Alexandersmap

    Category: Art

    • What’s a More Soulful Way to Live?

      “What’s a more soulful way to live?  What’s a way that I can benefit from the dynamism and prosperity of American society without having to play by these rules that keep us in a holding pattern?” – Rolf Potts, from his Deviate podcast

      Leave it to Rolf Potts to ask the question.  The question that drives much of what I write about, and seek in travel and reading and gardening and hiking and in lingering solitude in the early light of dawn and the spaces in between notes and in the eyes of kindred spirits.  What’s a more soulful way to live?  And this is the path I live my life on.  Travel might not be as readily available in this moment, but it will return in time.  In the meantime there’s this living thing to do, and why not make it a dance instead of a holding pattern?

       The world is alive around us. I see it in the trees as the wind swirls the leaves and branches bounce in delightful prances. In the leaves and flower buds earnestly unfolding and reaching for the light. I hear it in the birdsong and buzz of pollinators and I feel it in the dampness of the earth after a night of rain. And we are alive as well, at least for now. Shouldn’t we dance while the music’s still playing?

      I’m very good at creating to-do lists. Projects to complete, places to go, bucket lists of experiences and other such compilations. The question, what’s a more soulful way to live? is a useful lens for planning the future, but I find it as valuable as an earnest sounding board for the moment. How do I highlight this moment in time soulfully? How do I fill my remaining days with a more soulful life? Both questions have value. Life is best lived in the moment, but with a realistic eye on where you’ll be tomorrow, should it arrive.

      Collectively it feels like we’re all in a holding pattern, but that doesn’t mean we can’t live more deeply. Thoreau showed you don’t have to travel far to explore soulfully. And so it is that the trees dance, the dappled light sparkles on lingering droplets and the world wakes up around me. I find myself a witness in the moment but also a willing participant, alive and grateful for the opportunity at hand.

    • Life, Intensified

      “The purpose of art is not a rarified, intellectual distillate—it is life, intensified, brilliant life. – Alain Arias-Misson

      I stepped into the deep end early this morning, plunging straight down to touch the bottom and felt my body slowly rise with thousands of bubbles tickling my skin as we all escaped to the surface together. I slowly rolled over as we reached our destination and looked at the blueness of the sky broken by the oak leaves that were finally, grudgingly waking up to Spring to join the maples in leafing out. The sunlight streamed through them all, coaxing them awake to dance with the light. Of all my morning routines, the plunge is the one I love the most. When you live in the north you think about these moments in the frozen months. You welcome them back with ecstasy in Spring and reluctantly return them to memory in Autumn. These are the moments when the world disappears and you feel most alive.

      I write to wring out these moments of aliveness and capture them in words. To dance with the light and rise above the depths of routine. And I seek out co-conspirators, searching for the vibrancy of fellow light dancers betrayed by subtle actions and a twinkle in the eye. If art intensifies the brilliance of life, the like-minded amplify it and coax you to do more, just as the sunlight draws out those oak leaves. And when you can’t always find them in the wild, you might read their words or see their art and know you aren’t the only one. We all rise together, like a chorus or a thousand bubbles swirling from the depths to break the welcoming surface once again.

    • More Art

      “If beautiful art does not express moral ideas, ideas which unite people, then it is not art, but only entertainment. People need to be entertained in order to distance themselves from disappointment in their lives. ” – Immanuel Kant

      A nod to Tolstoy for this quote…

      Sometimes you see the truth immediately in a piece of art, in a poem, in a paragraph or a scene. Something that transcends. Something that lifts, prods, pulls you. Art speaks, if we listen. I can remove the word “art” and insert “nature” or “spirituality” or maybe even “love” in that sentence and it resonates the same. Art is all of those things, and all those things in turn are art.

      I’ve learned to say no. No to television news. No (but thank you anyway) to Facebook. No to most entertainment, not because I don’t like to be entertained, but because I want to think. You can’t meditate on the world with a laugh track playing. No isn’t a rejection of the world, it’s an acceptance of more essential things.

