Reinvention

One of the great things about being a human is that one — sometimes — has a chance to re-invent oneself. I see it in my boys as they go off to school, as they take jobs, as they travel. And now I’m going to engineer a small reinvention for myself. I’m going back to school. Art school. A course in illustration. So that I can draw, draw, draw. It’s a kind of reinvention, and it’s a kind of returning to something that has been in there all along.

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Self portrait in pencil.

I’m taking the first class this summer: Narrative Drawing. Here’s a self portrait from one assignment. Last week we drew Greek and Roman sculptures from the museum’s collection.

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Chios Head, from the MFA, Boston. Pencil drawing.

I’ve added soft sketching pencils to my box, and a good eraser. Am now off to draw hands…

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Posted in Drawing, Process, School

Bach Fugue no. 2 in C minor

My musical education has been serendipitous, governed by enthusiasms and little knowledge. I began with with Mozart pieces, and then rested with Eric Satie for a while. Then, motivated by a love of Traumerei, I pushed through the Kinderscenen by Schumann, and alighted upon Beethoven. That took several years. Schubert, Chopin, and Debussy followed in no particular order.

One day not too long ago I read that both Chopin and Debussy admired Johann Sebastian Bach. So now I go back to where it all began, with the well-tempered clavier and Bach. Let me tell you, they are not so simple. How am I ever going to get the proper voices in that tangled-up fugue?

Petrus Christus 4

Here is a picture of my color woodcut of Portrait of a Young Girl by Petrus Christus. she’s looking a bit dubious; perhaps she too is worried about that fugue.

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Posted in Piano, Process

Commencement

We have arrived at that proud, happy, and confusingly painful moment. College Graduation. A sea of red robes and radiant faces. Much advice being offered — so much advice and is anybody listening? Not really. They’re on their way.

You think it will never happen. And then it does.

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I keep a day book but instead of entering appointments, I like to make pictures — illustrations of my life as it courses along. Here’s a rendering of what we saw on Sunday in the bright sunshine of a happy day.

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Posted in Life and love, Process

May

In our household, May is a time of movement. Those at college, and that would be everybody except me, are now finishing up their term assignments. Soon they will be packing their bags, making big plans for summer, and — I hope — coming home at least for a while. I am thinking about trips to the grocery store and wondering if the washing machine is strong enough for one more season. In August they will disperse again. Sometimes I feel like the person in the middle of the ring, holding the strings to many soaring kites.

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Posted in Life and love, Travelling

Getting Old and Starting Fresh

Bonnard’s Nudes

by Raymond Carver

His wife. Forty years he painted her.

Again and again. The nude in the last painting

the same young nude as the first. His wife.

As he remembered her young. As she was young.

His wife in her bath. At her dressing table

in front of the mirror. Undressed.

His wife with her hands under her breasts

looking out on the garden.

The sun bestowing warmth and color.

Every living thing in bloom there.

She young and tremulous and most desirable.

When she died he painted a while longer.

A few landscapes. Then he died.

And was put down next to her.

His young wife.

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Posted in Life and love, Process

Memory

We had a memorial service for my mother this past weekend. She was born in Maine and she loved the sea.

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This one’s for you, Mom.

She was my mother, and sometimes, even often, she drove me crazy, but we were lucky. She faced the world with a smile, and made the best of what she was given. You really cannot ask for more than that.

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Posted in Life and love

Ancient Stones

Last night we had dinner with a young guy who has traveled around the globe looking at the stone works of ancient civilizations. He’s been to Peru and Mexico, all over Europe, places in the middle East. Asia and Africa next; he’s looking for a way to get there.

I have read that the ancient Peruvians believed stones to be alive. I think maybe Michaelangelo thought the same thing.

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Marble bull from below the pulpit, Cordoba Mosque-Cathedral; and Roman sculpture from Museum of Archaeology, Cordoba.

Finally, when you think about it, stone is what is left and it is amazing what stories it can tell us.

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Posted in Life and love, Travelling