The morning is paradisical. Even if that is a made-up word… There are no words for adequate description of a fine mid-summer’s morning. My good fortune is to be aware, to engage with my senses the warmth of light streaming from the sun, illuminating the streets, sidewalk, the backdrop bed of black eyed susans…
A sultry Sunday afternoon, and here I am at Starbucks, moving words on this screen, like pieces on a chessboard. Yesterday evening was spent at Henry Maier Festival Park, Milwaukee for Summerfest. Summerfest bills itself as the worlds largest music festival. As a marketing ploy, I suppose the outsized claim works. The site is…
It has been argued in detail, by Guy Debord that the 20th century West is a Society of the Spectacle. There is little doubt that the information received by the eye, vision, has always been a pivot point for finding food and shelter necessary to life, and for self preservation. The rabbits that come…
Do you ever wonder at the path you’ve taken? What has lead you to take this way? I do. Several days ago tending the lilies planted at the edge of the yard, I admired again the small statue of the female Buddha placed as background to the colorful lilies. The statue is the image…
A friend offered comment highlighting the tribal aspect of the sport of drag racing. There’s no debate about the machismo inscribed in the passion for automobiles designed and constructed as a competition weapon. Also race cars are a symbol of a concrete alliance of a owner and crew members — a long term commitment…
We are discontinuous beings, individuals who perish in the midst of an incomprehensible adventure, but we yearn, for our lost continuity. Continuity is what we are after… -excerpt introduction to Eroticism by Georges Bataille, trans. by Mary Dalwood This tune will be our lifeline, enough to hold onto for this part of the journey….
Voyages V by Hart Crane Meticulous, past midnight in clear rime,Infrangible and lonely, smooth as though castTogether in one merciless white blade—The bay estuaries fleck the hard sky limits. —As if too brittle or too clear to touch!The cables of our sleep so swiftly filed,Already hang, shred ends from remembered stars.One frozen trackless smile……
Saturday morning and Starbucks is abuzz. Yesterday afternoon we attended an open house to celebrate the graduation of my wife’s brother’s son’s daughter from high school. The graduate was radiant as she greeted well wishers just inside the foyer of the great room. We were not sure who would be present at the event. …
Surrealism lies at the heart of the photographic enterprise: in the very creation of a duplicate world, or a reality in the second degree, narrower but more dramatic than one perceived by natural vision. The less doctored, the less patiently crafted, the more naïve – the more authoritative the photograph is likely to be….
The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters is simplicity. Nothing is better than simplicity… nothing can make up for excess or for the lack of definiteness. To carry on the heave of impulse and to pierce intellectual depths and give all subjects their articulations are…
