They did not let him in

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 19 September – love hurts – photography by Frank Eugene

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

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

it does indeed
and the thoughts,
can be consumin’
once told and tried
but not to be
was it in the wantin’
too much
or was it just
how it goes down
for the soi disant poet
better
for havin’ been there
and you must go
how else to know
if they have
the required depth

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

come out on the porch
and i will tell you
how it all went down
you know me,
a story teller
can never resist
an audience

romanced my way
from black tie nights
out at the opera
to tequila mornin’s
in old cantinas

all the many
highways and blacktops
and old worn out trails
i traveled,
they all led me here

lost and found
myself along the way
and i came to know my demons,
and my particular salvation

so here i am on this porch,
midst the rollin’ plains of grass,
with twilight fast approachin’
it really all comes down to this
missin’ what never was

pull up a chair
and i will tell the tales

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

you drop me a note
make me laugh
make me miss you
more
than i thought possible
and then you are gone
payin’ the price i guess

i would give anything
to be in Joshua Tree
with you, listenin’
to Gram Parsons’
Grievous Angel

watch the desert sun set
make love under the big
star filled sky
and wait for first light
to appear
how i wish we were there

© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

The song of the day is Love Hurts by Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris, we do not own the rights to this song, no copyright infringement intended

“Eugene, Stieglitz, Kühn and Steichen Admiring the Work of Eugene,” by Frank Eugene from 1907. From left to right are Eugene, Alfred Stieglitz, Heinrich Kühn, and Edward Steichen.

Today is the birthday of Frank Eugene (New York City; 19 September 1865 – 16 December 1936 Munich); photographer who was a founding member of the Photo-Secession and one of the first university-level professors of photography in the world.

Gallery 

Adam and Eve, taken 1898, published in Camera Work no. 30, 1910

Male Nude (1897) 

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 18 September – untold – art by Anton Mauve

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.  Have you heard that sigh?  Comin’ from yourself?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

together…
well, was gonna say
at last, but that feels
too easy, and yet
not enough
y’all have no idea
what it took
to get here
to feel like this
so on this first night,
a new beginnin’,
cannot imagine
another other way
and now that the tale
can be told, so look
forward to what awaits

© copyright 2021 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

the longer i am here,
the more satisfyin’
it becomes and
i find myself
more comfortable
i revel in the clarity
it is touchin’ here,
with delicacy of lines
and verse all around,
and feelin’s never felt
envelopin’ us
do we dare say out loud,
can it now be told,
that we would like to stay

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

the shadows above
the bodies below
a song and the moan
of the late summer wind

how easily things went
the way not intended
a sigh untold
and there follows,
never the same

but feel not any woe
for the path chosen
it is merely fulfillment
of what was always
meant to be

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

your languishin’ attitude,
your hand, at each moment
gently touches mine,
confirm the suspicions
your look of dismay
awoke within me

do my charms,
such that they are,
speak to your imagination
an imagination which i suspect
is full of untold passion

i shall leave with the regret
that i understood you too late

© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

beautiful, archin’ your marvellous curves

displayin’ the vision of your body

in my strength, our skin, ours, as with glory

© copyright 2015 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights

shinin’, the sunlight on your hair

between waves, slip amorously

the great dreamin’, while time goes by

© copyright 2015 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights

Sigh Too Much

How easily things go wrong
A sigh too much
A sigh not enough
A sigh from the deepest well
A sigh for loneliness to end

A sigh from the emptiest part
A sigh that cannot be borne

A sigh untold

© copyright 2012 mac Tag/Cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

So Jett says Zazie received another picture text from Adele.  Seems her love interest told her she deserves more than he can give her now.  Jett assures me that Adele is a remarkable woman; bold, bright and beautiful.  No doubt she deserves the best of everything, so this guy could be sincere or he could be full of merda.  That is a standard line used by players.  Either way, I full well know the sting of love lost and we hope that Adele moves on and gives love another chance someday.  Sadly, another example of how easily things go wrong.