      Does that make me boring? Perhaps to someone seeking only entertainment. Then again, I have a lot more to say than I once did. I’m moving towards art, towards uniting people, towards the essential truth in life. Perhaps I’ll find it, but I’m already better for seeking it.

    • Day Tripping With the Beatles

      When you grow up a Beatles fan you learn all the names. Not John, Paul, George and Ringo (that goes without saying), but Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields and The Cavern Club and Elenor Rigby and all the rest. Those names are in Liverpool. And that’s where I found myself yesterday.

      Some people go to Disney World for their dreams to come true. I have a hard time wrapping my head around that. But walking in the footsteps of those who came before? Standing in a spot where a legend was literally born? Yes, please. And Liverpool delivers.

      There’s much more to this city than The Beatles, and I’d love to write about my experiences with all of the museums and exploring the waterfront more. But we had a seven hour window to work with, and a lifetime of assumptions to work through. So it was all about The Fab Four on this trip. If I were to go again, and I hope I do, I’d stay for at least a long weekend for a more immersive Liverpool experience. There’s just so much to see you’ll need the time.

      If you’re a Beatles fan with limited time, I’d recommend the itinerary we created on the fly. Go to The Beatles Story for an immersive self-paced walk through the lives of John, Paul, George and Ringo (that’s the accepted order of names, it messes up everything to jumble them). Wear the headsets and listen to the stories and music, it’s a great launching point for a day with The Beatles.

      Right down the street is the boarding spot for the Magical Mystery Tour, a fabulously fun tour on a bright yellow coach bus. Highly informative stories about what you’re seeing or, importantly, about to see sprinkled with Beatles songs that had many on the bus singing along. That “about to see” part is key, because when driving up a street it’s helpful to know what to look for. Our guide was excellent and prepped us for the turn onto Penny Lane and the drive-by of Elenor Rigby’s grave so we were collectively ready for the moment. Just enough stops for pictures along the way to satiate the Beatles fan checklist without losing momentum. I’ve done a few bus tours in my day, most do the job of informing on the fly well, some not so well. This one is exceptional.

      The tour ended down the street from The Cavern Club, and included a ticket to get in. Perfect way to end the day? Not so fast; there was still one more thing to do before the sun set. My daughter and I walked briskly down to the waterfront for a picture with Ringo, Paul, George and John (See? Doesn’t flow the same). Liverpool is well aware of the positive contribution their four lads have made on the city and erected statues of each of them together looking west. There are other statues of them individually sprinkled in the city but I’m partial to the band together.

      To cap off a Fab day we made our way back to The Cavern Club, deep down several the flights of stairs to the place where they took off. And this place didn’t disappoint. Great music playing on that stage we all know. The arched Cavern walls enclose you, immersive and reflective all at once. You’re literally there, wrapped up in that place you would see in black and white images, now a living monument to the past and a vibrant and exciting bar. The Cavern Club has a pulse, and it’s strong. I had no idea this place deep underground would be the highlight of my day, but it surely was. I’d go again any time at all.

    • The Blackfriar

      The people flood the sidewalks, drinking pints of ale, talking and laughing in clusters. Inside, the bar is jammed as well, but it’s mostly people having drinks on a Friday night. This is London, after all, and they know how to properly end a work week. But the tables are largely open at 7 PM; our timing was good. They fill soon after.

      It was a good time to take a break. Five miles of cobblestones and stairs weren’t kind to the seniors in our group, and the last mile across the Millennium Bridge to The Blackfriar was especially challenging. Travel let’s you explore the world and your limitations all at once. When you travel alone that’s the story. When you travel with others your story changes with the dynamics of the group. And you either roll with it or you chafe.

      The Blackfriar describes itself as a “traditional pub with Henry Poole’s Art Nouveau reliefs reflecting the friary that once stood there.” Good fish & chips and meat pies, especially after miles of walking. Those reliefs are fascinating to look at, especially with pint of ale or a glass or two of their excellent gin and tonic selection. I could have stayed all night.

