Birds seem to have a single emotion...joy. The pitch and clarity of their songs, the robins, towhees, thrushes. The twittering and tapping of the red-headed sapsucker pair that poke patterns into the Siberian elm outside my window. Back to work now that their babies have flown. All except crows, who gather on wires, on a branch of the walnut, buzz, click, complain, scold. Squawk. Lift up and pass over the neighbourhood with a steady flap I can hear, a whir as air sifts through their jet feathers. My favourite sound is the one I can mimic by tapping the tip of my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
On a recent Sunday Edition, the director of the Ontario Art Gallery talked about abstract expressionism, the influence of the first atomic bomb on artistic thought. Pollack, his presence in the work, the relation between the canvas and the artist's body. From static to kinetic. Hmm. Television came along around then too.
I had recently seen the surrealist show at the VAG, on a night when three young composers presented new work somewhat inspired by the surrealists.To me it seems that the surrealists were imaginative in a more hopeful, glorious way. Did the bomb destroy hope? Or did the a-e's feel that their work had to be more immediate than reflective?
Calla lilies to look at each day!
Annie Dillard: the writing that so thrills and exhilarates you, as if you were dancing right next to the band, is barely audible to anyone else.
C'est vrai.
My new one act, have to find the basting stitch and pull it together. Ceiling... You Again... Unspecified Perils. It is harder to find a publisher and near impossible to get a production. Imperfect has been put on three times. As often at this point I feel a little sadness. The new work is not finished... not what it could be, I think; but my sense of urgency has been dulled a bit by time, my chronically sore shoulder and arm, and experience. Resolve continues to be tested each day. This is what I do, how I occupy myself. Take a break, get a clear handle on what I'm doing with the comedy, try to somehow interest someone in it. It has been fun to write. I say to David, no wonder you like writing comedy. To laugh as you write!
On a recent Sunday Edition, the director of the Ontario Art Gallery talked about abstract expressionism, the influence of the first atomic bomb on artistic thought. Pollack, his presence in the work, the relation between the canvas and the artist's body. From static to kinetic. Hmm. Television came along around then too.
I had recently seen the surrealist show at the VAG, on a night when three young composers presented new work somewhat inspired by the surrealists.To me it seems that the surrealists were imaginative in a more hopeful, glorious way. Did the bomb destroy hope? Or did the a-e's feel that their work had to be more immediate than reflective?
Calla lilies to look at each day!
Annie Dillard: the writing that so thrills and exhilarates you, as if you were dancing right next to the band, is barely audible to anyone else.
C'est vrai.
My new one act, have to find the basting stitch and pull it together. Ceiling... You Again... Unspecified Perils. It is harder to find a publisher and near impossible to get a production. Imperfect has been put on three times. As often at this point I feel a little sadness. The new work is not finished... not what it could be, I think; but my sense of urgency has been dulled a bit by time, my chronically sore shoulder and arm, and experience. Resolve continues to be tested each day. This is what I do, how I occupy myself. Take a break, get a clear handle on what I'm doing with the comedy, try to somehow interest someone in it. It has been fun to write. I say to David, no wonder you like writing comedy. To laugh as you write!