 

Anton Mauve
AntonMauve.jpg

Today is the birthday of Anthonij (Anton) Rudolf Mauve (Zaandam; 18 September 1838 – 5 February 1888 Arnhem); realist painter who was a leading member of the Hague School.  He signed his paintings ‘A. Mauve’ or with a monogrammed ‘A.M.’.  A master colorist, he was a early influence on his cousin-in-law Vincent van Gogh.  Most of Mauve’s work depicts people and animals in outdoor settings.  In his Morning Ride in the Rijksmuseum, for example, fashionable equestrians at the seacoast are seen riding away from the viewer.  An unconventional detail, horse droppings in the foreground, attests his commitment to realism.

Mauve was married to van Gogh’s cousin Ariëtte (Jet) Sophia Jeannette Carbentus.

Gallery

1908

1908

a group of well dressed equestrians, the lady riding sidesaddle, descend at a leisurly pace from the dunes to the beach at Scheveningen towards the bathing huts, their horses leaving droppings in the sand

Morning Ride on the Beach (1876), oil on canvas, Rijksmuseum

 

 An elegant young lady wearing a fancy bonnet is sitting in the dunes dressed in her Sunday best, a black dress with a pale blue smock.

Ariëtte (Jet) Carbentus, the Artist’s Wife,in the Dunes

 

Landscape with cattle

 

The Return of the Flock, Laren

 

The Song of the Day is “A Sigh” by Crowded House.  

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 17 September – passin’ – verse by Emile Augier & William Carlos Williams – art by François Marius Granet & Samuel Prout – birth of Hank Williams

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Have you reached for love and come away with thorns?  Whether you have brown eyes, green eyes or blue eyes, are you broken hearted?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

mactagpassinthe windows are open
and the mountain breeze
rustles gently through
we lie there
curious to catch
the next wave
i call your name
you shudder,
under my touch
an astonished look
passes in your eyes,
your heart quickens
so alike, this man
and this woman
weavin’ this vision

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

nothin’ lost in tryin’
and takin’ journeys
and always okay,
to just let go

about you,
knowin’ you
and you showin’
me your truth

gettin’ caught up
in all of you,
cannot help feelin’

from now, not walkin’ alone
learnin’ that worth is found
in followin’ our own song

© Copyright 2019 Mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

museplayingharpnever figured out
how to bridge the gap
between infatuation
and ever after

always seemed to go
from head over heals
to headin’ out the door

there never was
any in between

of course,
the mistake
was in the tryin’

should have always aimed
for hey, just passin’ through

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

mactag passinyou sleep
stretched out
on our bed
the windows are open
and the mountain breeze
rustles gently through
candles burn
in nooks and corners

with a few gentle taps
you wake surprised
curious to catch
your first impression
i call your name

you start up,
look through me
and around,
and hang your head
a look of sadness
passes in your eyes
a sinkin’ of the heart

© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

The Blue-Eyed Girl

Sometimes it is alright to be wrong,
Sometimes it is okay to just let it go

They like to gossip

About her, often,

But they do not know her
No one knows her truth

Sometimes, she gets caught

Up in their rumours

But she refuses

To follow their rules

She tries to laugh about it

But she cannot help feelin’

Like they are stealin’ somethin’
Away from her in pieces
She does not need anyone
To tell her right from wrong
She wants to sing her own song

From now on, she walks alone
Needin’ no one’s permission
She has learned that happiness
Lies in followin’ her own song

For what it is worth;
The Blue-Eyed Man
Feels the pain
Of the Blue-Eyed Girl

© copyright 2012 mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

Today we have a story of love found and lost from my friend Jett.

Jett received the followin’ letter from his friend Adele, who also happens to be a friend of Zazie:

Ok! I did it!  Call it lust, love or the meeting of two sole mates.  On Saturday night, I went out with a guy I used to work with.  We drink a box of wine and end up on the roof.  We just talk most all night and yes he gave me a kiss.  Tuesday he left his wife (it was a dead situation anyway), last night he moved in!  Wow!  Did you expect that from me?   I cannot explain what happened other than we are both crazy about each other.  We just reconnected and decided we had suppressed the feelings we had for long enough.  I equate this whole thing to two people jumping out of an airplane.  We don’t yet know if we will land on our feet or our face!  Right now all we can do is enjoy the ride.  Jett I have been so lonely for so long just to be held again is well worth the insanity of it.  The only part that stresses me is the fact that either one of us could crush the others heart.  He has made major external moves and I have made equal internal moves.  Just last week I could not imagine sharing my closet with anyone.  Tonight I pick up boxes to pack up half my closet.  For some weird reason I am not afraid.  What do you think….. If you really felt that you found your soul mate would you jump in or hang on at a distance to be sure?

