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Building the foundation…

By on September 30, 2012 in beauty, craft, darkroom work, skill and craft, working

We all begin somewhere.  If one wishes to build fine furniture, knowledge of the tools, types of wood, adhesives, joinery, stains and finishes must be mastered first.  This begins with an apprenticeship, since the novice knows nothing except the novel desire to see a project through.  ‘The right tool for the right job’ is not an idle cliché.   This applies to the studio arts as well.  When I began my painting classes last spring I knew little of this craft and had very limited skills.  All I knew was what I would like to portray, not how to accomplish it.  I had to ask for help.  I asked my teachers, since that is what they were for.  I asked fellow students who were more able than myself, for that is part of their role as well.  The great leap is that I took their advice and my work improved.  I also do this with my photography.  I ask for help and take the advice.  There are many ways to do this.  I go to the Kodak webpage for help with start times and other technical details, for example.  I ask those who have come before “How did you do this…?”

And so my foundation is built of sturdy stuff–strong mortar, supportive materials, able to carry the larger structure that becomes the rooms, halls and stairways of this artistic domicile.  There is more to the photography than that, however.  My skills and craft are broadened by reading Homer, or T.S. Eliot.  I get ideas from looking at the sculpture of Canova and Bernini and the paintings from a diverse world of museums and galleries.  I soak in the experience of waiting at the bus station in Ravenna in the rain.  By writing about these things I synthesize what I know into something else, perhaps not new to the untrained eye, but certainly original, if only in small ways.

The foundation–my foundation–is greater than the sum of its parts, yet contains all that I have seen and heard.  I become my work and in doing so my work defines part of my being, part of my ‘self’ and grants a sense of community.  More about this later…

JDCM

 

The hustle and bustle of an island evening…

By on September 28, 2012 in autumn, craft, darkroom work, Paros, skill and craft

At last, I am back on Paros.  Italy was lovely, inspiring and worth every second, but as the Aegean flight arced around to land in Athens I breathed a sigh of joy–back in Greece at last!

I have spent the last two days assisting the staff in opening up the school.  I have been sweeping, vacuuming and mopping the darkroom, washing out trays and I have made a fresh batch of Fix.  I will wait to make the other chemistry until Sunday or even Monday.  I have printed out a fresh batch of darkroom schedule sheets and straightened out the desk area for ease of use.  The restroom is well-supplied and I have made sure the window is light-tight.  Kala!  Polikala!

The rest of the students arrive tomorrow from their 3-day visit to Athens and from what I have heard they have had a wonderful time in that ancient and complex city, so different from Rome, Florence and Pistoia.  They will be excited to see the island, I am sure.  I know that I was, and still am, to be honest.  There is nothing like the adventure of sea travel and being able to say, “land ho!”, if only in you heart.

It was a huge relief to unpack my bags and put away my belongings.  I was growing tired of living out of my suitcase, so to speak.  As much as I adore travel, there is nothing quite so satisfying as coming home.  I guess I cannot say much more than that.  The weather is lovely and when I haven’t been working at the school, doing laundry or putting away my travel gear I have spent some time at the beach and swimming.  The water is perfect and the weather has been hot but not the unbearable oven that was August.  I have no food in my flat so I still have to go shopping but that lack of food at home has been a good excuse for eating out.   I have missed Greek food.  Yes, the Italians have some good grub, known the world over, but they seem to have missed out on something that Greece excels at.  I haven’t been able to put my finger on it, but there is a soul-fulfilling aspect to Greek food.  Maybe it’s just me.  Maybe it’s my soul.  Maybe I have been here before.  Maybe I have never left.

Tonight the neighborhood around Mikro Cafe is bustling with early evening energy.  Families out for a stroll, conversations on the doorsteps, and fundraising bazaars full of eager shoppers.   What a place I have found!  Not that this path hasn’t been walked before, but it feels right to me.

JDCM

 

 

Ghosts in the Eternal City…

By on September 24, 2012 in autumn, craft, silver darkroom, skill and craft, working

Rome.  As one friend called it, a palimpsest.  Echoes upon shades of history, currently covered with a veneer, like a carapace, of the modern age.  Here I am and I am not sure what I am doing.  I laid in bed last night, tossing and turning, the rusty wheels in my head grinding their chipped cogs, trying to make sense of it all.  I am surprised no one else heard the clanking din.  I finally slept around 04:30.

