Tuesday, March 24, 2015

The Real McCoys

The posts from now until the new book drops in May will be—in old anthropology lingo--participant observation, with me as the participant observing this crazy little thing called life. And I’ll go meta---I’ll write about writing, directly and through analogy; for example, I take and I juxtapose something such as the sculptor Anthony Caro talking about combining pieces of metal to create a work of art, comparing the process to using notes in composing music:  “Just as a succession of these make up a melody or a sonata, so I take anonymous units and try to make them cohere in an open way into a sculptural whole.” And then I compare that process to my writing, the random words and phrases in my pieces being the same as the “notes” and the “anonymous units” in Caro’s statement.  Voila!  Writing about writing.

But to kick things off, here are excerpts and quotes from, and about, a random group of artists, writers, and religious leaders, people I call The Real McCoys.  So put your hands together for:  Helen Frankenthaler, Emily Dickinson, Fernando Pessoa, W.H. Auden, Mary Baker Eddy, Jesus Christ, Sonny Greer, Robert Olson, Virginia Woolf, Geoffrey Chaucer, Jane Austen, Gertrude Stein, William Blake and Samuel Beckett. 

Helen Frankenthaler

A really good picture looks as if it's happened at once.

Emily Dickinson

A route of evanescence
With a revolving wheel;
A resonance of emerald,
A rush of cochineal;
And every blossom on the bush
Adjusts its tumbled head,---
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy morning’s ride.

Fernando Pessoa

The ports with their unmoving ships,
Intensely unmoving ships,
And small boats close by, waiting…

W.H. Auden

Far off like floating seeds the ships
Diverge on urgent voluntary errands,
And this full view
Indeed may enter
And move in memory as now these clouds do,
That pass the harbor mirror
And all the summer through the water saunter.

Mary Baker Eddy

And o'er earth's troubled, angry sea
I see Christ walk,
And come to me, and tenderly,
Divinely talk.

Sonny Greer

Cast your bread upon the waters and it comes back buttered toast.

Charles Olson

INTERVIEWER:  Why have you chosen poetry as a medium of artistic creation?
OLSON:  I think I made a hell of a mistake.

Virginia Woolf

[Chaucer], it seems, has some art by which the most ordinary words and the simplest feelings when laid side by side make each other shine.

[Jane Austen], too, in her modest, everyday prose, chose the dangerous art where one slip means death…She stimulates us to supply what is not there…something that expands iin the reader’s mind and endows with the most enduring form of life scenes which are outwardly trivial.

Gertrude Stein

A tree is not lonesome just because its leaves aren’t bright.

William Blake

  • The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
  • You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
  • Exuberance is Beauty.

Samuel Beckett

I never considered the loss of consciousness that great a loss. 

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