Jett told her he agreed with their leap of faith.  Life is too short and you will never get a rose unless you reach for it.  Yes, you may end up with a handful of thorns, but the reward is worth the risk.  Protect yourself as best you can and when you fancy, take some fancy chances.

Then Adele texts Zazie with a picture update on her romance or rather the apparent end of it.  Click here to see the picture.  In part it says; “You lied to me.  You said you loved me.  I trusted you.  I was fine before you came.  I’m broken hearted.  I cried.”  Jett wishes he could reach out and hug Adele and he wishes he could stomp a mud hole in this guy, which trust me, he could.

For the Poem of the Day, Jett suggested, “Blue-Eyed Ann” by the Scottish poet Tobias Smollett, who died on this day in 1771 in Livorno, Italy.  This goes out to Adele from Jett.

Blue-Eyed Ann

When the rough North forgets to howl,
And Ocean’s billows cease to roll;
When Libyan sands are bound in frost,
And cold to Nova Zembla’s lost!
When heavenly bodies cease to move,
My blue-eyed Ann I’ll cease to love.

No more shall flowers the meads adorn;
Nor sweetness deck the rosy thorn;
Nor swelling buds proclaim the spring;
Nor parching heats the dogstar bring;
Nor laughing lilies paint the grove,
When blue-eyed Ann I cease to love.

No more shall joy in hope be found;
Nor pleasures dance their frolic round;
Nor Love’s light god inhabit earth;
Nor beauty give to passion birth;
Nor heat to summer sunshine cleave,
When blue-eyed Annie I deceive.

When rolling seasons cease to change,
Inconstancy forgets to range;
When lavish May no more shall bloom,
Nor gardens yield a rich perfume;
When Nature from her sphere shall start,
I’ll tear my Annie from my heart.

The Song of the Day is “Blue Eyed Girl” by Ida Jensush.  Again, this goes out to Adele from Jett.

Émile Augier
Émile Augier by Adam-Salomon c1870s.jpg

by Antoine Samuel Adam-Salomon, circa 1870s

Today is the birthday of Guillaume Victor Émile Augier (Valence, Drôme; 17 September 1820 – 25 October 1889 Croissy-sur-Seine); dramatist.

Verse 

L’Aventurière (1848)

  • L’amour chez les vieillards a d’étranges racines,
    Et trouve, comme un lierre aux fentes des ruines,
    Dans ces cœurs ravagés par le temps et les maux,
    Cent brèches où pousser ses tenaces rameaux.

    • Act I., Scene V. (translation by Fabrice).
    • From strangest roots love in old men doth grow;
      Like ivy on a ruin it doth show,
      And in these hearts laid waste by grief and time,
      By myriad clefts its clinging branches climb.
Portrait by Ingres

Portrait by Ingres

Today is the birthday of François Marius Granet (Aix-en-Provence 17 December 1775 – 21 November 1849 Aix-en-Provence) ; painter.

Whilst a lad he had, at Aix, made the acquaintance of the young comte de Forbin, and upon his invitation Granet, in the year 1797, went to Paris. De Forbin was one of the pupils of David, and Granet entered the same studio. Later he got possession of a cell in the convent of Capuchins, which, having served for a manufactory of assignats during the Revolution, was afterwards inhabited almost exclusively by artists. In the changing lights and shadows of the corridors of the Capuchins, Granet found the materials for that one picture to the painting of which, with varying success, he devoted his life.

