“The decision alone to depict something, and thus withdraw it from oblivion, means to put that moment in the centre of attention and shape it.”
That quote was in the wall text at a fabulous art exhibit called
“The Adventure of Reality: Courbet, Cooper, Gursky…” at the Kunsthalle in Munchen earlier this month. The show is moving to Amsterdam, which you can read about through the link.
This is what I am about. What Laundry Line Divine is about. What my art expresses, whether you know it or not. I am transfixed and inspired over and over again by the sublime beauty of daily living. This is why I am bowled over repeatedly by Mary Oliver’s poetry.
Then I read this in my friend Kathy Drue’s notes in FB.
These shriveled seeds we plant,
corn kernel, dried bean,
poke into loosened soil,
cover over with measured fingertips
These T-shirts we fold into
perfect white squares
These tortillas we slice and fry to crisp strips
This rich egg scrambled in a gray clay bowl
This bed whose covers I straighten
smoothing edges till blue quilt fits brown blanket
and nothing hangs out
This envelope I address
so the name balances like a cloud
in the center of sky
This page I type and retype
This table I dust till the scarred wood shines
This bundle of clothes I wash and hang and wash again
like flags we share, a country so close
no one needs to name it
The days are nouns: touch them
The hands are churches that worship the world
~ Naomi Shihab Nye ~
(The Words Under the Words)
Today I picked an apple from a tree I planted here in our yard. It grew from a seedling we had bid on at a silent auction. My friend Christopher and I staked it up, I have fertilized it and tended it for 5 or 6 years. And now, if you just lay your hand on the lovely, plump, ‘Greening’ apples, they will yield to your grip to give you the most delicious, tart Indian Summer bliss you could ever find.
Every apple is a doorway. A tea label. The grin of the old woman in that wheelchair. It is so beautiful.
Do I exaggerate?
I don’t know. Go pick an apple and see for yourself.
All my love, Suzi