Weblog 117
May 04, 2008~ 12:00am
Yesterday evening was a showing of my daughter Holly's hand-sewn "monsters" at a small art gallery here in Pittsburgh. We were very excited about it, and the evening was colorful and fabulous in every way.
Wayne had originally sketched some monsters at the behest of little Bill last year around Halloween, but we were amazed at Christmas time when Holly stitched these for us as gifts made from scraps of material and leather, vinyl-- you name it. The idea was so wonderful that Monica Phillips, who's an artist friend of Holly's, suggested she stitch some up for a Pittsburgh art initiative called "First Fridays". Here in Pittsburgh, in a small section of Garfield where a new artistic wave is happening, they've targeted the first Friday evening of each month for the showing of local talent in a celebration they've named, "Unblurred"- and I think that's neat... because that's what art does: it brings into focus those things we normally do not take the time to look at with the kind of creative eye essential to make objects leap to life.
And I love old houses. The name of the gallery is called, "Metamorphose"- and it's fairly draped in fuschia fabric, and there are stuffed chairs sequined to look like peacock feathers, and another in a pattern reminiscent of Van Gogh's "Starry Night"-- and it's got track-lighting, paintings, jewelry, clothing, photographs......just a magical, lovely place.
Holly's spot was in darkened front hallway of the old row house, which gave it wonderful atmosphere- but alas, the lighting was not the best for photos. (And my limited skills, for sure) but I caught what I could-
The monsters were Liver-Eater, The Eye, Deadly Death, etc. LOL!!! (Some of these were little Bill's own names.) Here's 'The Eye', seen closer-
then there was the worm, which reminded me of the fluke, that horrible worm thing from the old X-Files show.....
And though this picture came out very dark- and you cannot see the vibrant red felt that this guy's made of, this Red Devil- with the Dudley Dooright chin- was a real charmer
And HERE is the artist herself! That's Holly- (Holly Lindenfelser) on the left in a dress she made herself, standing here looking so happy with her friend, Beth, and both of them holding the 'piss-the-beds' ('dandelions' to some) picked for them in right there in the yard by little Kay and Bill. Ah, the perks of fame....
And of course, the kiddoes were there. I present.....the children of the artist.....dressed for the occasion.
Bill would like it pointed out that this is his 'summer haircut'- "the BUZZ"- and that underneath that shiny material on his chest, there resides his beloved Batman. (His mom assured him that she could remove the whip-stiched design and release Batman once again)- and of course Kay looks devastatingly fetching in her haute couture, sheath gown. She's a ham, she is!
And if you look closely... there I be, taking a picture of myself framed inside of a beautiful large mirror and wearing my Firefox t-shirt-- showing off the now nearly-white hair. Thank God it's hard to make me out. LOL!!
Sharing the evening's showing was a pixie-sized Portuguese artist named Joana Ricou, and believe me-- her large paintings of ribbons of nudes were astonishing! Reminded me of Michelangelo and his Sistine Chapel rendering of creation. Just LOOK at these hands!
Here's another shot of a portion of one her very large canvasses. She is remarkable. If I had a new apartment to decorate, I'd made this the centerpiece, then surround it in warm colors-- with one vivid blue bowl filled with apples.
I wished I'd snapped a photo of her. She's just as cute as a button. Little package....huge talent. If you want to see the Metamorphose website, click here. And follow the link to learn more about the revitalization of the Garfield area here in Pittsburgh. We know that Shadyside has always been the gathering place for artists since back in the 60's-- and the South Side has transmogrified into 'artistic Bohemia' over the past 20 years, but now there's Garfield stepping up to join hands with the more established pockets of creative juices. All in all, 'twas a wonderful night. And I am so very proud of my sewing, avant-garde daughter. She always astonishes. Always....(big GRIN here.)
May 05, 2008~ 7:00pm
"Curiouser and curiouser" as Alice would say. Today I thought I'd play around with the image generator, and plugged in "persistent melancholy"......what do you think I got back?
Like the great head in The Wizard of Oz, up popped old T.S. Eliot himself!...quite stunningly I think! I did a Google search to see if perhaps that was a phrase from one of his poems, but no....I guess melancholy just chooses what it chooses. He is forever icon of the sad and thoughtful humours we humans stew in.