I exist in a grey area.  I have been here at the Aegean Center for over two years and this is my fifth session.  I have been designated a ‘working intern’.  I am not sure what this means but I know how it feels.  I fall somewhere in-between the students, who are much younger than I, and the faculty, of which I am not.  I wander this middle path feeling at times like a ghost, a shade in the midst of the group.  A good friend reminded me that perhaps I am inside an egg, dark and muffled.  If so, let’s get this hatching over with, please.

“To thine own self be true”  can be applied to my current state.  I can keep my own counsel, play my cards close to my chest but when push comes to shove I have to be able to find the right people to speak to about my thinking.  This I will do.  Last spring I was honest about my feelings and for that I have lost a dear friend forever.  If I could change the past I would (who wouldn’t, really?) but the fact remains that I opened up my heart and welcomed vulnerability.  I am paying the price for this.  I wish I could just blow it off, be less sensitive, think of these things in a more superficial way.  I guess it is to my credit that I have depth and feelings but I envy those who can just shrug off life’s little tragedies like so many random raindrops.

There are few who I could go to and receive the direction I need.  Thankfully I have some friends here in Rome who can help me out in ways that most people around me will never understand.  I will see them tonight. We will laugh at our pains as we discard our phantasmagoric vestments for a time.  Ghosts no more, our temporal selves will reveal the human frailties and shortcomings normal for our kind.  As we disperse, we will blend back in to the mix, walking the middle grey again, another layer, more echoes, a faint outline resembling…

JDCM

white, middle grey (18%), and black

 

Something caught my eye and holds it still…

By on September 14, 2012 in autumn, craft, skill and craft, Uncategorized

Standing outside having coffee on this autumn afternoon I am reminded of the passage of time.  Looking south from here, across the valley of Pistoia and over the hills, I see a landscape that Gentile Da Fabriano could have used for his painting ‘Rest during the flight into Egypt’, the small panel beneath his much more elaborate and ground-breaking altar piece ‘Adoration of the Magi.’  Some art historians consider this small piece, the second of three, to be the first example of a painted landscape.  The rolling hills contain cast shadows, much like those my eyes trace here on the distant foothills of the Apennines.  There are strips of clouds, adding depth to not only Da Fabriano’s pigmented tempera but my own 21st century view.  Far away from Mary and Joseph, a small city sits on a hill, the gravely road winding its way towards their safe haven from Herod’s swords.  I can see a city from where I stand: Pistoia’s duomo and campanile rise up from the more modern town.  Olive groves and fruit trees are illuminated in this clear, crisp sunlight, the wind blowing their leaves, and I imagine the circumstances must have been cold and fraught with peril for the small family, colder still for the elderly Joseph leading them and the small baby held in the arms of a young mother.   The two servants walk behind them, perhaps gathering fruit from the apple trees at the bottom of the hill.  The landscape opens up on each side.  Such perspective and such drama for such a tiny piece of wood and paint.

This piece fills me with such love for humanity.  Every time I see it I am struck by the depth of the color and the size of the panel.  At only 32 x110 cm Da Fabriano has told an entire story.  It portrays such a human condition and the cast of players seem so common: an old man, his young wife, their baby, two assistants and a donkey.  Would we have paid any attention had it not been the Son of God?

JDCM

 

‘Rest during the flight into Egypt’, Gentile Da Fabriano

Venice, Vivaldi, good food and some of my reality…

By on September 13, 2012 in skill and craft, Uncategorized

I have heard some lovely music in the past two nights, mostly Vivaldi, and all performed by the Interpreti Veneziani, the chamber music organization that performs almost every night here in this ancient and mysterious town.  Last night it was a series of four violin concertos and tonight, his well-known ‘The Four Seasons’.  I was able to attend last night’s performance with a friend who is also an expert on the subject and afterwards we compared notes.  I mentioned that I could hear musical references to Renaissance folk music running through Vivaldi’s Baroque style, like small threads of musical memory, and my friend agreed.  He then reminded me that much of the electricity that emanates from Vivaldi’s music can also be seen as a direct link to the Enlightenment, the era in which Vivaldi lived and composed much of his work.  Previous to Vivaldi’s time, the primary source for inspiration in many of life’s venues had been the church.  With the cultural onslaught of the Enlightenment came ideas such as life, liberty and the innate equality of all.  To think of that and then hear ‘Il Quattore Staggione’ tonight made me quite aware that during the composer’s era this piece must have shocked and amazed his audience, as it still does today.

