All in Art
Schreckengost’ entire body of work reflects his thinking as: concept; design; and making. He thought all three a necessary continuum. Head was as important as hand, each worked as one to create products that were beautiful, appropriate, and made to a purpose.
Art, literature, philosophy, politics, and anything else worth thinking about, or looking at, depend upon frames-of-reference that say, "look at this".
Frames direct attention; it's their only real job.
Arcadia became treasured memory, Arcadians became Cajuns, and Longfellow's story of Evangeline became Cajun history.
The truth of art transcends dry history.
Poverty, tragedy, and injustice may only veil a better, larger reality hidden to ordinary reality. The romantic view mightn't be true, but it should be.
Serious artists open themselves to inspiration by seriously intending to do the best work they can. Unseen providence is attracted to those who seriously want to do the best they can.
The figures on the wall flow with energy and grace. They move like living animals. I can't believe the artists who created these pictures intended them as no more than totem caricatures useful only for making magic.
The value of the troubadour form is that the mimimal embellishment reveals the heart of the work - Art, or lack thereof, is easier to hear when background ornamentation is removed.
He once famously said to Picasso,
"You and I are the greatest painters
in Paris: I in the modern genre,
you in the Egyptian".
The magnificence was twofold; the beauty of the verses was wrapped in the archaeological triumph of recovered art. It was almost too good to be true.
It wasn't true.
It has taken many years to turn common sense into nonsense. The long struggle is now over. Isn’t nasty reality really much more worth the attention of the serious artist? Celebration of beauty, truth, and goodness is so, “yesterday”.
They often filled an entire page of newspaper. They were animated, engaging, beautiful. They were cartoons that wanted to be movies. They wanted to burst through the confines of two-dimensional print into full three-dimensional motion.
I’m willing to think more kindly of winter. I wish winter would do the same for me.
Despite fame and fortune, the little girl without parents, who lived her young life with whores, never went away. She stood next to Edith Gassion at every turn - Piaf or not.
Despite being fictional, Mack the Knife continues to haunt the darker alleys of our minds. A large reason why is the schism between lyric and score.
It takes a few minutes of listening
to realize the song is about murder
as a career.
Femme fatale, Exotic dancer, Courtesan, Spy; Mata Hari has been variously labeled all of these. There is some truth to all of them, left out are: Mother; Abused Wife; and Scapegoat
Don’t know what the argument was about. Don’t even know there was an argument. Might’a been just bar talk.