What is really strange is that for the past several days I have been listening to 3 CD's in my car called "Poetry Speaks"- and I have to say that while I used to consider Eliot one of the finest readers, he cannot compare to Berryman or Ann Sexton for sheer crispness or emotional impact. And cannot come close to the way my hair stood on end upon hearing Carl Sandburg's eerie, almost sung recitation of 'Grass' or 'The People, Yes'-- or the elevated chant of Yeats, or the deep pathos and richness of Theodore Roethke.
Oddly disappointing were Ginsberg (whom I've heard before- he must have gotten better with time) and the much touted declamation of Dylan Thomas, whose reading of 'Fern Hill' sounded formulaic to me, and melodramatic. Two made me laugh out loud: Ogden Nash, in his 'Let Me Tell You About My novel' in which he proceeds to give all the reasons why his own family is simply not 'novel' material by citing uncles and relatives who are boring to a fault as he repeats the same refrain, "Look at my uncle, just look! Hooooooooow can I write a book." LOL!!! The other poet who got me giggling was the wry wit of Frank O'Hara in 'Poem' -(or "Lana Turner Has Collapsed!")- but the astonishing truth to the wonderful reading that Phillip Larkin brings to 'The Old Fools'- a poem about the elderly, had me laughing while I wanted to cry. His delivery is clear and impeccable, and the words simply sunder.
And so sad...
in the suicidal poets, I could hear the suicides someday. And they were perhaps the best readers- (except for Sylvia Plath reading 'Daddy', where she simply sounds snotty and petulant.) They should have chosen 'Lady Lazarus'-*[see farther below] She destroys with that poem- I'd heard a recording of her reading it once before.
So there above- sits the large melancholy head of Eliot. I hope the old fella found some peace in his lifetime. Some of the most haunting lines in the English language belong to him. It would please me to think that it made him happy.
May 06, 2008~ 6:15pm
Let me just grab a chair here...step up onto it and say,
Fumo Forever!
There. Was that loud enough for narrow pinheads to hear, with their itty-bitty ears? Today I'm mighty proud to be a Democrat from Pennsylvania.
Never before have I come across proposed legistation so brilliantly savvy, so obvious in the way it points out the prejudice and the ridiculous hypocrisy of most of the knee-jerk, homophobic American poplulace than this.
Bravo, Senator Fumo. I am so damned sick and tired of the way conservatives lather on their sickening worship of the 'sanctity of marriage' bullshit, I could just kiss you, sir. Fumo.....you made my day!. LOL!! (And Pittsburgh
Post-Gazette, so have you. Once again.
There is.................intelligent life on earth.
May 08, 2008~ 7:15pm
Imagine my shock when I again listened to the poetry CD again on my way to and from work today to find Plath's work does include *Lady Lazarus! - and how very differently I remember it since last I heard it, 20 years ago....
so I began reading a good sampling of Plath online, and honest to Pete, I think she was a much over-rated writer.
Sylvia is now more cult than poet-- she's become the symbol of female angst and female anger (especially young ones, not quite-formed) not nearly grown into the women they will eventually become. After all, the she was practically still a child when she died by her own hand at the age of 30! Goodness gracious.
And she was a 'hothouse flower'...
not sturdy to begin with, Sylvia was perfectionistic to a fault- and it's one of the things that makes much of her early verse quite wooden and too 'fretted over'-- too careful-- and I came right smack up against that this evening while reading her work. So here we have a writer who jumps from too careful and controlled, to slashing out in spitting rage....I cannot reconcile those two. She's a scary writer--- but scary isn't necessarily good, it's simply jolting.
Some stalks do not bend but break- some angers explode, and yes! that is what I hear in her voice in the later poems- a barely contained rage that seems to be running through her like a train through a tunnel, and it's unsettling and mean. Sylvia became petulant, snarly, vicious-- finally deeply, darkly depressed, and at last obliterated herself.
She's a cause célèbre-- and I find I no longer like the work of Plath. She did indeed 'destroy with that poem' as stated above, but only herself.