Venice is lovely and I am lucky to be able to spend some time here although I came down with a brutal head cold that simply wiped me out.  I had to miss a tour of San Marco yesterday in favor of bed, fluids and medication but was able to make it to dinner and then the aforementioned concert.  Last night I ate at the restaurant adjacent to my hotel.  I had baccala with polenta and then pan-seared angler fish in a deconstructed puttanesca sauce.  Really nice.  Then the music.  Tonight it was bresaola salad followed by some branzino at a cafe in Campo di San Stefano.  Then more music.

On a more serious note, I have been aware for some time that many people feel that I take life too seriously, don’t smile enough and seem to not be as joyful as some.  For many years I lived a life…No, that’s not correct…I existed on a plane of desperation and pain driven by ego and hubris.  This trajectory brought me in line with situations and circumstances that can simply be described as ‘dark.’  I have played cards many times with Death and by some miracle have survived each hand.  So if my smile seems a bit strained sometimes it is only because I have tasted  much bile in my time.  My demeanor is that of the lucky few.  Contrary to popular belief, those who have courted death and have lived to tell the tale do not wave our hands about in glee nor do we shout at the top of our lungs our pyhrric victories, aping the latest Youtube sensation.  We sit somewhat stunned, grateful and quiet and remember from whence we came.  Life is serious business and should not be treated as a rehearsal.  You will forgive my not always laughing.

JDCM

angler fish with deconstructed puttanesca sauce

 

Florence, Pisa and lunch…

By on September 9, 2012 in autumn, beauty, craft, skill and craft

The fall session of the Aegean Center for the Fine Arts is going swimmingly.  The students are a lively and engaged group of 26, myself included.  So far we have made a couple of day trips to Florence and our adopted hometown of Pistoia and have just returned from a long day in Pisa.  In the past week have seen some of the most influential art and architecture in the past 2000 years and all of our minds are full of inspired ideas to take back to Paros in a few weeks.  For those of us who have already experienced the work environment of Greece, we are champing at the bit to get to work and let loose some of this pent-up energy.  The downside is that we still have almost three weeks left here in Italy. The upside is, of course, that we still have almost three weeks left here Italy.  In a couple of days we head to Venice for a two-night excursion and then back again.  Following that we still have trips to Siena, Florence and Rome.  Interspersed are days spent at the Villa Rospigliosi in classes (drawing, watercolor painting, vocal training, writing, and photography discussions), one-on-one conversations with mentors and, of course, the deep fellowship that comes with an enriching experience such as this.  What I am saying is that for all that we have seen and experienced, there is still a great deal ahead.

The food here at the Villa is very good, filling and the kind of food that brings us all joy and comfort when our tired bones rest for dinner after trekking about all day long.  It is not haute cuisine but rather the kind of food one’s grandmother (not mine, by the way…she could barely boil water) might prepare.  The other night some students and I were discussing “Italian food” and I noted that here we are in Italy, eating dinner.  Therefore we were having ‘Italian food”.  As someone who has been in the food business in a professional capacity and still retains most of what he learned, I have to admit that even back then, 12 years ago or so, I had become disenchanted by all the ‘specialness’ and ‘preciousness’ of the so-called cuisines that  popped up every time a new celebrity chef graced the television or newspapers.  What I most desired was simple food, food that I have already written about here and food that exists in the sense memories of many people I know.  We remember a warm house on a cold day, the aroma of fresh cookies wafting over us as we shake the snow from our boots; the primal experience of grilling over an open fire as the sun sets on a summer’s day; the joy of family and friends as we all gather for a holiday feast.  Regardless of season, these memories flood my thinking, driving away the cold efficiency of Nouvelle-this or Pan-American-that…Where was I?

Ah, yes…food. Florence, Pisa and lunch.

