cf. Video by cottonbro via Pexels and Gustave Caillebotte, “Paris Street; Rainy Day” (1877) (collage by me)
When I’m with you
Tag: paintings
“diaphane III: evolution”
diaphane III: evolution (digital painting and animation by me)
“diaphane II: afterburn”
“diaphane II: afterburn” (digital painting by me)
She’s got the backseat rhythm
But she was not made for any man, and she never will be all mine
cf. Courier Company, Theatrical poster (1899)
She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun ’tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of colored beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.She loves me all that she can,
And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
And she never will be all mine.
— Edna St. Vincent Millay, Witch-Wife
“Take, oh take those lips away”
William Glackens, “At Mouquin’s” (1905)
Take, oh take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes: the breake of day,
Lights that do mislead the Morn;
But my kisses bring again, bring again,
Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.
— Measure for Measure
Easter
John Sloan, “Easter Eve” (1907)
Witchcraft
cf. John Singer Sargent: Madame X, Dr. Pozzi at Home, and The Dinner Table (edited and rearranged collage)
“I drink all the coffee I want…”
“…a new failure — and I have had enough of it.” (Vincent van Gogh, born on this day)
Before leaving Saint-Rémy, he wrote to Émile Bernard:
“…And yet, once again I let myself go reaching for stars that are too big —
a new failure — and I have had enough of it.”
trying
Photograph by Ståle Grut via Unsplash
Life is a crucible. We are thrown into it, and tried.
— Edwin Hubbell Chapin, “Living Words”
impression
cf. Nancy Ford Cones, “Mending The Net” (ca. 1912) and John William Waterhouse, The Lady of Shalott (1888)
…trying as usual to get my picture of myself straight.
— Robert Lowell, Near the Unbalanced Aquarium
Dowland — Book of Songs, Book 1: “All ye whom love or fortune hath betrayed” (David Munderloh)
Sunflower Variation I
John Sapiro, “Sunflower Variation I” (Pastel/Digital)
It was the heat of the moment
Please Mr. Postman
cf. Horace Bundy, Vermont Lawyer (1841)
Study our manuscripts, those myriads
Of letters, which have past twixt thee and me,
Thence write our annals, and in them will be
To all whom love’s subliming fire invades,
Rule and example found;
There, the faith of any ground
No schismatic will dare to wound,
That sees, how Love this grace to us affords,
To make, to keep, to use, to be these his records.
— John Donne, A Valediction of the Book (excerpt)
“roman à clef”
cf. Cincinnati Magazine, 1979 with additional artwork by me
roman à clef
Here’s the key —
art=autobiography
— J.S.
I said, Lord, take me downtown
“And sweetest in the gale is heard…”
Jerome B. Thompson, “A Pic Nick in the Woods of New England” (detail) (ca. 1855)
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all…
— Emily Dickinson
Meanwhile across town…
cf. Edward Hopper, “Nighthawks” (detail) (1942) and Paul Gauguin, “The Siesta” (detail) (ca. 1892–94)
Poor Wisdom’s chance
Against a glance
Is now as weak as ever.
— Thomas Moore, “The Time Iʼve Lost in Wooing” (excerpt)
I met her on the strip. It was another lost weekend.
cf. The Denison Limner, “Miss Denison of Stonington, Connecticut” (ca. 1790)
“Talk To Ya Later” – The Tubes
I Want To Be Your Man
cf. The Finnish Museum of Photography, “Kulutusosuuskuntien Keskusliiton kokoelma” and
Grant Wood, “American Gothic” (1930)
Watermark
cf. Antoine-Émile Bourdelle, “Irene Millet” (1917) and Edouard Manet, A Bar at the Folies-Bergère (1882)
Yet diaries do, indirectly, lay claim to a certain kind of immortality, projecting a voice beyond the grave. Alice James’s diary was her dialogue with the future. It gave form to her sense of ironic detachment. And it created a communion in her lonely life…
—Jean Strouse, Alice James: A Biography
Love Won’t Let Me Wait
cf. Pompeo Batoni, “Portrait of a Young Man” (ca. 1760–65) and
image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images via Pixabay and
video by Felix_Broennimann (“Star, Long Exposure”) via Pixabay and
video by InspiredImages (“Lava Lamp”) via Pixabay
Portrait Of A Woman Painting
cf. Marie Denise Villers, “Marie Joséphine Charlotte du Val d’Ognes” (1801) and
video by Electric_Cat via Pixabay
Starry Night
cf. Vincent van Gogh, “Starry Night” (1888)
Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love.