***
(Return To Weekly Archives)
Yesterday evening was a showing of my daughter Holly's hand-sewn "monsters" at a small art gallery here in Pittsburgh. We were very excited about it, and the evening was colorful and fabulous in every way.
Wayne had originally sketched some monsters at the behest of little Bill last year around Halloween, but we were amazed at Christmas time when Holly stitched these for us as gifts made from scraps of material and leather, vinyl-- you name it. The idea was so wonderful that Monica Phillips, who's an artist friend of Holly's, suggested she stitch some up for a Pittsburgh art initiative called "First Fridays". Here in Pittsburgh, in a small section of Garfield where a new artistic wave is happening, they've targeted the first Friday evening of each month for the showing of local talent in a celebration they've named, "Unblurred"- and I think that's neat... because that's what art does: it brings into focus those things we normally do not take the time to look at with the kind of creative eye essential to make objects leap to life.
And I love old houses. The name of the gallery is called, "Metamorphose"- and it's fairly draped in fuschia fabric, and there are stuffed chairs sequined to look like peacock feathers, and another in a pattern reminiscent of Van Gogh's "Starry Night"-- and it's got track-lighting, paintings, jewelry, clothing, photographs......just a magical, lovely place.
Holly's spot was in darkened front hallway of the old row house, which gave it wonderful atmosphere- but alas, the lighting was not the best for photos. (And my limited skills, for sure) but I caught what I could-
The monsters were Liver-Eater, The Eye, Deadly Death, etc. LOL!!! (Some of these were little Bill's own names.) Here's 'The Eye', seen closer-
then there was the worm, which reminded me of the fluke, that horrible worm thing from the old X-Files show.....
And though this picture came out very dark- and you cannot see the vibrant red felt that this guy's made of, this Red Devil- with the Dudley Dooright chin- was a real charmer
And HERE is the artist herself! That's Holly- (Holly Lindenfelser) on the left in a dress she made herself, standing here looking so happy with her friend, Beth, and both of them holding the 'piss-the-beds' ('dandelions' to some) picked for them in right there in the yard by little Kay and Bill. Ah, the perks of fame....
And of course, the kiddoes were there. I present.....the children of the artist.....dressed for the occasion.
Bill would like it pointed out that this is his 'summer haircut'- "the BUZZ"- and that underneath that shiny material on his chest, there resides his beloved Batman. (His mom assured him that she could remove the whip-stiched design and release Batman once again)- and of course Kay looks devastatingly fetching in her haute couture, sheath gown. She's a ham, she is!
And if you look closely... there I be, taking a picture of myself framed inside of a beautiful large mirror and wearing my Firefox t-shirt-- showing off the now nearly-white hair. Thank God it's hard to make me out. LOL!!
Sharing the evening's showing was a pixie-sized Portuguese artist named Joana Ricou, and believe me-- her large paintings of ribbons of nudes were astonishing! Reminded me of Michelangelo and his Sistine Chapel rendering of creation. Just LOOK at these hands!
Here's another shot of a portion of one her very large canvasses. She is remarkable. If I had a new apartment to decorate, I'd made this the centerpiece, then surround it in warm colors-- with one vivid blue bowl filled with apples.
I wished I'd snapped a photo of her. She's just as cute as a button. Little package....huge talent. If you want to see the Metamorphose website, click here. And follow the link to learn more about the revitalization of the Garfield area here in Pittsburgh. We know that Shadyside has always been the gathering place for artists since back in the 60's-- and the South Side has transmogrified into 'artistic Bohemia' over the past 20 years, but now there's Garfield stepping up to join hands with the more established pockets of creative juices. All in all, 'twas a wonderful night. And I am so very proud of my sewing, avant-garde daughter. She always astonishes. Always....(big GRIN here.)
May 05, 2008~ 7:00pm
"Curiouser and curiouser" as Alice would say. Today I thought I'd play around with the image generator, and plugged in "persistent melancholy"......what do you think I got back?
Like the great head in The Wizard of Oz, up popped old T.S. Eliot himself!...quite stunningly I think! I did a Google search to see if perhaps that was a phrase from one of his poems, but no....I guess melancholy just chooses what it chooses. He is forever icon of the sad and thoughtful humours we humans stew in.