    • Queen Victoria and the Prince

      Kensington Palace… interesting place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. Too much museum, not enough home for my tastes, but then, I’m not exactly touring the private quarters of the Royal Family, am I? But there’s humanity there at the Palace, and like many I found myself drawn to the life of one previous resident.

      I’ve always had an image of Queen Victoria dressed in black, in her senior years, but Kensington Palace shows you the entire life of Victoria, which offers remarkable new perspective. Standing in the room she was born in offers perspective. As does seeing her children’s rooms. Focus on the jewels if you will, stunning as they are. But nothing jolted me like seeing the seductive young Victoria in a self-commissioned painting for her true love, Prince Albert. This Victoria would have loved iPhones and selfies, I think, if only for the fun they might have brought to her time with Albert.

      They have a wonderful quote from Victoria describing her attractive Prince, and this marvelous line she used to convey what she was feeling: “My heart is quite going.” Alas, true love doesn’t last forever, and Queen Victoria is later quoted after the passing of Prince Albert, “Who will ever call me Victoria now?” And with that you can feel her grief through the decades. Who doesn’t read that and grieve with her?

      Kensington Palace is full of human stories like this. Mary, Victoria, Diana, Kate; I understand the fascination some people have with the Royal Family, though I confess I don’t share the same… enthusiasm. I’d rather live my own life, thank you. But in young Victoria I found a connection.

    • Edgy in Satire: Edith Lunt Small

      There’s a painting in the long hallway at Richardson’s Canal House that you can get lost in for hours. The artist was Edith Lunt Small, who passed away in 2017, 38 years after creating this fanciful world on canvas. Edith lives on in the painting, portraying herself as a skinny-dipping artist swimming in the Erie Canal in 1825. As the self-portrait indicates, there’s a lot of whimsy in her work, and I enjoyed spending a few minutes with this one.

      Art is meant to be enjoyed, and I found myself smiling at the little details she dropped into this painting, commissioned for Richardson’s Canal House. 1825 Bushnell’s Basin in Small’s world was raucous fun, and I imagine the artist was too. Her son called her work edgy in satire in his eulogy, and based on this one, I see what he means. I was happy to get a glimpse into the spirit that was Edith Lunt Small. These close-ups offer a small glimpse for you as well. This was an artist who clearly loved life!

    • A Handshake with Norman Rockwell

      I always make a point of grabbing the newel post and sliding up my hand on the stair railing when visiting the homes of artists, writers and historical figures.  I’ve written about doing this at Ernest Hemingway’s Key West house, at Mark Twain’s Hartford, Connecticut house, and at Robert Frost’s farmhouse in Derry, New Hampshire.  I had the opportunity to do it again when visiting the Norman Rockwell Studio in Sturbridge, Massachusetts recently.  This to me is a handshake with those who came before, and I feel it most profoundly when I visit the places like these where the giants of the past did their greatest work.

      If you live in America you know Norman Rockwell.  His paintings and sketches are more widely known than any other artist in the 20th century, thanks in large part to his work with The Saturday Evening Post during some of the most significant milestones of that century.  Rockwell was capturing the very human moments everyone felt during the Great Depression, World War’s I and II, the Kennedy Assassination, etc.  The museum carries you through his work and is worth a visit.  I’ve driven by it for decades before finally stopping by for an hour while driving home from New York.  Seeing his paintings doesn’t give me the same feeling as seeing Aivazovsky’s The Ninth Wave did, but that’s largely because there’s a humbleness to Rockwell’s work that doesn’t inspire awe as much as appreciation for the incredible detail he put into his work.

      There’s a story of the painting Country Doctor, which when published on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post inspired letters from people asking about the woman in the photograph on the doctor’s desk.  It seemed she looked like a nurse that had treated patients in England during World War II, and a soldier wrote to ask if she was in fact the same woman….  and was.  Such was the detail in Rockwell’s paintings that a random detail in a larger work, shrunk down for the cover of a magazine, sparked recognition. Rockwell apparently made his subjects, mostly his neighbor’s in the Berkshires, laugh while painting, and there’s joy in most of his work.

