concretekiss (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
concretekiss) wrote2009-10-04 02:34 pm
concretekiss) wrote2009-10-04 02:34 pm
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santa anna nicole richie sambora bora pearl beach resort
Everything feels so half finished. Even my thoughts are fragmented. Sentences are abandoned for others only barely airborn. I am having problems being In the Moment. Like right now I am worried about how cluttered the house is, my fingernails have paint under them which looks like I've been playing w poo, or if I should go to the park, or what ever happened to the night blooming cereus that was stolen from my stoop years ago when I lived in shanty town. I worry the internet has made my mind as wavering as a weathervane with all this clickery. I worry that society today with its latest scandal lifestyle, its ultra mega convenient super disposable, handy newer newest thing is losing focus and no one takes the time to notice, perfectly. Or they do, briefly before moving on to the next momentarily big thing. Look at all those pronouns. So anyway, huh? (I need to get started on those pork chops for dinner)
Artists, men of learning, and enlightened prelates were fascinated by the robust and bewildering art of Caravaggio, but the negative reaction of church officials reflected the self-protective irritation of academic painters and the instinctive resistance of the more conservative clergy and much of the populace. The more brutal aspects of Caravaggio's paintings were condemned partly because Caravaggio's common people bear no relation to the graceful suppliants popular in much of Counter-Reformation art. They are plain working men, muscular, stubborn, and tenacious.
Caravaggio was a 16th century painter/bar brawler whose realism was celebrated as well as reviled. His painting of a boy with a basket of fruit was so detailed as to impart each leaf's stain, each skin's bruise and flaw.
He went on to glorify freckles like stars, paint harlots as virgins, peasants as noblemen, and retained his naturalist convictions under the pressures of poverty and to the disdain of art scholars. (Netflix is totally fleecing me.) He was a passionate and hot tempered man. He slept with weapons, murdered men in quarrels, fled the law and enemies from city to city, painting by lantern light behind closed shudders, whores and vagrants as royalty. His pieces surfaced in wealthy estates like messages on shore lines.
His paintings now resound for me in a way they never have since I've began reading about his life. I am often so affected by the biographies of artists that their work visually or audibly changes. Hindsight can tarnish or enhance the past depending on what is discovered. I am conflicted as to if an artist's biography should be avoided or sought, integrated or kept separate from the work, like church and state, though both so often influence the other. and as well, each are their own pieces of art. (Should I give up on looking good in boots?)
My latest thing is pretending I am going on a trip far far away. Looking up hotel rates in Verona, Athens or Rio de Janiero. Finding an arresting landscape photograph and following it to the job market, airline tickets, real estate. It's exciting for a moment, the things one can do from bed with the push of a button. (It could be safe to say that across the sea, a ship carries a Lexus to a trophy wife who is making dinner plans at this moment.) (What am I doing with my life?) (Do I have any broccoli?)
Artists, men of learning, and enlightened prelates were fascinated by the robust and bewildering art of Caravaggio, but the negative reaction of church officials reflected the self-protective irritation of academic painters and the instinctive resistance of the more conservative clergy and much of the populace. The more brutal aspects of Caravaggio's paintings were condemned partly because Caravaggio's common people bear no relation to the graceful suppliants popular in much of Counter-Reformation art. They are plain working men, muscular, stubborn, and tenacious.
Caravaggio was a 16th century painter/bar brawler whose realism was celebrated as well as reviled. His painting of a boy with a basket of fruit was so detailed as to impart each leaf's stain, each skin's bruise and flaw.
He went on to glorify freckles like stars, paint harlots as virgins, peasants as noblemen, and retained his naturalist convictions under the pressures of poverty and to the disdain of art scholars. (Netflix is totally fleecing me.) He was a passionate and hot tempered man. He slept with weapons, murdered men in quarrels, fled the law and enemies from city to city, painting by lantern light behind closed shudders, whores and vagrants as royalty. His pieces surfaced in wealthy estates like messages on shore lines.
His paintings now resound for me in a way they never have since I've began reading about his life. I am often so affected by the biographies of artists that their work visually or audibly changes. Hindsight can tarnish or enhance the past depending on what is discovered. I am conflicted as to if an artist's biography should be avoided or sought, integrated or kept separate from the work, like church and state, though both so often influence the other. and as well, each are their own pieces of art. (Should I give up on looking good in boots?)
