Friday, October 9, 2020

Clair de Lune: Soar around the Moon, carried by Debussy

Richard Hawley - The Ocean

What I am currently reading: Soul, Symbol and Imagination: The Artistry of Astrology by Brian Clark

 

Soul, Symbol and Imagination

Astrology is so much more than a predictive and prescriptive typology. It is a soulful and evocative tradition that engages us in both rational and imaginal ways of knowing. As a practice involving the archetypal world of ideas, images and symbols, it places the practitioner in between the event and the soul’s experience, as the one who can see through the literal to the symbolic. Each horoscope is an invitation to consider the gods that live through us and the archetypal powers that pave our path of life. And since astrology is intimately involved with the heavens, it will always be intimately involved with the divine. In this way astrology is divinatory, as it concerns the will of the gods and inspires a knowledge that is beyond our rational control and often outside our own understanding.

The Artistry of Astrology is a meditation on astrological practice and an invitation to return imagination to the heavens.

Thursday, October 8, 2020

 

“There is comfort in keeping what is sacred inside us not as a secret, but as a prayer.”


― Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice

Gundula Janowitz, Soprano. Richard Strauss, Im Abendrot, Four Last Songs.

Georgia O’Keeffe on the Art of Seeing

 

“To see takes time, like to have a friend takes time.”

Georgia O’Keeffe on the Art of Seeing

In her stunning autobiographical reflection on the moment she understood what it means to be an artist, Virginia Woolf beheld the cosmos of connections in a single flower. Decades later, the Nobel-winning physicist Richard Feynman offered a different, complementary lens on the art of seeing through his now-famous monologue known as “Ode to a Flower.”

Before Feynman, before Woolf, another titan of the creative spirit found a powerful metaphor for how we experience the world — how we see it, and how we don’t — in a flower.

Georgia O’Keeffe, Red Canna, 1924 (Georgia O’Keeffe Museum)

“I found that I could say things with colour and shapes that I couldn’t say in any other way things that I had no words for,” Georgia O’Keeffe (November 15, 1887–March 6, 1986) wrote in the foreword to a catalog for an exhibition of her work two decades before she became the first female artist honored with a retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art — a triumph largely predicated on her arresting large-scale paintings of flowers, magnified and abstracted to radiate uncommon emotional intensity haloed by awe. Although art critics consistently insisted that O’Keeffe’s depictions of flowers were her commentary on women’s sexuality, the artist herself resolutely denied these interpretations. For her, they were her commentary on seeing — a magnifying lens for the attention. Painting these close-ups was a way of learning to look, a way of removing the blinders with which we gallop through the world, slowing down, shedding our notions and concepts of things, and taking things in as they really are.

Georgia O’Keeffe by Rufus Holsinger, 1915 (Albert & Shirley Small Special Collections Library)

In a passage originally published in the exhibition catalog An American Place — which also gave us O’Keeffe’s serenade to blue — and later cited in Georgia O’Keeffe: The Poetry of Things (public library), she writes:

A flower is relatively small. Everyone has many associations with a flower — the idea of flowers. You put out your hand to touch the flower — lean forward to smell it — maybe touch it with your lips almost without thinking — or give it to someone to please them. Still — in a way — nobody sees a flower — really — it is so small — we haven’t time — and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time. If I could paint the flower exactly as I see it no one would see what I see because I would paint it small like the flower is small.

So I said to myself — I’ll paint what I see — what the flower is to me but I’ll paint it big and they will be surprised into taking time to look at it — I will make even busy New-Yorkers take time to see what I see of flowers.

Well — I made you take time to look at what I saw and when you took time to really notice my flower, you hung all your own associations with flowers on my flower and you write about my flower as if I think and see what you think and see of the flower — and I don’t.

Georgia O’Keeffe, Grey Lines with Black, Blue and Yellow, 1923 (Georgia O’Keeffe Museum)

Complement with O’Keeffe on setting prioritiessuccess, public opinion, and what it means to be an artist, and her passionate love letters to Alfred Stieglitz, then revisit cognitive scientist Alexandra Horowitz on the art of looking, Annie Dillard on the secret to seeing, philosopher Martin Buber on what a tree can teach us about seeing others as they truly are, John Ruskin on how drawing trains you to see more clearly and live with greater presence, and Emily Dickinson’s astounding herbarium — a forgotten masterpiece of attention at the intersection of poetry and science.

https://www.brainpickings.org/2018/11/15/georgia-okeeffe-flower/?mc_cid=c3336f0aa7&mc_eid=26b43dce6b

Salt House - Charmer