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8448. TheWizardOfWhimsy - 6/10/2007 4:18:58 PM Indeed, Judith!
Patsy, the above was published in the current edition of The New Criterion.
8449. wabbit - 7/3/2007 1:25:50 PM It's been a busy month for me and I've fallen far behind in my Mote reading. I just finished reading the Kimball piece - thank you for posting that, WoW. I remember getting into a debate in grad school about who was the most influential artist of the 20th century. The bulk of the debate vacillated between Picasso and Matisse, but I thought Duchamp was, for better or worse, more influential. It's a shame the irony was lost so quickly. A former teacher told me that when she was getting her MFA at Yale, she wanted to paint landscapes, but was told point-blank she would not receive a degree unless she painted something more "avant-garde". She said she essentially threw paint onto canvas, figuratively speaking, ending up with work she hated, but it got her a degree. What a shame. Her landscapes were beautiful. 8450. wabbit - 7/3/2007 1:27:33 PM RIP Beverly Sills.
Beverly Sills, the acclaimed Brooklyn-born coloratura soprano who was more popular with the American public than any opera singer since Enrico Caruso, even among people who never set foot in an opera house, died last night at her home in Manhattan. She was 78.
The cause was inoperable lung cancer, said her personal manager, Edgar Vincent.
Ms. Sills was America’s idea of a prima donna. Her plain-spoken manner and telegenic vitality made her a genuine celebrity and an invaluable advocate for the fine arts. Her life embodied an archetypal American story of humble origins, years of struggle, family tragedy and artistic triumph...
8451. alistairConnor - 7/5/2007 9:59:07 PM Another obit :
George Melly, jazz singer, anarchist, Liverpudlian, Surrealist, tart.
I read his autobiography, "Owning up", and recognised him as a kindred spirit. Missed a chance to see him perform when I was living in London in 1987, good lord that's 20 years ago. A colleague's father managed a pub in Deptford where Melly was appearing, he invited me but I turned him down out of sheer misanthropy. 8452. judithathome - 7/5/2007 10:12:05 PM Boots Randolph died this week, too. 8453. betty - 7/7/2007 3:40:04 AM oh I would give my kingdom for a good landscape.
8454. TheWizardOfWhimsy - 7/7/2007 4:13:42 AM Prescient as always, wabb!
Will these do, betty?
8455. TheWizardOfWhimsy - 7/7/2007 4:17:47 AM Adored the Melly obit, btw--thanks, ac. 8456. judithathome - 7/7/2007 6:02:21 PM Wiz, I love those...ink wash? 8457. TheWizardOfWhimsy - 7/7/2007 9:18:45 PM Thanks Judith; no those were actually black ink solarplate intaglios of some watercolor studies of a Tuscan tower complex near Siena that I've been working up lately. It's called: Montarrenti and these are views of the back.
Here's a watercolor: 
8458. TheWizardOfWhimsy - 7/7/2007 9:25:12 PM As you may have noticed, I've been a bit hung up on this place for awhile . . .
8459. wabbit - 7/7/2007 11:17:07 PM Gorgeous. 8460. betty - 7/8/2007 3:16:33 AM Wiz, those are lovely. and I can see why you would be hung up.
I love her landscapes. 8461. TheWizardOfWhimsy - 7/16/2007 3:50:57 PM 8462. wabbit - 7/22/2007 12:55:34 AM How cool is that?! 8463. wonkers2 - 8/2/2007 3:53:23 AM Walker Evans, or is it? 8464. wonkers2 - 8/12/2007 1:14:49 PM Was Elvis a racist like jexter? 8465. wabbit - 8/16/2007 6:48:24 PM Max Roach, a founder of modern jazz who rewrote the rules of drumming in the 1940’s and spent the rest of his career breaking musical barriers and defying listeners’ expectations, died early today at his home in New York. He was 83. 8466. wabbit - 9/6/2007 2:21:08 PM Luciano Pavarotti, the Italian singer whose ringing, pristine sound set a standard for operatic tenors of the postwar era, died early this morning at his home in Modena, in northern Italy. He was 71.
His death was announced by his manager, Terri Robson. The cause was pancreatic cancer... 8467. TheWizardOfWhimsy - 9/6/2007 6:15:38 PM Some Thoughts About Ink Stains
When mundane tedium is too much to bear or civilization seems to be crumbling faster than anyone anticipated, we all seek escape and renewal--maybe even a modicum of enchantment once in awhile. Art may well have evolved because it offers a respite from the anguish of a world gone mad. The fruitful illusions in a work of art can serve as a kind of aesthetic Rorschach test, transporting us to a realm of inner yearning while introducing us to our own vital nature. The basic ingredients for this kind of liberation havenÕt changed in centuries. They include an artistÕs desire to playfully invent a particular language of experience, combined with the viewerÕs mutual appetite to participate in the revelations possible in an imaginative idiom. If you have never pondered Victor HugoÕs ink drawings or MorandiÕs etchings and watercolors, then youÕre in for a refreshing release via the mindÕs eye.
The traditional meaning of the term graphic art is defined as a process for the creation of an artistic expression on a piece of paper: drawings, watercolors and prints. ItÕs a very old and arcane method evoking eidetic patterns from our visual intuition and history. In contemporary terms, this process downloads patterns of awareness to the viewerÕs brain, instantaneously--without words or electronics. That these objects for contemplation are also silent may well be their most humane gift; they rescue us from an environment that bombards us with distractions, preventing significant thought and meditation.
Every work of art is really about discovery and if truth be told, artists donÕt create anything--they discover. First they learn how to regain their childlike grace through play and then they learn a vocabulary that communicates their wonder. It is such an enticing form of joy; we readily recognize it and share in its curative powers. Artist and viewer become one in the treasure hunt as the image turns into a message in a bottleÑor a Grecian urn, as John Keats would have it.
And like other Romantic vagabonds infatuated with Italy and longing to escape the humdrum, I have played with brush and ink in hopes of rediscovering the revitalizing sensations of that antique land.
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