In 1802, he left Paris for Rome, where he remained until 1819, when he returned to Paris, bringing with him besides various other works one of fourteen repetitions of his celebrated “Chœur des Capucins,” executed in 1811. The figures of the monks celebrating mass are taken in this subject as a substantive part of the architectural effect, and this is the case with all Granet’s works, even with those in which the figure subject would seem to assert its importance, and its historical or romantic interest. “Stella painting a Madonna on his Prison Wall,” 1810 (Leuchtenberg collection); “Sodoma à l’hôpital,” 1815 (Louvre); “Basilique basse de St François d’Assise,” 1823 (Louvre); “Rachat de prisonniers,” 1831 (Louvre); “Mort de Poussin,” 1834 (Villa Demidoff, Florence), are among his principal works; all are marked by the same peculiarities, everything is sacrificed to tone.

In 1819, Louis Philippe decorated Granet, and afterwards named him Chevalier de l’Ordre St Michel, and Conservateur des tableaux de Versailles (1826). He became a member of the institute in 1830; but in spite of these honours, and the ties which bound him to M. de Forbin, then director of the Louvre, Granet constantly returned to Rome. After 1848 he retired to Aix, immediately lost his wife, and died himself on 21 November 1849. He bequeathed the greater part of his fortune to his native town and all his collections (including the very fine portrait by Ingres from 1811[citation needed] ) to the Museum of Aix en Provence, which was renamed the Musée Granet in 1949, the centenary of his death.

Gallery

une paysanne achetant des indulgences

une paysanne achetant des indulgences

Today is the birthday of Samuel Prout (Plymouth, England 17 September 1783 – 10 February 1852 London); watercolourist, and one of the masters of watercolour architectural painting. Prout secured the position of Painter in Water-Colours in Ordinary to King George IV in 1829 and afterwards to Queen Victoria. John Ruskin, whose work often emulated Prout’s, wrote in 1844, “Sometimes I tire of Turner, but never of Prout”. Prout is often compared to his contemporaries: Turner, Constable and Ruskin, whom he taught. He was the uncle of the artist John Skinner Prout.

Prout was appointed the coveted title of ‘Painter in Water-Colours in Ordinary’ to King George IV in 1829, and afterwards to Queen Victoria.

At the time of his death there was hardly a place in France, Germany, Italy (especially Venice) or the Netherlands where his face had not been seen searching for antique gables and sculptured pieces of stone. He died after a stroke at his home, 5 De Crespigny Terrace, Denmark Hill, London and was buried at West Norwood Cemetery.

A large quantity of his original sketchbooks, lithographs, account books, letters and family materials are held at the North Devon Athenaeum, Barnstaple, Devon. The collection was sold at auction in 2010, and much was acquired by Plymouth City Museum & Art Gallery, adding to its existing holdings of his work.

Samuel Gillespie Prout followed in his father’s footsteps by also painting watercolours. his nephew was the composer Ebenezer Prout.[4] Another member of the family, John Skinner Prout made a career for himself painting and writing books in Tasmania.

Gallery

The fountain

The fountain

Figures on a beach

Figures on a beach

 

William Carlos Williams
William Carlos Williams passport photograph 1921.jpg

passport photograph,1921

Today is the birthday of William Carlos Williams (Rutherford, New Jersey; September 17, 1883 – March 4, 1963 Rutherford); poet closely associated with modernism and imagism.  He is among the group of four major American poets born in the twelve-year period following 1874, including Robert Frost, born in 1874; Wallace Stevens, born in 1879; and H.D. (Hilda Doolittle), born in 1886.  His work has an affinity with painting, in which he had a lifelong interest.

In addition to his writing, Williams had a long career as a physician practicing both pediatrics and general medicine.  He was affiliated with what was then known as Passaic General Hospital in Passaic, New Jersey, where he served as the hospital’s chief of pediatrics from 1924 until his death.  The hospital, which is now known as St. Mary’s General Hospital, paid tribute to Williams with a memorial plaque that states “we walk the wards that Williams walked”.

Verse 

Marriage (1916)

  • So different, this man
    And this woman:
    A stream flowing
    In a field.

    • Poetry Chicago, 1916)

Al Que Quiere! (1917)

  • Why do I write today?
  • The beauty of
    the terrible faces
    of our nonentities
    stirs me to it
    :
  • “Apology”
  • I lie here thinking of you:—the stain of love
    is upon the world!