—Hamlet
Blue Wind
cf. Joseph Wright of Derby, “Philosopher Giving a Lecture on the Orrery” (ca. 1768)
3D “Sunflower”
John Sapiro, “Sunflower” (pastel/digital) (1998/2017)
There is a flower that bees prefer,
And butterflies desire…
—Emily Dickinson
All I want to be is by your side
cf. Thomas Gainsborough, “Mr and Mrs Andrews” (ca. 1750)
Have Mercy
“Back out of all this now too much for us”
cf. Harry W. Watrous, The Passing of Summer (1912)
Back out of all this now too much for us,
Back in a time made simple by the loss
Of detail, burned, dissolved, and broken off…
–Robert Frost, Directive
Hey, hey you got me rocking now
cf. Whistler, “Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1”, also called “Portrait of the Artist’s Mother” (1871) and
Maxell advertisement (1980)
“The meaning is what the poem means to different sensitive readers.”
Albert Bartholomé, The Artist’s Wife Reading (1883)
“But as for the meaning of the poem as a whole, it is not exhausted by any explanation, for the meaning is what the poem means to different sensitive readers.”
—T. S. Eliot, “The Frontiers of Criticism”
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
cf. Georges Seurat, A Sunday on La Grande Jatte — 1884 (1884/86) and LIFE (1965)
Walk right in, sit right down. Daddy, let your mind roll on.
cf. John Smibert, “Francis Brinley” (1729)
“While our hero lies comfortably in his bed at home…”
Illustration by H. J. Ford from “The Book Of Romance” (1902)
Thus they drive on the day with such doings while our hero lies comfortably in his bed at home in clothes full rich of hue. The lady did not forget; she came to greet him; full early she was by him to change his mind. She comes to the curtain and peeps at the knight. Sir Gawain at once welcomes her worthily, and she returns his greeting right promptly, seats herself softly by his side, laughs openly, and with a lovely look addresses these words to him: “Sir, if ye be Gawain, it seems to me a very strange thing that a man of such quality should not follow the conventions of good society; and should after making acquaintance with a person cast him utterly from his mind. Thou hast already forgotten what I taught you yesterday in the best language that I knew.” “What is that?” quoth the hero. “Forsooth I know not. If what ye say be true, I am to blame.” “Yet I taught you about kissing,” replied the fair lady; “wherever a countenance is known, quickly to claim a kiss; that becomes every knight who practices courtesy…”
—Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
She’s turnin’ on the heat
And it’s a little too much
She’s turnin’ on the heat
And it’s a hundred above, yeah…
Satin Doll
“Let us go then, you and I…”
cf. Remo Farruggio, Basin Street (1938) and LIFE, 1968
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
–T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (excerpt)
“Enjoy’d no sooner but despised straight”
cf. Jean Raoux, Couple Dancing in a Park (1725)
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
–Sonnet CXXIX
“…of course you knew from Behrens that I was still here, waiting for you.”
cf. John Atkinson Grimshaw, Canny Glasgow (1887) and Daniel Chester French, Joe’s Farewell (1872–73)
“…of course you knew from Behrens that I was still here, waiting for you. But I’ve told you that I think of that night simply as a dream, our dream, and that I concede you have your freedom. After all, I did not really wait in vain, because you are here again, we are sitting next to one another just as then, I can hear the wonderful edge to your voice, so familiar to my ear for a very long time; and under that billowing silk are arms that I know well…”
—Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain
I can wait forever
Helping you to see
That I was meant for you
And you for me…
Mated
Everyone asks
Are we some kind of lovers?
Everyone asks what you’re doing with me
I know this is not what they want
They’re afraid you’ve been blinded
But I already know how it’s going to beIf anyone should ask
Say we’re mated
For as long as this life lasts
We are mated
Why else would you be here right now
And you know we’ll still be here tomorrowNobody else understands what I’m doing
Nobody else makes me act in this way
And because they can’t comprehend
What we mean to each other
They won’t leave you alone
So you know what to say…
Jacob Van Loo, An Amorous Couple (ca. 1650)
Lonely Nights
Charles Frederic Ulrich, Moment Musicale (1883)
and slworking2, Short time lapse of the harvest moon rising over a mountain – YouTube
You Shook Me All Night Long
cf. John Singer Sargent, Mr. and Mrs. I. N. Phelps Stokes (1897)
and Grant Wood, American Gothic (1930)
“I love thee to the level of every day’s most quiet need, by sun and candle-light…”
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light…
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese 43: “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways”
I never knew how complete love could be
Till she kissed me and said…
cf. Delphin Enjolras, The Fireplace and The Best Fireplace Video
Don’t let my glad expression give you the wrong impression
cf. LIFE, 1966
and John Singer Sargent, Madame X (1883–84)
and Jean-Antoine Watteau, Pierrot, formerly known as Gilles (ca. 1718-19)
Your memory seems like a living thing — I never know if I’m imagining
cf. Thomas Eakins, The Thinker: Portrait of Louis N. Kenton (1900) and The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964)
Your memory seems like a living thing
I never know if I’m imagining
I look at your face and I know that it’s impossible
Forgetting it’s just a dream
Now I’m hearing your voice saying anything is possible
Forgetting it’s just a dream…
Time passes much too quickly when we’re together laughing
Claude Monet, Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies (1899) and That Junior Miss Spirit : GM Photographic
“Heart, we will forget him!”
