
Such a day…– In the upcoming Little Gems show at West End Gallery
People give pain, are callous and insensitive, empty and cruel…but place heals the hurt, soothes the outrage, fills the terrible vacuum that these human beings make.
― Eudora Welty
I hesitated a moment before inserting the words above from author Eudora Welty. It seems a bit cynical at first glance, seemingly placing negative aspects to all people. But thinking more about it, I could see the sense in it.
After all, our emotional scars inevitably come from other human being, from their callousness and cruelty. As a result, we seek a place in which we feel safe and secure, a place in which we can heal and live beyond the wounds we carry.
We seek a place we can call home.
I see this as a recurring theme in my work. The new piece at the top, Such a day…, very much has that sort of feel for me. It reminds me of times and places in my life when I felt at ease and at peace. Content and safe.
At home.
I have a number of these days, those memorable times and places. But when I consider the number of days spent in my life to date, there are not really that many. Too few, actually. That makes the existing ones even more precious in my mind.
This little painting serves as a constant reminder for me. And that’s all I can ask of it.
Here’s song for this Sunday Morning that has some of that same feel. It’s a version of the Talking Heads‘ This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody) performed by the Postmodern Jukebox featuring vocalist Sara Niemietz. They transform the song into a 1940’s Swing Band version and despite my affinity for the original, it somehow works, albeit in a different way than the original.
I also put up a version of the original with David Byrne. You can see what you think for yourself.
Interesting that we both posted something from Eudora Welty today — and I do enjoy the Postmodern Jukebox.
Perhaps because I’ve moved so often (thinking about it casually, I can come up with 23 different moves, including to a foreign country and a 31′ sailboat), I’ve come to think of wherever I am as “home.” Even if I’m at a hotel, I’ll say to dinner companions at the end of an evening, “Well, I’m going to go home.” Home in that case may be room 324, but it still functions as ‘home.’ Maybe if the whole world is home, a specific location doesn’t matter.
I have been finding myself visiting the Postmodern Jukebox on YouTube on a regular basis these past few weeks. I gotta say I really enjoy their versions of most songs…
Unlike Linda, I’ve only had four addresses since I was old enough to be aware of my home… But, I’ve spent short periods of time in a number of places that had that feel of “Home”. Some were hotel rooms, some were vacation rentals, some were nothing more than a mountain valley or a clearing in the woods… But, all brought that swelling in my chest that said I was home…