    • “Love Song”
  • Brother!
    — if we were rich
    we’d stick our chests out
    and hold our heads high!
  • It is dreams that have destroyed us.
  • There is no more pride
    in horses or in rein holding.
  • We sit hunched together brooding
    our fate.
  • Well —
    all things turn bitter in the end
    whether you choose the right or
    the left way
    and —
    dreams are not a bad thing.

    • “Libertad! Igualidad! Fraternidad!”

Collected Poems 1921-1931 (1934)

  • “He’s come out of the man
    and he’s let
    the man go —
the liar
Dead
his eyes
rolled up out of
the light — a mockery

which
love cannot touch —just bury it
and hide its face
for shame.

  • “Death”

Complete Collected Poems (1938)

  • These
  • are the desolate, dark weeks
    when nature in its barrenness
    equals the stupidity of man.
  • The
  • year plunges into night
    and the heart plunges
    lower than night

    • “These”

Collected Later Poems (1950)

  • Not now. Love itself a flower
    with roots in a parched ground.

    Empty pockets make empty heads.
    Cure it if you can but
    do not believe that we can live
    today in the country
    for the country will bring us
    no peace.

    • “Raleigh Was Right” (1940)

The Desert Music and Other Poems (1954)

  • I think
    of the poetry
    of René Char
    and all he must have seen
    and suffered
    that has brought him
    to speak only of
    sedgy rivers,
    of daffodils and tulips
    whose roots they water
    ,
    even to the free-flowing river
    that laves the rootlets
    of those sweet-scented flowers
    that people the
    milky
    way

    • “To a Dog Injured in the Street”
  • The cries of a dying dog
    are to be blotted out
    as best I can.
    René Char
    you are a poet who believes
    in the power of beauty
    to right all wrongs.
    I believe it also.
    With invention and courage
    we shall surpass
    the pitiful dumb beasts,
    let all men believe it,
    as you have taught me also
    to believe it.

    • “To a Dog Injured in the Street”

Journey to Love (1955)

Asphodel, That Greeny Flower

  • Of asphodel, that greeny flower,
like a buttercup

upon its branching stem —
save that’s green and wooden —

I come, my sweet,

to sing to you.
We lived long together,

a life filled,

if you will,
with flowers. So that

I was cheered

when I first came to know
that there were flowers also

in hell.

Today
I’m filled with the fading memory of those flowers

that we both loved,

even to this poor
colorless thing —

I saw it

when I was a child —
little prized among the living

but the dead see,

asking among themselves:
What do I remember

that was shaped

as this thing is shaped?
while our eyes fill

with tears.

Of love, abiding love
it will be telling

though too weak a wash of crimson

colors it
to make it wholly credible.

There is something

something urgent
I have to say to you

and you alone

but it must wait
while I drink in

the joy of your approach,

perhaps for the last time.
And so

with fear in my heart

I drag it out
and keep on talking

for I dare not stop.
  • Only give me time,
time to recall them

before I shall speak out.
Give me time,

time.
When I was a boy

I kept a book

to which, from time
to time,

I added pressed flowers

until, after a time,
I had a good collection.

The asphodel,

forebodingly,
among them.

I bring you,

reawakened,
a memory of those flowers.

They were sweet

when I pressed them
and retained

something of their sweetness

a long time.
It is a curious odor,

a moral odor,

that brings me
near to you.
  • Endless wealth,
I thought,

held out its arms to me.
A thousand tropics

in an apple blossom.

The generous earth itself
gave us lief.

The whole world

became my garden!
But the sea

which no one tends

is also a garden
when the sun strikes it

and the waves

are wakened.
I have seen it

and so have you

when it puts all flowers
to shame.
  • I cannot say
that I have gone to hell

for your love
but often

found myself there

in your pursuit.
I do not like it

and wanted to be

in heaven. Hear me out.
Do not turn away.
I have learned much in my life

from books

and out of them
about love.

Death

is not the end of it.
  • The storm unfolds.
Lightning

plays about the edges of the clouds.
The sky to the north

is placid,

blue in the afterglow
as the storm piles up.

