Notes:
Fall 2006
I have just returned from a very wet and rainy August spent in Paris. Despite the inclement weather the city revealed her timeless beauty in stunning vistas and in unexpected nooks. Whether it was watching the sun break through the clouds from the top of Sacre Coeur or basking in the luminous splendor of a night cruise on the Seine, it was as always, beautiful.
Although August is quiet in Paris, the cafes were still a lively retreat for lovers seeking refuge from the rain. “Bobos”, (bourgeois bohemians), jammed the streets and sat in the cafes lost in animated conversation over expresso and Galoise cigarettes.
In traveling we get to escape our normal life and in so doing get to glimpse back at it. For me, things that are important gain clarity.
The flat I stayed in belonged to a critic of popular music who writes for the a Parisian Journal. He had a collection of over 4000 CDs to choose from, but I kept going back to one Joni Mitchell song over and over again, Both Sides Now, c1967. The last few lines kept resonating with me.
“Tears and fears and feeling proud,
To say, “I love you”, right out loud.
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I’ve looked at life that way.
Oh, but now old friends they’re acting strange
And they shake their heads
And they tell me that I’ve changed.
Well something’s lost but something’s gained
For living everyday.
I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall.
I really don’t know life at all.”
Her words had a bittersweet message for me. I realized that as a freshman in college I listened endlessly to these lyrics. At that time I knew that they were wonderful but being 18 I could only understand what I “knew” at that time.
Listening again on a rainy afternoon in Paris, 6000 miles and a lifetime away, I understood the profound beauty of her words.
I think this is the gift that art gives us. As a viewer we bring our life experience to the art, and in doing so, for a moment, we share with the artist their truth.
joann
Spring 2006
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
-Mary Oliver
The cycles of the seasons revolve and here we are. From the mantle of fog and rain that has covered Santa Barbara we have burst into spring. There are clear blue skies, warm breezes, birds singing and the abundant explosion of leaves and blossoms scenting the air.
I am beginning to work on a new project which I hope to show in the fall. Actually, I am returning to a series that I started in Aix- en- Provence during my summer visit in 2004. Perhaps being alone that summer and outside of the country gave me a clear awareness of how small our planet is and how desperately we need to awaken to a global consciousness.
Being that my french is rather limited, I spent a lot of my time watching the International CNN, the only English speaking program I could get. Seeing our country in relationship to the world and how we are perceived from outside, was very illuminating. It is difficult to stand back and see the beauty and the tragedy that exists all around us in the world, but awakening to it is probably the first step.
I am including Mary Oliver’s poem, Wild Geese, it is one of my favorites. I like it because it gives me a sense of forgiveness, wonder and hope, something I think we could all use.
jo