My latest thing is pretending I am going on a trip far far away. Looking up hotel rates in Verona, Athens or Rio de Janiero. Finding an arresting landscape photograph and following it to the job market, airline tickets, real estate. It's exciting for a moment, the things one can do from bed with the push of a button. (It could be safe to say that across the sea, a ship carries a Lexus to a trophy wife who is making dinner plans at this moment.) (What am I doing with my life?) (Do I have any broccoli?)
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Wonderful post. I was introduced to Caravaggio a few years ago and remain amazed by his light. I'm amazed by your light too, but it's not just the light in your paintings, but the light in you. Sure brightened my day today. Thank you, kindly, Miss Flight.
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the same w Caravaggio and only recently learning of him. his contrast is arresting, but i especially love learning how his models were street people and he painted their likeness even down to their dirty feet.
i am proud to brighten yr day and admire you for writing a book, lady. you're buckling down and doing what i can't seem to sit still long enough to accomplish. congratulations!
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I swore that when it came to Velasquez I would be better prepared.
Caravaggio sticks in many a painter's eye regardless of his background.
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Penitent Magdalene looks WAAAAY different to me now.
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There was recently a movie out about him back in August.
http://seul-le-cinema.blogspot.com/2009/02/caravaggio.html
I swear I've heard that actress's name somewhere before.
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Came out 1986! Reviewed in that blog this year.
Tilda Swinton won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for Michael Clayton.
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there were inaccurate implications frm the movie tho; the reason for killing Ranuccio and the insinuation that he was homosexual. historians have come to find he went both ways. :D it's still a very interesting take.
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it makes me think of how children sometimes behave in ways that reveal their upbringing, but in other instances it's daunting how different they are from their parents.
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style is like my favourite, as I may or
may not have said before. The Baroque
paintings are always what have stayed in
my memories from childhood, and when I
have visited museums in cities that actu-
ally have real museums. And I remember
Caravaggio's "Beheading of" works from
my childhood.
Does Netflix have a movie about the life
of Caravaggio?
You would look good without boots, but
boots are awesome.
I feel sometimes, too, like the Internet
is the new TV, but I am glad it's here,
as I'd see a lot less without it. And
*you* see more of this city than I did
in the seven or so years I had to play
in it.
I'm reading a book right now that has a
Court of Night Blooming Flowers, and one
of the Houses is Cereus. I don't even
know what that *is*! (Or won't, until I
goto Wikipedia in the next minute.)
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Boots ARE awesome, and I have 4 pairs that I never wear them because I am so small they make me look like this.
I will never forget that plant. It was huge too and soon to bloom. It is very rare when they do, and over before dawn, so you have to stay up late to see it.
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I love that stark contrast between light
and dark from that era, and from the
Dutch painters that (I think) continued
the style later.
Ain't nothin' wrong with thigh high boots!
Puss looks daring and adventuresome! With
some shorter boots (and a mullet), you
could look like Red Sonja!
I looked at a picture of the bloom online,
and it's gorgeous. One more reason to wait
for dawn. Staying awake to that point has
always been one of my favourite things to
do, yet has also always been tinged with
guilt and despair when I hear the birds
start singing; they're letting me know
that all of the next day is wasted.
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but sometimes my heart feels trapped and too big for my ribcage.
could talk about my boy C all day
And that Caravaggio'd walk around his pitch-dark studio holding up a candle, making his models hold poses for hours, to find the perfect point source of light?!?!
And that he lit many of his paintings from the right (as opposed to the left), which [I kid you not] heightens the seeming contrast between dark and light for people who are used to reading right to left) (so strange that our written language affects the way we look at paintings)?!?!?!
C Dawg
and so cool! i DID NOT KNOW about lighting his subjects from the right! it makes sense, though, as it's also a theatre trick i learned for stage setting. creepy how we are programmed. i wonder who decided we should read frm left to right.
Re: C Dawg
i'm on antihistamines!
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my life is not even really so chaotic. it's my brain that is.
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be well lovely one