It is a flower

that will soon reach
the apex of its bloom.
  • When I speak
of flowers

it is to recall

that at one time
we were young.

All women are not Helen,

I know that,
but have Helen in their hearts.

My sweet,

you have it also, therefore
I love you

and could not love you otherwise.
  • The storm bursts
or fades! it is not
the end of the world.

Love is something else,

or so I thought it,
a garden which expands,

though I knew you as a woman

and never thought otherwise,
until the whole sea

has been taken up

and all its gardens.
It was the love of love,

the love that swallows up all else,

a grateful love,
a love of nature, of people,

of animals,

a love engendering
gentleness and goodness

that moved me

and that I saw in you.

 

  • I come, my sweet,
to sing to you!
My heart rouses

thinking to bring you news

of something
that concerns you

and concerns many men. Look at

what passes for the new.
You will not find it there but in

despised poems.
  •     It is difficult
    to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day

for lack
of what is found there.
Hank Williams
Hank Williams Promotional Photo.jpg

in 1951

And today is the birthday of Hiram KingHankWilliams, (Mount Olive, Alabama; September 17, 1923 – January 1, 1953 Oak Hill, West Virginia); singer-songwriter and musician.  In my opinion, one of the most significant and influential American singers and songwriters of the 20th century, Williams recorded 35 singles (five released posthumously) that reached the Top 10 of the Billboard Country & Western Best Sellers chart, including 11 that ranked number one (three posthumously).  Among the hits he wrote were “Your Cheatin’ Heart”, “Hey, Good Lookin'”, “Jambalaya (On the Bayou)” and “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry”.

On December 15, 1944, Williams married Audrey Sheppard.  It was her second marriage and his first.  Their son, Randall Hank Williams, who would achieve fame in his own right as Hank Williams, Jr., was born on May 26, 1949.  The marriage, always turbulent, rapidly disintegrated.  The couple divorced on May 29, 1952.

A relationship with a woman named Bobbie Jett resulted in a daughter, Jett Williams, who was born five days after Williams’ death.

On October 18, 1952, Williams and Billie Jean Jones Eshlimar were married in Minden, Louisiana by a justice of the peace.  It was the second marriage for both (both being divorced with children).  After Williams’ death, a judge ruled that the wedding was not legal because Jones Eshlimar’s divorce had not become final until eleven days after she married Williams.  Williams’ first wife, Audrey, and his mother, Lillie Williams, were the driving forces behind having the marriage declared invalid and pursued the matter for years.

Several years of back pain, alcoholism, and prescription drug abuse severely damaged Williams’ health.  Williams died at the age of 29, from heart failure exacerbated by pills and alcohol.  Despite his short life, Williams has had a major influence on 20th-century popular music, especially country music.  The songs he wrote and recorded have been covered by numerous artists and have been hits in various genres.  He has been inducted into multiple music halls of fame, such as the Country Music Hall of Fame (1961), the Songwriters Hall of Fame (1970), and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (1987).

Lyrics 

  • You wore out a brand new trunk,
    packin’ and unpackin your junk.

    • “You’re gonna change (or I’m gonna leave)” (1949)
  • No matter how I struggle and strive,
    I’ll never get out of this world alive.

    • “I’ll Never Get Out Of This World Alive” (1952)
  • We’ll put aside a little time to fix a flat or 2,
    my tires and tubes are doing fine but the air is showing through

    • “Settin’ the Woods on Fire” (1952)

Mac Tag

It is difficult to get the news from poems, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there. – Simone de Beauvoir

I am in love, hence free to live by heart, to ad lib as I caress.Vera Pavlova

We are blind and live our blind lives out in blindness. Poets are damned but they are not blind, they see with the eyes of angels. – William Carlos Williams

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The Lovers’ Chronicle 16 September – broke – verse by Alfred Noyes – art by Jean Arp

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

Rhett

The Lover’s Chronicle

Dear Muse,

mactagbrokestock-footage-young-couple-being-romantic-under-coversyou, leanin’ over me,
whisperin’ what you want
my hands runnin’ up and down
your curves, and your moan
makes me want as i have not
in the darkness,
urges consume
fillin’ with wonder
and holdin’ us bound
we move together,
till the grey dawn
no longer broken

