I’ve taken up pen drawing. I’m already excited. What says vintage, childish, eccentric art form more than pen?
I’ll post more sketches as I finish them. I’m off to the local craft store tomorrow to get me some large, wonderfully smelly sketchbooks. Oh the sight of blank paper. A true artist and writer will see that and feel his blood burn with energy.
AE
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
~Dylan Thomas
This – a small study on hands. I’m thinking of drawing my next header, rather than using a picture. This is my first time using oil pastels for anything detailed, or anything like flesh. I need to work on it a bit more, but I like the smudging capacity of the oils.
That – a small piece of Mendelssohn, his ‘Song Without Words Op19.’
AE
Hugh Laurie. British. Hilarious. Serious. Musical. After watching Jeeves and Wooster, I don’t think I would have imagined Mr. Laurie to really be as good a musician as he is.
I’m not sorry to be proven wrong though.
He can sing, play piano and guitar and who knows what else. If you watch him live, he has that persona fit for a lounge club. A very, very upscale lounge club.
AE
Coming from basement level, we walked up the stairs into the lobby, the lush carpeting and low lights giving us an air of deserved luxury. We strode in two pairs of heels and one of shining leather. Bedecked in glittering jewels, velvet vests and folds of lace, we belonged to another world; one of sophistication and culture, of intense artistic appreciation, and the ability to afford spending time on pure enjoyment. Sitting in stark admiration of a single man’s achievement, expressed in the combined genius of a multitude of performers, we were spellbound.
It’s a borrowed world for us. Living as poor(ish) college students swamped with work, homework and a semblance of social life, making a trip ad hoc to see a symphony seems out of character. Perhaps. But we shared a desire to see greatness, and we did.
It was I, my friend, and her brother, playing dress up in our finery and acting like we belonged. Not that we don’t. I am not so self-abasing that I think culture is reserved for the select few. Rather that it’s not our habit, and those environs not our usual ones.
Preceding the performance was a prelude, where a speaker gave a brief lecture on Mendelssohn and explained the pieces we would be hearing. The program included his “Hebrides Overture,” Concertro No. 1 and Symphony No. 3 (“Scottish”). Conducted by Jaap van Zweden with Alessio Bax on piano, it was two hours of pure sensory delight. Yes, hearing a piece from a CD can be invigorating, inspiring, even illuminating, but to be able to see the vitality, the passion, the physical strain, energy, and concentration of the players and their conductor adds another element to the experience. I find myself reacting physically to the pieces, becoming involved. Even though I don’t move, I lose my place in reality for a moment. I can shake myself as though from a dream, and realize I’m still staring at the conductor’s baton as it whirls and sweeps.
What joy, what talent, what inspiration can man divine! A collaboration of years of combined labor, a symphony requires perfect harmony to display a work of a master. What words can describe it? Do you think me sentimental? Exaggerating? A good performance of good art can transcend space and time. I saw the waves crashing madly against the rocks, I saw the sweeping hills and lonely moors and the pride of the Scots. It achieved in me what it was meant to. Mendelssohn composed well.
AE