      I appreciate art, and linger in the museum longer than I should have on my trip home, but for me standing in the space where Rockwell created that art was more impactful. That space is his studio, moved four miles from downtown Stockbridge to a hill overlooking the Housatonic River and the Berkshires in 1976. Rockwell gifted the studio to the Norman Rockwell Museum, and the studio is set up as it would have been in 1961 when Rockwell was painting Golden Rule, which seems appropriate for an artist who’s work reflected that rule. The space is largely the same, if transported from its original foundation in the heart of Stockbridge. The staircase to the loft is roped off, but the newel post and railing are in reach, like a handshake with Norman. And that sums up his art; within reach of everyone. Simple but complex, and beloved, like the artist himself.

    • Dancing after the Dragons

      “How could we be capable of forgetting the old myths that stand at the threshold of all mankind, myths of dragons transforming themselves at the last moment into princesses?  Perhaps all dragons in our lives are really princesses just waiting to see us just once being beautiful and courageous.  Perhaps everything fearful is basically helplessness that seeks our help.” – Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

      The Ninth Wave is a painting by Ivan Aivazovsky on display at the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russia.  I stood in front of it 30 years ago and it stays with me still.  There are two paintings from that visit that keep coming back to mind, the other being Henri Matisse’s The Dance.  Both are stunning when you stand in front of them and immerse yourself in them.  Google both and look at the images that come up, and you’ll see a wide range of colors, from vibrant primary to muted mixed colors.  There’s nothing like seeing each in person, where it literally washes right over you and you swim and dance with the subjects in the paintings.

      I’ve got a bucket list of art and architecture that I hope to see in my lifetime.  I only have to reconcile the images I see in a book or online to know that there’s nothing like seeing the real thing.  Travel gives you that gift.  And more than seeing The Ninth Wave or The Dance in my mind, I see the entire picture of that time.  Babushkas sternly looking at college kids to make sure we weren’t taking flash photography or crossing past the ropes.  Black market traders trying to swap blue jeans for assorted USSR military stuff.  Seeing Cuban soldiers for the first time when we visited the Aurora (As a Cold War kid being in the Soviet Union and seeing Cuban soldiers was heady stuff).  Such is the richness of world travel; Seeing the world as it is and not some portrayal on a screen.

      I may never get back to St. Petersburg, but I would surely go to the Hermitage again and re-visit these two masterpieces.  I’ve changed quite a lot in 30 years, and so has St. Petersburg and Russia.  When I visited I was a college kid visiting a city with a different name in a country with a different name at the height of Glasnost, which would inevitably wipe Leningrad and the USSR names off the maps in favor of what once was and is again.  The enormity of the changes we’ve seen in the last 30 years cannot be understated.  And we’re in the middle of massive change still.  What will the next 30 years bring?  I hope I’m around to report on it.

      The image of that dragon in Rilke’s quote above brought to my mind The Ninth Wave.  This is the moment when the subjects in the painting are either driven to their deaths under the sea or they find salvation. Aivazovsky leaves it for us to interpret how it ends.  The optimist in me sees the brightening sky shining light through the wave.    Have the courage to hold on just a bit longer and things will get better.  Rise to the challenges of the moment and turn that dragon into a princess.  30 years ago it was Glasnost and Tiananmen Square.  Today it’s Climate Change, the rise of political extremism and the Hong Kong protests.  Is this the Ninth Wave?

      The optimist in me sees a positive future, and eventually the scarcity mentality that leads to extremism and greed giving way to a better world.  The report that showed the dramatic decrease in child mortality is a good example of how the world is getting better.  I’m well aware of the dragons in this world, and a little light shining through the storm clouds doesn’t mean the wave isn’t going to crash down on you.  But I see the joyful dancers of Mattise waiting for us if we can only have the courage to find the princess and join in.  What will we do to get us there?