Merci

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The lovely village of St. Cyprien-Dordogne is where we were living last Thanksgiving, celebrating quietly and far from home. This year, back in our native land, and happy and thankful for the beloved company of family and old friends, we’re also grateful for those we came to know in our adopted land and anxious about the recent attacks on this spirited, creative, humorous and resilient people. I look forward to a day (probably centuries beyond my lifetime) when we might celebrate in harmony a universal Thanksgiving in appreciation for our beautiful world and everyone in it.

Below, a poem for this day.

AutumnStCyprienR

Te Deum
Not because of victories
I sing,
having none,
but for the common sunshine,
the breeze,
the largess of the spring.

Not for victory
but for the day’s work done
as well as I was able;
not for a seat upon the dais
but at the common table.
—Charles Reznikoff

Mesmerized by Music/Mahler’s Third Symphony

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I am sorry about two things: first, that Swedish mezzo-soprano Anne Sofie von Otter is a mere tiny purple splotch in this sketch; and second, that I didn’t know until too late that she also would be singing—among other things—Simon and Garfunkel later in November at the Library of Congress.

Mahler3NSO

Yahrzeit2

Joe

Yahrzeit2

Erna

 

A Calendar for 2016

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Here is a new calendar for 2016, each month featuring one of my seasonal still-lifes. (Unless you prefer to be surprised, you can scroll down to see the twelve still-lifes featured below.) The calendar is 8-1/2″ x 11″ and printed on sturdy satin stock, substantial enough so the images can be saved as prints.

A single calendar is $23; a set of three is $60. Shipping is 3-day Priority Mail, domestic US.

(If you are in my area, you can obtain a calendar from me directly without shipping—just let me know.)

Cover2016CalSm

For one calendar:




 

For a set of three calendars:




Here are the paintings featured each month, for those who can’t resist peeking ahead.Calendar2016Months600

Each Day is a Celebration: Exhibition

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On Thursday, October 8th, an exhibition of my paintings will open at the Art League Gallery at the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria, Virginia. It will run through November 1st. The show will include the work I did while living in France, as well as before and since. All the information is below. I hope some of you will come to see it—and perhaps even make the opening reception that evening. 

Harrington Card final-frontLR

 

Harrington Card back

 

CakeChrysanth

Tessa

Orchard

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For the first of October, a poem by Hilda Doolittle, and a painting of Saturday market pears and calendula (growing wild by the Languedoc vineyards and known locally as souci).

CalendulaWithPears

I saw the first pear
as it fell-
the honey-seeking, golden-banded,
the yellow swarm
was not more fleet than I,
(spare us from loveliness)
and I fell prostrate
crying:
you have flayed us
with your blossoms,
spare us the beauty
of fruit-trees.
The honey-seeking
paused not,
the air thundered their song,
and I alone was prostrate.
O rough-hewn
god of the orchard,
I bring you an offering–
do you, alone unbeautiful,
son of the god,
spare us from loveliness:
these fallen hazel-nuts,
stripped late of their green sheaths,
grapes, red-purple,
their berries
dripping with wine,
pomegranates already broken,
and shrunken figs
and quinces untouched,
I bring you as offering.

—H.D. (Hilda Doolittle)

CakeAutLeavesAmelia

CakeOranges
Honora

Three zinnias from the Sunday street market

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It’s the first of September, which signals, along with the late afternoon singing of cicadas, that, alas, the end of summer draws near. Here are a painting, and a rather melancholy poem, for the day. (There is a cartoon in my sketchbook to accompany the creation of this painting, which I will post eventually.)

ThreeZinniasPost

Fair Summer Droops
Fair summer droops, droop men and beasts therefore,
So fair a summer look for nevermore:
All good things vanish less than in a day,
Peace, plenty, pleasure, suddenly decay.
Go not yet away, bright soul of the sad year,
The earth is hell when thou leav’st to appear.

What, shall those flowers that decked thy garland erst,
Upon thy grave be wastefully dispersed?
O trees, consume your sap in sorrow’s source,
Streams, turn to tears your tributary course.
Go not yet hence, bright soul of the sad year,
The earth is hell when thou leav’st to appear.

—Thomas Nashe, from Summer’s Last Will and Testament

CakeBlackEyeSusan

Elizabeth