What is really strange is that for the past several days I have been listening to 3 CD's in my car called "Poetry Speaks"- and I have to say that while I used to consider Eliot one of the finest readers, he cannot compare to Berryman or Ann Sexton for sheer crispness or emotional impact. And cannot come close to the way my hair stood on end upon hearing Carl Sandburg's eerie, almost sung recitation of 'Grass' or 'The People, Yes'-- or the elevated chant of Yeats, or the deep pathos and richness of Theodore Roethke.
Oddly disappointing were Ginsberg (whom I've heard before- he must have gotten better with time) and the much touted declamation of Dylan Thomas, whose reading of 'Fern Hill' sounded formulaic to me, and melodramatic. Two made me laugh out loud: Ogden Nash, in his 'Let Me Tell You About My novel' in which he proceeds to give all the reasons why his own family is simply not 'novel' material by citing uncles and relatives who are boring to a fault as he repeats the same refrain, "Look at my uncle, just look! Hooooooooow can I write a book." LOL!!! The other poet who got me giggling was the wry wit of Frank O'Hara in 'Poem' -(or "Lana Turner Has Collapsed!")- but the astonishing truth to the wonderful reading that Phillip Larkin brings to 'The Old Fools'- a poem about the elderly, had me laughing while I wanted to cry. His delivery is clear and impeccable, and the words simply sunder.
And so sad...
in the suicidal poets, I could hear the suicides someday. And they were perhaps the best readers- (except for Sylvia Plath reading 'Daddy', where she simply sounds snotty and petulant.) They should have chosen 'Lady Lazarus'-*[see farther below] She destroys with that poem- I'd heard a recording of her reading it once before.
So there above- sits the large melancholy head of Eliot. I hope the old fella found some peace in his lifetime. Some of the most haunting lines in the English language belong to him. It would please me to think that it made him happy.
May 06, 2008~ 6:15pm
Let me just grab a chair here...step up onto it and say,
There. Was that loud enough for narrow pinheads to hear, with their itty-bitty ears? Today I'm mighty proud to be a Democrat from Pennsylvania.
Never before have I come across proposed legistation so brilliantly savvy, so obvious in the way it points out the prejudice and the ridiculous hypocrisy of most of the knee-jerk, homophobic American poplulace than this.
Bravo, Senator Fumo. I am so damned sick and tired of the way conservatives lather on their sickening worship of the 'sanctity of marriage' bullshit, I could just kiss you, sir. Fumo.....you made my day!. LOL!! (And Pittsburgh
There is.................intelligent life on earth.
May 08, 2008~ 7:15pm
Imagine my shock when I again listened to the poetry CD again on my way to and from work today to find Plath's work does include *Lady Lazarus! - and how very differently I remember it since last I heard it, 20 years ago....
so I began reading a good sampling of Plath online, and honest to Pete, I think she was a much over-rated writer.
Sylvia is now more cult than poet-- she's become the symbol of female angst and female anger (especially young ones, not quite-formed) not nearly grown into the women they will eventually become. After all, the she was practically still a child when she died by her own hand at the age of 30! Goodness gracious.
And she was a 'hothouse flower'...
not sturdy to begin with, Sylvia was perfectionistic to a fault- and it's one of the things that makes much of her early verse quite wooden and too 'fretted over'-- too careful-- and I came right smack up against that this evening while reading her work. So here we have a writer who jumps from too careful and controlled, to slashing out in spitting rage....I cannot reconcile those two. She's a scary writer--- but scary isn't necessarily good, it's simply jolting.
Some stalks do not bend but break- some angers explode, and yes! that is what I hear in her voice in the later poems- a barely contained rage that seems to be running through her like a train through a tunnel, and it's unsettling and mean. Sylvia became petulant, snarly, vicious-- finally deeply, darkly depressed, and at last obliterated herself.
She's a cause célèbre-- and I find I no longer like the work of Plath. She did indeed 'destroy with that poem' as stated above, but only herself.
(Return To Weekly Archives)
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