I’ve had this magnet on my refrigerator for years, but I love the way the sticker looks in a car window with the (West Cleveland) sky reflected…
Being a parent is like being an artist
Jerry Saltz, in “How To Be An Artist”:
As artist Laurel Nakadate has observed, being a parent is already very much like being an artist. It means always lugging things around, living in chaos, doing things that are mysterious or impossible or scary. As with art, children can drive you crazy all day, make you wish all this could go away. Then in a single second, at any point, you are redeemed with a moment of intense, transformative love.
I like this version, too::
“Art and kids are very similar: You have to lug stuff around, your home is always a mess, you never know what’s coming next, you are horrified by what you’ve done, and then you’re redeemed by a burst of transformative love.”
Above image: a painting by Erik Westra’s girls. (He gave them a “24-hour pass” to cover the walls before a home renovation). Below: a painting by the great Cy Twombly.
Tomas Tranströmer at the piano
Here’s a video of Swedish poet Tomas Tranströmer playing the piano just a few years before he died, accompanied by an early recording of him reading his poem, “Allegro.”
I play Haydn after a black day
and feel a simple warmth in my hands.The keys are willing. Soft hammers strike.
You’ll notice he’s only playing with his left hand: he suffered a stroke in 1990, at age 59, and lost the use of his right arm. (It also took out much of his ability to speak.) From his NYTimes obit:
Mr. Transtromer’s poetry production slowed after his stroke, but he took refuge in music, playing the piano with just his left hand. As a testament to his prominence in Sweden, several composers there wrote pieces for the left hand specifically for him.
There’s actually a whole subgenre of piano music composed or arranged for the left hand alone. Brahms arranged some Bach works for Clara Schumann after she suffered a hand injury. Paul Wittgenstein (older brother of the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein) commissioned several works after his right arm was amputated in the First World War. Benjamin Britten, Sergei Prokofiev, Richard Strauss, and Maurice Ravel all wrote compositions for him. (Most famous being Ravel’s “Piano Concerto for the Left Hand.”)
But back to Tranströmer: we’re Wintering in the North this season, so I brought along my copy of The Deleted World, which I bought several years ago (at the recommendation of Nicole) and never cracked until now. Here’s a beautiful verse:
In the middle of life, death comes
to take your measurements. The visit
is forgotten and life goes on. But the suit
is being sewn on the sly.
And here’s a beautiful verse from “Preludes,” quoted by Teju Cole at the beginning of his appreciation for the poet (although I prefer this May Swenson translation):
Two truths approach each other
One comes from within,
one comes from without — and where they meet you have the chance
to catch a look at yourself.
Covers
Covers of my diaries, 2017-2018. (Related: Paper monuments to human effort.)
Thoreau on winter
“I love the winter, with its imprisonment and its cold, for it compels the prisoner to try new fields and resources.”
—Thoreau, journal, Dec. 5, 1856
Photo taken on Lake Erie yesterday.
We’re gonna make it
Love this from @euvelab: “Little notes one finds in the darkest corners of @BookPeople.” I think that was a sticky note I doodled on and stuck on some calendars in the store. (We are, btw. Even if it kills us.)
All that was left
I’m moving studios. On the morning before the movers showed up, the first copy of Keep Going arrived in the mail. In the evening, after the movers had loaded the last box on the truck, this was all that was left on the garage floor: a pencil stub and a vellum doodle of the memento mori I’ve been drawing for the past two years, who make several appearances in the book. Strange. And perfect.
Hello, beautiful
Just held the first print copy of Keep Going in my hands. I love how this book turned out and can’t wait to send it out into the world.
Slippery People
One of my favorite covers that makes even more sense than you’d think: Byrne stole moves from the Staples’ world and then they stole some back:
Byrne’s Gumby-like dance moves for Stop Making Sense had been in part inspired by the way worshippers in Southern sanctified churches responded when filled with the Holy Spirit, their bodies writhing and undulating while speaking in tongues. “David’s inspiration was seeing people in church, and that’s what I connected with,” Mavis Staples says. “My head went off into the Bible.”
I played The Staples doing the song on Soul Train for my six-year-old and he jumped up and shouted, “I GOTTA DANCE!”
The only appropriate reaction.
Winter in America
On Spotify I came across a live version of Gil Scott-Heron’s “Winter in America” (from Tour De Force) that starts with an opening monologue that isn’t included on the record cut:
There’s only one season lately. There used to be an agreement between the seasons, that they would all stay for three months, and then go wherever seasons go when they’re not where we are. Lately there has been no spring, no summer, and no fall. Politically, and philosophically, and psychologically. There has only been the season of ice. It is the season of frozen dreams and frozen nightmares. A scene of frozen progress and frozen ideas. Frozen aspirations and inspirations. They call the season “winter.” We call the song “Winter in America.”
The song is followed by another monologue that’s a little lighter and funnier:
People say to me, “Gil, we cannot find your records.” I say, “Go to your record store. Go down to the left. Take a turn, go to the right. Look on the bottom shelf. You will find a box called ‘Miscellaneous.’ We are miscellaneous. We did not mean to be miscellaneous. Somehow it happened.”
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