Robert Burns, The Window Seat (ca. 1905) and startgrid, “Clouds Time Lapse – YouTube”
Heart, we will forget him!
You and I, to-night!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.When you have done, pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you’re lagging,
I may remember him!
–Emily Dickinson
Back in my room I wonder
Then I sit on the bed
Look at the sky
Up in the sky
Clouds rearrange…
“Business!” cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. “Mankind was my business.”
Ferdinand Hodler, The Good Samaritan (1885)
“But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,” faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself.
“Business!” cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. “Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”
—Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
“Young John” (Painting By Arris Grace Hodge)
Source: Young John – arrisgracehodge / Saatchi Art: Young John Painting by Arris Grace Hodge
Artist: Arris Grace Hodge
Arris Grace Hodge | Saatchi Art
Arris Grace Hodge, “Young John” (Oil on Canvas, 18 H x 24 W x 2 in)
“Sensorium”
Peter Ilsted, Mother and Child in an Interior (1898)
“Sensorium”
1965: a song – “Come fly with me, said the little red sled”
1966: a hand in my hand on a frozen pond
1967: a poem – “Then there’s a pair of us–don’t tell!”
1968: a rush of perfume and cold air to say goodnight
1969: a light in the darkness
“Nessun maggior dolore
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria…”
—J.S., “Sensorium”
Hot love if you want it
cf. Jakub Schikaneder, Company on the Terrace (1887)
Gonna be a dental floss tycoon
cf. Frans Hals, The Laughing Cavalier (1624)
You put your right foot in, you put your right foot out, you put your right foot in and you shake it all about.
Nicolas Poussin, A Dance to the Music of Time (detail) (ca.1634-1636)
A Fifth Of Beethoven
cf. Victor Gabriel Gilbert, Scène de Bal and Joseph Karl Stieler, Portrait of Ludwig van Beethoven (1820)
“Drink to me only with thine eyes”
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I’ll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
–Ben Jonson, Song—To Celia: “Drink to me only with thine eyes” (excerpt)
Frans Hals, Young Man and Woman in an Inn (1623)
“I’m with you in Rockland”
I’m with you in Rockland…
–Allen Ginsberg, Howl
Edvard Munch, Night In Saint-Cloud (1892)
Fièvre du Samedi soir au Moulin de la Galette
cf. Auguste Renoir, Bal du moulin de la Galette (1876)
And that sweet city woman,
She moves through the light…
Just when you think you got a good thing it seems to slip away
cf. Georges Seurat: A Sunday on La Grande Jatte — 1884 (detail) (1884/86),
Study for “A Sunday on La Grande Jatte” (1884)
and Gustave Caillebotte: Paris Street; Rainy Day, 1877 (detail) (1877)
Barracuda
cf. Gerard ter Borch the Younger, A Woman Playing the Theorbo-Lute and a Cavalier (ca. 1658)
She Blinded Me With Science
cf. Jacques Louis David, Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier and His Wife Marie-Anne-Pierrette Paulze (1788)
“Was there another Troy for her to burn?”
Why, what could she have done being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?
–from W.B. Yeats, No Second Troy
Don’t you know that
It’s our love that’s burning
Burning like a flame…
Petrus van Schendel, Market Place By Candlelight (1851)
“You won’t like them,” she returned indirectly; “they’ve run wild…”
“You’re from the white boat that sailed in at sunset?”
“Yes,” he replied, “and I am returning immediately.”
“It was like magic! ” she continued. “Suddenly, without a sound, you were anchored in the bay.”
Even this quiet statement bore the shadowy alarm. John Woolfolk realized that it had not been caused by his abrupt appearance; the faint accent of dread was fixed in the illusive form before him.
“I have robbed you too,” he continued in a lighter tone. “Your oranges are in my pocket.”
“You won’t like them,” she returned indirectly; “they’ve run wild. We can’t sell them.”
“They have a distinct flavor of their own,” he assured her. “I should be glad to have some on the Gar.
“All you want…”
—Joseph Hergesheimer, “Wild Oranges”
cf. Eugene de Blaas, Young Woman With Basket Of Oranges And Lemons (1902)
