Saturday, March 28, 2009

In the wee small hours of the morning…

Cruelty is a mystery, and the waste of pain. But if we describe a world to compass these things, a world that is a long, brute game, then we bump against another mystery: the inrush of power and light, the canary that sings on the skull. Unless all ages and races of men have been deluded by the same mass hypnotist (who?), there seems to be such a thing as beauty, a grace wholly gratuitous. About five years ago I saw a mockingbird make a straight vertical descent from the roof-gutter of a four-story building. It was an act as careless and spontaneous as the curl of a stem or the kindling of a star.

The mockingbird took a single step into the air and dropped. His wings were still folded against his sides as though he were singing from a limb and not falling, accelerating thirty-two feet per second per second, through empty air. Just a breath before he would have been dashed to the ground, he unfurled his wings with exact, deliberate care, revealing the broad bars of white, spread his elegant, white-banded tail, and so floated onto the grass. I had just rounded a corner when his insouciant step caught my eye; there was no one else in sight. The fact of his free fall was like the old philosophical conundrum about the tree that falls in the forest. The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.

Annie Dillard ~ Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

At two o'clock this morning I couldn't sleep so I took advantage of my insomnia (a trick that all long time victims of sleepless nights eventually learn) & made use of the time to e-mail a friend in Japan. While my keyboard softly clicked away, I could hear, somewhere on the night-quiet street, a solitary mockingbird singing his little heart out; endlessly repeating his appropriated cyclical melodies, trying to find a mate.

He's still at it.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Modernity, Silent & Shimmering (after F. W. Murnau), 2009

Friday, March 20, 2009

Spring, 2009

Harbinger of spring…
Is it blossom petals? No,
Snow incognito…

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Interior Study, 2009

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Interior Study, 2009

Monday, March 16, 2009

Garden Study, 2009

Friday, March 13, 2009

I know there was talk last year about these tiny gems but I wanted (hence the inclusion of my hand as a scale reference) to give you a sense of how small they really are.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Unsolicited Manifesto of the Day

"The simplest Surreal act consists of dashing down into the street, pistol in hand, and firing blindly, as fast as you can pull the trigger, into the crowd."

André Breton, The Second Surrealist Manifesto

Monday, March 9, 2009

Interior Study, 2009

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Snowdrop, 2009

I have spent the past week hunkered down under a quilt with a high fever, caused by a nasty bout of influenza: this was indeed, just what the doctor ordered.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Interior Study, 2009