new painting…
bits from the journey…
ottawa, canada
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flowers from the green house in montreal
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from the train back to nyc
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Maman in Ottawa!
by Louise Bourgeois at the National Gallery of Canada
sat at the market
suddenly it’s raining out… but i brought home the sun with me…
À LA CLAIRE FONTAINE
{untitled, watercolor on paper}
À LA CLAIRE FONTAINE
À la claire fontaine, m’en allant promener,
J’ai trouvé l’eau si belle que je m’y suis baigné.
Il y a lontemps que je t’aime, jamais je ne t’oublierai.
Sous les feuilles d’un chêne, je me suis fait sécher.
Il y a lontemps que je t’aime, jamais je ne t’oublierai.
Sur la plus haute branche, un rossignol chantait.
Il y a lontemps que je t’aime, jamais je ne t’oublierai.
Chante, rossignol, chante, toi qui as le coeur gai;
Tu as le coeur à rire, moi je l’ai à pleurer.
Il y a lontemps que je t’aime, jamais je ne t’oublierai.
J’ai perdu mon ami sans l’avoir mérité.
Pour un bouquet de roses que je lui refusai.
Il y a lontemps que je t’aime, jamais je ne t’oublierai.
Je voudrais que la rose fût encore au rosier,
Et que mon douce ami fût encore à m’aimer
{…from the painted veil (2006) - youtube}
new painting
{… she walks in beauty like the night, 10″ x 20″ mixed media on canvas}
the runaway girl
louise bourgeois at the guggenheim left quite an impression on me…… an impression that’s been daunting me, which has become an obsession and an imprint for various reasons… as i dig with some depth of her works and writings from the past few decades i can’t help but identify with her, both as an artist and as a person whose past has haunted her wherever she goes…
the runaway girl who never grew up
i need no support nor comfort
i need no safety net, no breakfast
no lunch or tea, no visitors, no telephone calls nor little messages
no little concerts, no hype, or encouragement for big projects
no ambitions, no spying on my neighbors
i need nothing… i can wait, i am not afraid, i am an adult
nothing is lacking
~louise bourgeois [from her journal...]
it’s not so much of her style or her gender that i relate to but the driving force of her work: life. how you can take something in your life that does not work into something that works in your art. the work is never finished just as life is never lived if you don’t start somewhere and keep at it…
the world i know…
{2005 fall times square, new york city}
has our conscience shown?
has the sweet breeze blown?
has all the kindness gone?
hope still lingers on
{2005 fall east harlem, new york city}
i drink myself of new found pity
sitting alone in new york city
and i don’t know why
{2005 fall central park, new york city}
are we listening
to hymns of offering?
have we eyes to see
that love is gathering?
all the words that i’ve been reading
have now started the act of bleeding into one……
{2005 fall central park, new york city}
so i walk up on high
and i step to the edge
to see my world below
and i laugh at myself
while the tears roll down
cause its the world i know
its the world i know….
{2005 fall east harlem, new york city}