Yesterday I found a lovely little spot off the tourist track, yet in the middle of Florence.  Tired with the usual panini routine, I emptied my mind and wandered about.  I turned a couple of corners and happened upon ‘Pizzacheria Antonio Porrati’, in the Piazza Pier di Maggiore.  The area was tiny, with three tables inside, a glass case with myriad foods prepared that day, dried pasta on the shelves and a large cabinet of wine. The fellow behind the counter greeted me with a joyful ‘buongiorno!’  Out of the many choices I ordered some roast chicken and  fresh green beans chock full of garlic and olive oil.  Dee-lish!  I ate my lunch, chatted with the owners and then went to join the rest of the school for our tour of the Uffizi Museum.  Once again, home-cooking has struck again, with its simple, nourishing and friendly tastes.  Today was a similar experience.  Pisa began with a tour of the large Pisan Romanesque church, its famously skewed campanile, and the ornate baptistry, followed by a break.  Lunchtime beckoned and once again I wandered back streets, away from the madding crowd.  What initially drew me to ‘Trattoria della Faggiola’ was the sign tacked to the door that read ‘NO PIZZA’.  What a relief!  The menu included carpaccio di salmone so I sat in the nearly empty place and enjoyed a plate of thinly sliced raw salmon on a bed of baby arrugala and a mixed green salad.  The simplest food filled the most demanding hunger.   A few minutes later I was touring the Camposanto, a structure in a state of almost constant restoration since the bombing of Pisa in the 1940s by the Allies.  There has been a great deal of progress on the enormous frescoes even since last year and they look lovely.  Thank you Deane Keller…

Today we have classes here at the villa.  Lunch will be salads and leftovers from dinner last night.  Simple, nourishing food for hungry, working students and their teachers.  And tomorrow?  On to Venezia!  Andiamo!

JDCM

Emerson at the Villa Rospigliosi…

By on September 2, 2012 in autumn, beauty, Greece, Paros, skill and craft

I arrived in Pistoia Friday afternoon after a leisurely train ride through the Apennine Mountains from Faenza.  The day began with pouring rain in Ravenna which slowed and ended as I pulled into the Faenza station.  The remainder of the journey was shot with bright sun arcing through the kind of blue-grey clouds one only sees in high altitude geographies.  As we passed through Ronta, Borgo di San Lorenzo, Vaglia,  La Luna and other small towns I was struck how these mountain communities all have something in common.  Even Leadville, Colorado has a similar feel.  I hypothesize that it is the separateness of these communities from the larger populations.  Like islands, they exist on the trade routes of other city’s fortunes, whistle-stops along the way from one place to another.

As the iron rails wound downhill the landscape smoothed from sharp, stony teeth and spiked conifers to a rolling ruggedness covered with magnolias, plane trees and umbrella pines.  As I arrived in Firenze Santa Maria di Novella Stazione, I was struck by a memory from the early 1990s, the first time I pulled into this place, after an overnight ride from Luxembourg City.  The station hasn’t changed all that much and still ranks as one of my favorite train hubs. I can go anywhere from Florence, anywhere the compass points.

In his essay ‘Fate’, Emerson discusses education, the ability to teach and how at times we seem to be bound in a cycle of superstition.  He affirms his cynicism, with which I identify.  He writes,

“We are incompetent to solve the times.  Our geometry cannot span the huge orbits of the prevailing ideas, behold their return, and    reconcile their opposition.  We can only obey our own polarity. ‘Tis fine for us to speculate and elect our course, if we must accept an irresistible dictation.”

If Emerson sounds cynical, then perhaps he is.  Despite the open-minded nature and the spiritual axioms of the transcendentalists, I have found through my readings that Emerson was a realist and when, let us say, confronted by an unmovable obstacle, he would accept this as fact and walk away.  He talks of this reality in the above-quoted text.  People can learn only when they are willing to learn and only what they want.  If I remain open to all of the sights and sounds around me then I can learn more from the whole of the map than I would if I were to concentrate on one small area.  If, for example, I had disembarked at Borgo di San Lorenzo last Friday instead of taking the whole journey to Firenze, then my Weltanschauung would have consisted of less than what I am currently willing to entertain. As beautiful as the scenery is in that small town, it is not the entire world, nor my entire experience.  I have to be willing to be taught, to stay on the train if need be.  That is not to say that cannot jump off and get on as my heart demands.  I just have to remind myself that there is more to see down the line.

And so Emerson arrives at the Villa Rospigliosi, hands behind his back, ruminating in his clear New England voice.  I imagine he would have liked this place, with its running fountain, olive groves, and roses.  He would have enjoyed meeting the students and faculty of the Aegean Center.  Like him we are here on a small island of thought, day-tripping to other stops along the line.  I must not forget the larger map, the grander cartography, for even if I cannot see it at times it is there, as big as life.

