One wanders through the labyrinth that is the Louvre, in awe of its vast collection of ancient art.
I was lost in more ways than one.
Jean-Luc Martinez, the museum's new president, plans on "Revamping the Louvre to Lose that Lost Feeling," according to the New York Time's Article this week. I look forward to finding my way. But being lost in the 15th century and stumbling upon these travelers with their big bags, fur hat, and bright blue shoes in a quiet corner contemplating the story of Saint Sebastian and Saint Andrew isn't all bad.
"It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated talk, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing.
"...a dynamic combination of warmth, sunshine and lightning." Those were words used to describe Marjorie Claire Fox in a lovingly written New York Timesobituary this week. It was her picture that caught my eye. An engaging, open, compelling face. I would have liked to have known this person. Reading about her enlivened a morning clouded with a world gone mad, in the same way these women in orange and yellow brought life to Rothko's "Untitled, 1969" at the De Young Museum's Modernism exhibit last week. Warmth, sunshine, and lightning. We could all use more of that.
Optimism. We could all use more of it to catapult us to better lived lives. So says David Brooks in today's NY Times piece, "Snap out of It." I love the title and also the views expressed. We all have ways of snapping ourselves out of downward spirals. Orange and Green does it for me. Especially when augmented by the lady in her orange scarf carrying an orange purse standing in awe of Kelly's audacity of color at the De Young Museum "Modernism" Exhibit of the Meyerhoff Collection.
Available from Studio Gallery SF Delicious Show
September 25 - October 20 1641 Pacific Avenue (between Polk & Van Ness)
There is nothing like an egg in the morning. Poached. On toast. Served on Ann's bright orange plates. Carrie's eggs. Fresh from the island. The shells in jewel tones, too pretty to discard. The stuff that paintings are made of.
In anticipation of Hurricane Arthur's arrival on the island, Jan cut all her peonies and gave me one in a cobalt blue bottle. Jan's gifting of bouquets from her spectacular island garden has become a tradition. She gardens. I paint. Summer. Simple beauty. With power and water restored we can get on with it.
Overnight the fog rolled in. Coming and going several times during the day, it has settled in for good now, blanketing our little world in muffled sound and muted colors. Quiet and calm are all around despite talk of a hurricane offshore threatening wind and rain on the weekend. Here and now, a surfeit of island eggs continue to capture my attention. Tomorrow they will be made into deviled eggs for July 4th festivities. Maybe, if I can bear to part with them, that is.
You never know what you might find at the island post office. Turns out our Saturday post mistress has chickens, which I knew from Facebook. I ordered up two dozen which were delivered to the shed on our dock this afternoon. Bonanza! A whole extra dozen of "Pretty Eggs" just begging to be subjects of a painting. They are all pretty, and those that don't end up in tomorrow's dessert just might become the subject of many more paintings this summer. You never know.
Last week the word, "flourish" grabbed my attention. This week it's "pool." Tide pool, swimming pool, pool of clear, cold water. Everyone into the pool. It's got the essence of summer written all over it.
The word "flourish" came to me in the middle of last night and with it a sense of well being. I am not sure whether I was awake or in the midst of a dream, but there followed the realization that some words trigger powerful emotions deep seated in our complicated selves. Flourish. Magnificent in all its meanings. I have been thinking of it all day.