Category: language

foto-verde-1.jpg or and such are daffodils

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foto-verde-1.jpg via Luz y Tierra (August 2020)

[…]

Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.

Endymion, Book I, [A thing of beauty is a joy for ever], John Keats

batch of grainy residue

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the soaring dust of the mortal realm by Fei Ming ??

Translated By Yilin Wang, Translated from the Chinese

not to speak of timely rain falling wondrously upon ethereal mountains,

nor to dwell on footsteps echoing through hollow illusory valleys,

here’s yet another predictable batch of grainy residue,

still the mortal dust of the vast universe—

beyond the eaves, the lone call of a sparrow.

alas, pages of poetry, please become ashes taking flight.

the empty void is a speck of the heart that cherishes deeply.

the universe is a particle of unbroken dust drifting in the air.

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AG2025_1200812a or so very distant

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When night comes,
                I am so flushed with wine,
I undo my hair slowly:
                a plum calyx is
        stuck on a damaged branch.
I wake dazed when smoke
        breaks my spring sleep.
The dream distant,
                so very distant;
        and it is quiet, so very quiet.
The moon spins and spins.
The kingfisher blinds are drawn;
                and yet I rub the injured bud,
        and yet I twist in my fingers this fragrance,
        and yet I possess these moments of time!

 Poem by Li Ch’ing-chao, translated by Arthur Sze

Present

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Bakehouse at Forty: Past, Present, Future, November 8, 2025 – April 17, 2026.

Present offers a dynamic glimpse of the creative life of Bakehouse today, foregrounding the multiplicity of voices and modes of expression by which artists both reflect and reimagine the world around us. Against the backdrop of great precarity for cultural producers everywhere, Bakehouse artists have forged their own systems of support– not only through shared resources, but through daily acts of showing up for one another. Across this space, ideas flow beyond studio walls, conversations spill into hallways, and countless gestures of kinship and collaboration become integral to the artists’ practice. Representing a microcosm within a broader cultural ecosystem, these fusions– whether intentional, intuitive, or incidental– embody the transformative possibilities of collective care and community building.

Featuring work by 28 current resident and associate artists, Present reflects the breadth of perspectives, disciplines, and identities that define Bakehouse and, by extension, Miami’s cultural landscape. Rather than advancing a singular theme, the exhibition traces various shared touchpoints, highlighting a strong sense of place rooted in the specificity of South Florida; generational connections and divergences; and an emphasis on the here and now that resonates as both timely and timeless.

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Delay

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Poststructuralism and Self-Censorship at Palais de Tokyo, Louise Darblay (ArtReview)

“Unfolding across the whole of the Palais de Tokyo, Echo. Reverb. Delay. is underpinned by a premise that feels both so evident and yet has rarely been articulated in an exhibition until now: that American artists (and the academia before them) have long absorbed, transformed and re-exported the ideas of French and francophone thinkers from the 1960s onwards, not only echoing but reshaping these ideas in the process. (Although one could argue Beckwith is here picking up where the 1977 Pompidou show Paris-New York, which traced similar transatlantic connections from early-twentieth century to the 1960s, left off.) Simply put, it’s a show about how the circulation of ideas can spark radical transformation.”

Anastasia Samoylova: Atlantic Coast, Norton Museum of Art, on view through March 1, 2026.

BD

The reach of peace

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Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing;
   I look far out into the pregnant night,
Where I can hear a solemn booming gun
   And catch the gleaming of a random light,
That tells me that the ship I seek is passing, passing.

My tearful eyes my soul's deep hurt are glassing;
   For I would hail and check that ship of ships.
I stretch my hands imploring, cry aloud,
   My voice falls dead a foot from mine own lips,
And but its ghost doth reach that vessel, passing, passing.

O Earth, O Sky, O Ocean, both surpassing,
   O heart of mine, O soul that dreads the dark!
Is there no hope for me? Is there no way
   That I may sight and check that speeding bark
Which out of sight and sound is passing, passing?

Ships That Pass in the Night , Paul Laurence Dunbar

The reach of peace, the sky, the pines,
Leave me no more perplexed,
In which a memory divines
That bodies, buried, yet arise
Across the reach of all the skies,
Unburied and unvexed.
As arisen are the grass, the pines.
In upward-grown, delighted lines —
As a swimmer with one wave declines 
And rises with the next.

The Swimmer, Witter Bynner