JDCM

The Villa Rospigliosi

The Villa Rospigliosi, September home of the Aegean Center for the Fine Arts

If it’s Monday, this must be Ravenna…

By on August 27, 2012 in beauty, Greece, Paros, skill and craft

If this is Monday, then I must be in Ravenna…

I have been in three countries since Friday.  I left Athens Friday afternoon and it was 40*C.  I landed at London Heathrow a couple of hours later and it was 18*C.  Last night I flew from London to Bologna and it was still 28*C at 11PM when I arrived at Marconi Airport.  This morning I took the train to Ravenna and it is currently a balmy 30*C here on the Adriatic coast of Italy at 9PM. As much as I loved seeing friends in London over the weekend it feels good to be back in the southern half of the continent.  Please forgive my jet-setting.  It is only my itinerary.  I am here for three days and then I take the train to Pistoia, in Tuscany, where I meet up with my fellow artists of the Aegean Center.

Ravenna is a lovely little town and as I sit in a cafe on the street, James Brown and his band emanate from the speakers, enhancing the long, short bricks that are the common foundation.  At the risk of sounding pedestrian, the bricks are important.  This style of brick-making has been utilized throughout this part of Italy for thousands of years and many of the Byzantine-era basilica are constructed with this material.  Ravenna is the home to some of the most lovely Byzantine mosaics dating from the late 2nd century ACE until the end of the 5th century and was the capital of the Byzantine West even after the Council of Nicea had made such thinking heretical in 325.  The history of the city pre-dates this time by a couple of millennia and there are reports from the Greek historian Dionysius of Halicarnassus claiming that the city was founded several generations before the Trojan War.  This cannot be confirmed but the geographer Strabo professes that the city was founded by Greeks from Thessaly.  It makes sense to me.  I’ll let everyone discover the rich and varied history for themselves but do not be surprised when you look at the Basilica of San Vitale and notice that it bears a striking resemblance to both the Agia Sofia in Istanbul and the Ekatontapiliani on the Greek island of Paros.  The large, broad dome, connected apses, the hexagonal structure and the vibrant interior urge the visitor to consider his or her spiritual position here on Earth rather than a pending afterlife common in the heaven-grasping spires of later, post-Byzantine designs.  And did I mention the mosaics?  Boffo…good ones.  “Colorful” is not the word to describe them.  I visited some today and have only two or three to cross off my list.  This means I will have time this week to re-visit them all and get some pictures.

My hotel is very nice–clean, convenient and not too expensive.  I am staying at the Hotel Centrale Byron just inside the pedestrian/bicycle zone in the old city.  I have to investigate Lord Byron’s influence in Ravenna.  He lived in Pisa and Genoa before he joined the fight for Greek independence in the 1820s.  I am suddenly thinking of Byron’s statue in the city park of Athens…many strong threads for me to hold on to here.

Dinner tonight was at a family-run restaurant off the tourist trail.  ‘Vecchia Ravenna da Mario’  was recommended by the hotelier and it did not disappoint.  The only unfortunate aspect (minor at best) is that there is some street paving being done by the city on Via Giuseppe Pasolini where the restaurant is located.  This did not affect my meal, however, as the workers had quit for the day hours before.  As I ate my ‘gnocchi ai quattro formaggio’ and ‘arrosto misto’  the place began to fill up with Italian families. It was a good sign and I was pleased with the meal.  Italian home-cooking to be sure-nothing fancy, just home-cookin’–my kind of grub.  Regarding food, the hotelier mentioned that one of the local specialties is a plate of fried, whole sardines, i.e. ‘sarde fritte‘. Hmm…it sounds a bit like gavros.  Where the heck am I?  I swear the signpost said ‘Italia’ when I ambled into town…

JDCM

 

A wealth of art on Paros…

By on August 14, 2012 in beauty, Greece, Paros, skill and craft, spring in the Aegean, working

This past week has seen a upswing in the opportunities one may have to view art,  or generally just wander around in a daze of artistic influence.  Like many people I have my favorites styles of artistic expression and I will try my best to not be a judge of either the art or the experiences of others.  True, much of what I saw did not appeal to me so I will focus on what I found to be charming, influential, skillful and expressionistic in a charged and inspiring fashion.  That being said I will be sure to give my opinions.

There are as many schools, i.e. ‘types’, of art as there are colors of socks in my sock drawer.  I can end a night of gallery openings feeling somewhat dizzy so it is best to wait a few days, let the dust settle and then post a short review.  On Friday night there were two openings that I enjoyed.  The first was that of my friend and mentor Jun-Pierre Shiozawa and his new collection of India ink paintings titled ‘Sacred/Wild’.  I have already written extensively about his work and his Kickstarter  efforts to get the show off the ground and flying.  I found the hung show to be inspiring, humorous yet also mysterious in the way that dreams are the mysteries of sleep.  The show was well attended and is up for a few more days.  As a member of the arts community here on Paros Jun-Pierre has been a positive force in an off-island art world that can often times be overly-opinionated and even callous.  His work speaks for itself and if you ask him about the current exhibition he is more likely to relate technical details or perhaps unwind his tale initial inspiration for these large monochromatic ink paintings of wild animals, at home in humanity’s domus sancti.

