Sunshine and shadow play amid the trees
In bosky groves, while from the vivid sky
The sun’s gold arrows fleck the fields at noon,
Where weary cattle to their slumber hie.
How sweet the music of the purling rill,
Trickling adown the grassy hill!
While dreamy fancies come to give repose
When the first star of evening glows.
July, Henrietta Cordelia Ray
The Formalist on Bridget Hoffman.
Nicole Combeau: When we Surrender.
England vs Argentina (Messi), 1 – 2
https://id.rijksmuseum.nl/200612824
You can fall in love
in a museum, but only
with the art
or its silence—or the stranger
you don’t mean to follow
…
Diptych, Kevin Young
[the] use [of] the structural productivity of ambivalence in order to make better forms of life
Would inhabiting this help us open better imaginaries for jolting the good life into being … ?
build something out of actively shared energy to feel more optimistic about the world
(LB)
Relationships annealed through shared ambivalences.
Ongoing, Jenny Xie
to build worlds … without reproducing property relations, while continuing to reproduce other abjecting hierarchies related to class, race, and beauty. (LB)
The blackbird sings at
the frontier of his music.
The branch where he sat
marks the brink of doubt,
is the outpost of his realm,
edge from which to rout
encroachers with trills
and melismatic runs sur-
passing earthbound skills.
It sounds like ardor,
it sounds like joy. We are glad
here at the border
where he signs the air
with his invisible staves,
“Trespassers beware”—
Song as survival—
a kind of pure music which
we cannot rival.
Blackbird Etude, A.E. Stallings
In the avoidance of that which we seek––
The sudden silence and reserve when near––
The eye that glistens with an unshed tear––
The joy that seems the counterpart of fear,
As the alarmed heart leaps in the breast,
And knows, and names, and greets its godlike guest––
Thus doth Love speak.
[…]
Glance strikes with glance, swift flashing high and higher,
Like lightnings that precede the mighty storm;
In the deep soulful stillness; in the warm,
Impassioned tide that sweeps through throbbing veins,
Between the shores of keen delights and pains;
Love’s Language, Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Juliana Halpert on LACMA (e-flux)
“The “synchronic museum,” as he calls its new alternative, “would forego history in the name of a kind of intensity of experience, an aesthetic charge that is not so much temporal (historical) as it is now radically spatial.””
Ne fais jamais de peinture si tu veux vivre tranquille.
Corot, to a friend
The most inviting landscape, where we say,
“Here we may rest and make this landscape ours,”
For him is apprehension. To convey
A moment of its meaning calls on powers
He sometimes doubts possessing. In his hand
The palette with its colored spots and smears
Seems to match nothing. On the easel’s bland
And vacant canvas not a line appears
To guide him. While we gaze and shift our eyes
Accumulating all there is to see,
His fuller sight begins to realize
A world brought into being anxiously,
Where structured shapes and contoured colors show
A calmer scene than any we could know.
Thomas Carper, The Tranquil Life
The LRB Podcast, Poetry and the Turning World: Weather. Sarah Howe and Sandeep Parmar discusses wind, clouds, hurricanes via poems.
“The weather app is no oracle.” Maureen N. McLane
How do you represent the divine and the central miracles of Christianity? Divine Presence explores this question through the captivating world of marble representations in Late Gothic and Early Renaissance art. (Hatje Cantz Verlag)