Canvas 1,086 — Cold Mountain
Cold mountain. Blue dawn. White wings. Ancient times were not so long ago. Those to come? What will they bring? And whose are these bare feet? Canvas 1,086November 8, 2017 . [ 912 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Art’
Canvas 456 — As a Shepherd
Again I ask myself, what of these strange drawings? Many years ago, I said they were all self-portraits. But now I wonder. Doesn’t that imply a bit too strongly that I existed prior to them, and that I am the one who made them, rather than the other way around? What seemed true then, feels much less so now. Might it not be that my existence was, and is, born […]
Cane
Now that I’ve finished it, I hope I am able to remember Jean Toomer’s novel, Cane. It has been this way for a great many years. The books I read have a way of passing through me. I retain impressions and moods, and lose most of the details. But the deep, dark poem that is Cane, the story of it, the play, is mood, is impression, is nightmare, stirring and […]
Crossroads
With the rain, the mushrooms — bright-white at first, they soon become flared skirts and fans in an elfin dance; cursed, or worse — or blessed — quiet, composed — kissed — for some the world ends like this; others are smashed by tanks and NATO equipment. September 28, 2020 Crossroads#2 Pencil on Index CardJuly 2, 2010 . [ 884 ]
Chance and the Rain
A walk in the dark through the rain. The rest only chance can explain. September 25, 2020 Chance and the Rain . [ 882 ]
In Memory of Laura Tedeschi
I read today of the passing of the artist Laura Tedeschi. She died April 4, 2018. I didn’t know. In 2010, Laura surprised me by painting my portrait. Quite by chance, after she’d shared it online, it arrived from Vienna on my birthday. On the back of the frame, Laura had written, “Lo Scrittore,” along with my name. The painting has been on display here in my library and work […]
Dostoevsky and Van Gogh
Having fortunately lived long enough to finish reading all three volumes of Vincent’s letters, I have moved on to Dostoevsky’s Diary of a Writer, in Boris Brasol’s English translation, published in two volumes by Charles Scribner’s Sons in 1949. After years of being away from Dostoevsky’s great novels and stories, coming upon him in the somewhat more casual, conversational mode of his periodical writings is much like having coffee with […]
The Mad Artist
Fifteen years. Do I really remember this, or does this remember me? . The Mad Artist Yesterday I was waiting at a light when a mad artist quickly sketched a little girl in front of me in the crosswalk. The girl looked up and gave me the prettiest, craziest smile — a smile of freedom and recognition. I replied with a silly grin. This made her eyes shine, even brighter […]
The Ghost in You
How strange — I feel cold, almost as if I were alive. “That, my friend, is the ghost in you.” Songs and Letters, September 30, 2008 [ 828 ]
Canvas 419 — I Wonder
I Wonder After a long absence, they began to fear for him, and so they sought him in the cave where he sometimes slept. He was not there; but they found a striking image of him which seemed to have etched itself onto one of the walls, where at certain times of the year water would seep through and trickle down. They gazed upon the image for a long […]
William Michaelian 