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Showing posts with label Maine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maine. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

"April in Maine" by May Sarton

"Willard's Coat" by Andrew Wyeth, 1968


The days are cold and brown,
Brown fields, no sign of green,
Brown twigs, not even swelling,
And dirty snow in the woods.

But as the dark flows in
The tree frogs begin
Their shrill sweet singing,
And we lie on our beds
Through the ecstatic night,
Wide awake, cracked open.

There will be no going back.


"April in Maine" by May Sarton from Collected Poems. © W.W. Norton & Company, 1993.

Thursday, February 4, 2016

"Blue" by Elizabeth Poliner

"Birch Island, Southwest from Lookout Point, Harpswell" by Henry Isaacs


Great Island, Harpswell, Maine

Clear windy day and
the ocean’s waters rush ahead
singing.

In the distance off the low islands
the white splash of waves.
The clouds,

huge white puffs, stationary
in the bluest
air, seem unreal,

as if imported
and tacked up
by some grand producer.

Oh, the blue
we live in, bright sky
blue, glossy silvery

ocean blue—the blue
we’re permitted:
our essential bed,

our daily blanket—
it’s our home, this life in,
through and around

blue—by plan or chance,
by any account
a wonder, a miracle,

day like today,
the water busy,
noisy and constant

as if no amount of praise
were enough
for our blue, brilliant world.


"Blue" by Elizabeth Poliner from What You Know In Your Hands. © David Robert Books, 2015.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Happy Birthday, Edward Hopper

Yesterday was Edward Hopper's birthday. He lived from 1882 to 1967.

"Self Portrait" 1925-1930

Hopper was an artist most renowned for this iconic painting, one of the most familiar and most parodied works of twentieth century American art.

"Nighthawks" 1942

Because of this one work many think of him as an artist of lonely city scenes. He knew the city, but for many years his studio was in Maine, and he could do a straightforward landscape with the best of them. I love these, and if I were an art critic I might say something about how the heavy brushstrokes bring the subject and the medium into an organic whole, and that to see the painting is to experience the essence of the place.

 "Blackhead, Monhegan" 1916-1919

 "Rocks and Sea" 1916-1919

 "Blackhead, Monhegan" 1916-1919

Hopper once famously said, "Maybe I am slightly inhuman...All I ever wanted to do was to paint sunlight on the side of a house." He could do that.

"Second Story Sunlight" 1960

But look what else he was doing in this and in so many of his other paintings. There is often a sunlit foreground contrasted with a shadowy background. The foreground is composed of human structures and spaces, and the background is composed of an uncompromised natural world.

Look at the trees in these paintings. They were not set out in the lawn by landscapers. No, they pre-date the buildings. They are deep and dark and mysterious, the representation of pure wilderness. Hopper seems to imply that the wild is there waiting for when it can once again reclaim the space that has been usurped by human existence.

"Gas Station" 1940

 "Seven A.M." 1948

This borderline between the wild and the civilized could seem threatening, I suppose, though I don't see it that way, and neither, I suspect, did Hopper. It's the borderline between old and new, convention and creativity, despair and hope, death and life, damnation and salvation. The woods are dark and deep, and you could grant Hopper some ambiguity there: it could  be a dangerous place. But it could also be the great green womb from which one is reborn. And, come to think of it, that could be dangerous.

In "Rooms by the Sea" Hopper gets humorous about it. Using the trackless sea instead of a forest the painting seems to say, "You can't stay inside forever. Take the plunge!"

"Rooms by the Sea" 1951

In "Sun In An Empty Room" Hopper is poignant. There is a way out of the emptiness of artificial existence. There is a place--he gives us just a tantalizing glimpse--where the sun doesn't simply light bare walls, but is the source of all life.

"Sun In An Empty Room" 1963

I found this painting reproduced in a magazine a long time ago. I cut it out, framed it, and hung it on my wall. Through many times in my life when I was "stuck inside" it gave me hope.

"Stairway" 1949

Hopper could have named this painting "Stair Steps" or "Staircase" but he named it "Stairway."  He gives us many encouragements in the composition of the painting: the foreshortened stairs looking almost flat--and easily climbed down; the door as wide open as it could possibly be; and the lush hill outside rising up over our point of view making us wonder what lies on the other side. It's as though that hill is the stairway of the title.

But a stairway to what? Well, that's up to you. But I can say that in many aspects of my life whatever growth and maturity I've achieved over the years can be measured by how well I have learned to not just stand there, but to go down the steps, out the door, and over that hill.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Guest Post: Grand Lake Stream


Good old brother John. He works hard as co-owner of HMH vises but has recently decided that he needs to fish more. He lives in Maine, so has ample wonderful places to wet a line. I have been urging him to send photos of his trips, and this time he came through for us, in spades.

He wrote in an email:
I just got back from a pretty great trip to GLS. Averaged more than a dozen fish per day for five days. (Ed: I'd call that pretty great.)

I inherited the propensity to count fish from Daddy.(Ed: Our Dad, who taught us about trout fishing in Idaho when we lived there as kids in the Fifties.)  He always kept track. I tell myself and others that it's not a competitive thing for me, rather, it's a data thing. It's one measure of how the trip went. But that suggests that quantity is the primary measure of whether a trip was good or not. That's not true, as many of our trips to the Henry's Fork would demonstrate. If it were all about catching lots of fish we would have forsaken the Fork long ago. (Ed: So true.)

I've attached a PDF. If I had a blog it would become a blog post. A reflection of the week. You have my permission, Jim, to use any and all of it as you are able and/or see fit.

(Ed: Wait for it...)

And by the way, the actual number was 70 for the week, biggest just over 18".

I love that last line. Sure, like it's a data thing. I think there's more in there than just an appreciation of data. I think he loves to fish. And having fished with him for years I know he is competitive. But not with other fishermen. He's a modest guy who cares about other people. He didn't even include a photo of himself in the PDF. No, he's not competitive with other fishermen, but he's competitive as hell with the fish.

So I'm happy for you, John. Good one. And thanks for the beautiful post.


GRAND LAKE STREAM, May 2012


Serenity.


First ever. A fish he'll never forget.
C'mon...just a little closer...
In hand.

Break time...
Uh oh...


Everything is good.

Time to find another slot.

 The new stone fly pattern that works. Well.

Rest. Then release. 

 Red biot comparadun Hendrickson showing signs of overwork--a good thing.

One more in the net...

 ...then call it a day.