Yes- get away from almost omnipresent screens!
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Sounds very sad- reminds me of Italo Svevo whom I read so long ago!
Dating originally from 1947, The Dry Heart is one of Natalia Ginzburg’s earliest and most striking novellas. Slim, precise and utterly haunting, it tells the story of an unhappy marriage; in fact, in many respects, the marriage appears to be a mismatch from the very start…
The story opens with a death when our unnamed narrator, a married woman in her mid-twenties, shoots her husband, Alberto, between the eyes, leaving him for dead.
‘Tell me the truth,’ I said.
‘What truth?’ he echoed. He was making a rapid sketch in his notebook and now he showed me what it was: a long, long train with a big cloud of black smoke swirling over it and himself leaning out of a window to wave a handkerchief.
I shot him between the eyes. (p. 1)
Having failed to elicit the truth from her husband, the woman goes out to a café where…
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Sounds very much like ” they also serve who simply stand and watch”. Intriguing and thought provoking.
This is book number 6 of my 20 books of summer, and it is a really wonderful book, published this year. It is part memoir and part guide to art appreciation, written by Patrick Bringley, who spent a decade working as a guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.
Bringley had been a successful student, and was on his way to launching the glittering New York journalistic career that seemed his for the taking when his brother became seriously ill with cancer, dying tragically young. Broken after his brother’s early death, Bringley sought a refuge, and space to reflect or just to switch off his thoughts, and he found just that inside the timeless rooms of the Met.
But the book is not primarily a grief memoir. It is interesting in so many ways: Bringley is a warm and erudite guide to the art works themselves, and…
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Painting on two wheels
A nice atmosphere conveyed here- a seemingly gentler time!
This weekend, the Tour de France is in the midst of its mountain stages in the Alps. To mark that, this article looks all too briefly at paintings of cycling.
Bicycles and cycling started to catch on in the middle of the nineteenth century, and by 1868 cyclists were racing against one another in parks in Paris.
Édouard Manet (1832–1883), Le Vélocipédiste (The Cyclist) (1871), oil on canvas, 53 × 20 cm, Private collection. Wikimedia Commons. Wikimedia Commons.
Manet’s remarkably early oil sketch Le Vélocipédiste (The Cyclist) from 1871 is probably the first depiction of a cycle by a major painter. Others like Robert Alott followed, still on their ‘penny farthings’ On the Beach at Ostende (1888), below.
Robert Alott (1859–1910), On the Beach at Ostende (1888), oil on panel, 26 x 53 cm, Private collection. Wikimedia Commons.
Alexey Korzukhin (1835-1894) Petrushka Goes! (1888), oil on canvas, dimensions not known…
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The Scottish Colourists
Very lovely!
Each Scottish Colourist had his own set of specific goals and aims, but between them the four also shared much common ground. They were all born in Scotland in the 1870s to middle class families, and at various different times each visited France to experience the burgeoning avant-garde first hand, returning to Scotland brimming with new ideas. Influences came from Manet, the Impressionists, Cezanne, Matisse and the Fauves, with the Colourists exploring modulations of light, shade and atmospheric effects, often through painting en plein air.
READ FULL ESSAY: National Gallery Scotland
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Tag: Samuel Peploe At Sunnyside
Tag: Scottish Colourists At Sunnyside
Samuel John Peploe at National Gallery Scotland
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Samuel John Peploe at wikiwand
Thanks for Visiting 🙂
~Sunnyside
This Painting
Orphan Girl at the Cemetery at The Louvre
Orphan Girl at the Cemetery at wikiwand
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Eugène Delacroix- Virtual Tour
Eugene Delacroix at The Art Story
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Tag: Eugene Delacroix At Sunnyside
Eugene Delacroix at The Louvre
Thanks for Visiting 🙂
~Sunnyside
Interesting point about the need for narratives, an idea which interested Diderot I believe. Dulwich Library used to be in Lordship Lane where I discovered a fascinating book on W.H.Auden.
Translated by Emily and Fleur Jeremiah
Inspired by Phyllis Rose’s The Shelf, I’ve been borrowing books at random from the first shelf of fiction in Dulwich Library, comprising books between ABU and AHE. I was hoping this might help to liberate me a bit from book reviews and canonical lists (I say ‘a bit’ because I’m still working my way through Peter Boxall’s 1001 books… list, and still reserving and ordering books from the library and Amazon based on mainstream book reviews).
Selja Ahava’s Things that Fall from the Sky, then, was a book I would never have come across in the normal course of events: I had heard neither of her (though she is a well-loved author in Finland), nor of the title. Published in Finnish in 2015, it was published in English in 2019 by OneWorld, longlisted for the 2021 Dublin Literary Award and was the…
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Somehow reminds me of Les Murray “On Home Beaches” with a word or two from a poet from an altogether different clime, John Betjeman!
Last Friday my wonderful wife Jenny helped me celebrate my birthday in Tulsa with an approximation of beachy Californian living by summoning a small group of friends to our neighborhood tiki bar, the Saturn Room. Squinting (as I did in the photo above), I almost felt I was back at the Tiki-Ti on Sunset Boulevard. It was the best of sloshy bashes; even Oklahoma’s sky pitched in with a cocktail-colored rainbow.
Actually, we were marking two special occasions, my birthday and the cover reveal of Jenny’s utterly original new novel, The Extinction of Irena Ray. Jenny is a forest person, and the painting by Inka Essenhigh ton the front ofThe Extinction really captures that aspect of her personality.
As for me, I’m all about the sea, so indulge me as I sink into another lighthearted Angeleno poem by Vernon Duke.
Santa Monica Beach
How nice to bask…
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Has a gentle warmth!
Poem:
I want to get lost in a summer’s day where I send my worries away on a breeze in moments infinitely fleeting they touch you so gently leaving before you can catch your breath again it’s in those moments that you find me and I smile as little fragments of us dance through my heartbeat and the memories remain upon my skin
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