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

did she,
does she
even care

s’pose i deserved
to fall
for a female me

so closed and afraid
so much pain
and sufferin’

but i will remember
the tender moments
and wonder…

another life

© Copyright 2019 Mac tag/cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

Muse, Upturned face

Muse, Upturned face

enough of dreams,
hardly
no better place
for the burdened

not on clouds
build thy faith
all too like hope
enough of despair

the breakin’ is broke
no lookin’ back
but therein lies strength,
in dream and deed,
to see through the night

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

Slowly, turnin’ pale blue eyes toward you

Softly, your cheek, lips comin’ together

Dyin’ in a divine kiss, wave on wave

© copyright 2015 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

Alfred Noyes
Portrait of Alfred Noyes.jpg

Portrait of Alfred Noyes, by Alexander Bassano, 1922

Today is the birthday of Alfred Noyes (Wolverhampton; 16 September 1880 – 25 June 1958 Isle of Wight); poet, short-story writer and playwright, best known for his ballads, “The Highwayman” and “The Barrel-Organ”.

In 1907, Noyes married Garnett Daniels, youngest daughter of US Army Colonel Byron G. Daniels, a Civil War veteran.  She died in 1926 at Saint-Jean-de-Luz, France, where she and Noyes were staying with friends.

In 1927, the year after his first wife’s death, Noyes married Mary Angela née Mayne (1889–1976), widow of Lieutenant Richard Shireburn Weld-Blundell.  In 1929, Noyes and Mary Angela settled at Lisle Combe, on the Undercliff near Ventnor, Isle of Wight.

Verse  

  • Enough of dreams! No longer mock
    The burdened hearts of men!
    Not on the cloud, but on the rock
    Build thou thy faith again
    ;
  • O range no more the realms of air,
    Stoop to the glen-bound streams;
    Thy hope was all too like despair:
    Enough, enough of dreams.

    • “The Secret Inn : ‘The Kingdom is Within You'” in Master Mind Magazine, Vol. VII, No. 3 (December 1914), p. 99.
  • Descend, descend, Urania, speak
    To men in their own tongue!
    Leave not the breaking heart to break
    Because thine own is strong.

    This is the law, in dream and deed,
    That heaven must walk on earth!
    O, shine upon the humble creed
    That holds the heavenly birth.

    • “The Secret Inn : ‘The Kingdom is Within You'” in Master Mind Magazine, Vol. VII, No. 3 (December 1914), p. 99.
  • A shadow leaned over me, whispering, in the darkness,
    Thoughts without sound;
    Sorrowful thoughts that filled me with helpless wonder
    And held me bound.

    • “The Shadow” in The Empire Review (1923) Vol. 37, p. 620.
  • Soundlessly, shadow with shadow, we wrestled together,
    Till the grey dawn.

    • “The Shadow” in The Empire Review (1923) Vol. 37, p. 620.

The Highwayman (1907)

  • The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
    The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
    The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
    And the highwayman came riding —
    Riding — riding —
    The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.
  • One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I’m after a prize tonight,
    But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
    Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
    Then look for me by moonlight,
    Watch for me by moonlight,
    I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.

20220915_202607And today is the birthday of Jean Arp (Jean Hans Peter Wilhelm Arp; Strasbourg, 16 September 1886 – 7 June 1966 Basel, Switzerland); sculptor, painter, and poet. He was known as a Dadaist and an abstract artist.

Arp and his first wife, the artist Sophie Taeuber-Arp, became French nationals in 1926.  In the 1930s they bought a piece of land in Clamart and built a house at the edge of a forest. Influenced by the Bauhaus, Le Corbusier and Charlotte Perriand, Taeuber designed it.  She died in Zürich in 1943 from accidental carbon monoxide poisoning. After living in Zürich, Arp was to make Meudon his primary residence again in 1946.

Arp married the collector Marguerite Hagenbach (1902–1994), his long-time companion, in 1959.

Gallery

Le rideau

Le rideau

 

Mac Tag

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