The second show I enjoyed was a very small exhibition of oil paintings by the artist Iokim Mineretzopoulos who has been working in conjunction with Euphrosyne Doxiadis, another Greek artist and art historian here on Paros.  The subject is ‘The Adoration of the Lamb’ and it will be combined in the near future with a small book of poems by the poet Rory Brennan and published by the Aegean Center Press.  Understanding that these few oil pieces were studies for a larger, more comprehensive work, I was charmed by their simplicity, delicacy and humility.   A few pieces  reminded me of the the dream-like backgrounds found in Renaissance portraiture.  Iokim’s work exudes ‘semnos’, or modesty, a trait that is often difficult to find, or perhaps absent, in the current market-driven art world.

The three other shows that opened this past weekend were, although not to my taste, a plus for the community.   I found their abstract expressionistic efforts mostly derivative, often mundane and, in one case, poorly contrived, but that is only this writers opinion.  The important aspect is that in two days there was a wealth of art on public display, as it always should.  It reminded me of my youth in Provincetown and Wellfleet, going from one gallery opening to the next: truly exciting.   For me, the experience was worth it.  It allowed me to use my eyes, absorb some color and socialize in a supportive setting.  In retrospect, it was a successful weekend for all involved.  People had fun seeing, being seen and seeing others.  The women were dressed up and everyone had the kind of color one associates with the summer crowd.  Even I, bumming about in my cargo shorts and Dr. Who t-shirt, felt at home in these dog-day galleries.

JDCM

Some guests at the opening of ‘Sacred/Wild’ by Jun-Pierre Shiozawa

 

Emerson, beauty and hiking…

By on August 8, 2012 in beauty, Greece, Paros, quiet islands, skill and craft, Uncategorized, working

I have been hiking some more through the dry heat of the island and enjoying the sweat and the feeling of the hot air going into my lungs as I breathe.  Most of the walks have been around 12 km and primarily on well-traveled paths or roads.  That is a drawback since walking on pavement is terrible for my legs and back.  Tomorrow I head back out to Kolimbithres, but this time I will skirt the rocky edge of the island, bushwhacking through the dry, thorny underbrush.  The goal will be the same: the beach and swimming.  I’ll try to get some pictures.  I must say that I am enjoying the solo hiking.  It allows me to clear my head and think thoughts both shallow and deep.  I guess I just let them come and go as I walk, similar to a walking meditation in Buddhism.  Awareness of the steps I take and the objects to use and avoid while hiking is part of the meditation.  John Pack, the director of the Aegean Center believes that hiking is one of the ways we exercise the brain.  I can see his point.  As I walk though the uneven surfaces of rock, dirt and thorn my brain is calculating and sending millions of mathematical signals to my muscles and tendons, making sure I do not fall or slip.  Mindful awareness and the physical world.  Emerson would like that.

Speaking of the poet, I was reading him this morning and in his essay ‘Domestic Life’ he discusses the concept of beauty.  For him, beauty is all but indefinable and certainly transient.  Beauty, as he would agree, is in the eye of the beholder.  He wrote, “Beauty is, even in the beautiful, occasional,-or as one has said, culminating and perfect only a single moment before which is unripe, and after which it is on the wane.  But beauty is never quite absent from our eyes.  Every face, every figure suggests its own right and sound estate.”

Beauty is fleeting, random, changeable like the weather.  Thus have been my affections, although their emotional imprint remains fossilized and frozen in time.  I look back on the record with wistful, sometimes misty, eyes and wonder what would have been had the timing been different, the light at a different angle, something…Beauty, though, to me at least, remains fixed.  I still think of past loves as beautiful, for there was beauty in the thinking and acting.  None of them, I must admit, retain any angelic nature of memory.  Certainly nothing devious either, and I have never fooled myself into thinking that there was anything other than a normal, human connection at work.  To think otherwise would be to elevate these affections atop a pedestal and denigrate my own existence beneath them.  Neither of these are real.  So I will remember Emerson’s observation that beauty, like the cherry blossoms below, is real and on the vine yet subject to the shifting climate.

JDCM

Cherry blossoms, Manassas, Virginia, 2008