rigorousintuition.ca

Invisible Fish
Joy Harjo

Invisible fish swim this ghost ocean now described by waves of sand, by water-worn rock.
Soon the fish will learn to walk.
Then humans will come ashore and paint dreams on the dying stone.
Then later, much later, the ocean floor will be punctuated by Chevy trucks, carrying the dreamers' descendants, who are going to the store.

More Albert Pinkham Ryder.........I worked for several years near the Phillips Collection in Washington, when it was still a smaller more intimate gallery, before its lavish restoration. I often spent lunch hours there. Of all the beautiful and famous paintings, the ones I remember being most drawn to were the small canvases by Ryder. He liberally layered paint and varnish on still wet surfaces and they're so full of cracks some even disintegrated. But the flaws made the paintings seem other-worldly and almost volcanic, like their fissures were about to erupt and spill out; they add to the paintings' haunting beauty, imho.



Ryder's tiny poetic painting 'Dead Bird':

The flower that follows the sun does so even on cloudy days.
Robert Leighton





Hanshan
“How wonderful is Cold Mountain
Climbers are all afraid
The moon shines on clear water twinkle twinkle
Wind rustles the tall grass
Plum trees flower in the snow
Bare twisted trees have clouds for foliage
A touch of rain brings it all alive
Unless you see clearly do not approach”
―Hanshan

Don’t you know the poems of Han-shan?

They’re better for you than scripture-reading.

Cut them out and paste them on a screen,

Then you can gaze at them from time to time.

Amongst White Clouds

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OKfl7SQOSPA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pllRW9wETzw

This is a beautiful thread.

^^^

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Loq95zsixBk

"An Irish Airman Foresees His Death"

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

- William Butler Yeats

I await joyous surprises while working, an awakening of the materials that I work with and that my spirit develops.
~ Odilon Redon ~

~ Odilon Redon ~