It’s New Year’s Day. We’ll attempt to shake off the stink and wreckage of the Year 2020, as difficult as that may be, and move into the new year. We see 2021 coming at us all clean and shiny with that new year smell. An optimistic outlook and a year filled with endless possibilities.
Well, that’s the popular belief, what we hold onto in order to get through the day.
Yes, there are brighter days ahead but there are some darker ones as well, especially in the next few months. But we must maintain faith in who we are as a people, believing in truth, equality, and justice. We must have the willpower to reject the ignorance, selfishness, misinformation, and nativist hatred so much on display in recent times.
Yes, we are off-balance and wounded as we come into this new year. But we have the balance and strength to withstand troubles and if we maneuver the coming days with grace and wisdom, perhaps our optimism will become more tangible and less wishful thinking.
The song, New Year’s Prayer, is from the late Jeff Buckley, who in his short life left us a remarkable version of the Leonard Cohen song, Hallelujah, and much more. This song has a mantra-like feel to it with the phrase … feel no shame for what you are… as a refrain. It doesn’t look forward or back with any hope or regret– it is just in the moment. And that’s how I feel about the turning of this year. What will be, will be.
Wishing you all a good New Year with the hope that feel no shame for what you are.
“A Time For Leaving”- At the Principle Gallery, Alexandria, VA
My famous last words Could never tell the story Spinning unheard In the dark of the sky
–If This Is Goodbye, Mark Knopfler
I don’t feel like saying much today so let’s move right on to the music selection for this Sunday morning. I wanted something to fit with the painting above. A Time For Leaving, which is headed down to the Principle Gallery for their upcoming small works show. I went through a lot of music but nothing jumped out at me.
There were two finalists in my mind. One was from the wonderful collaboration between Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris, If This Is Goodbye. The other was a track, Leaving the Table, from Leonard Cohen‘s great final album, You Want It Darker. Both did the job for me so I decided to share both.
If you’d like, give a listen. If not, move on. Either way, try to have a peaceful day.
“Human beings, whatever their backgrounds, are more open than we think, that their behavior cannot be confidently predicted from their past, that we are all creatures vulnerable to new thoughts, new attitudes.
And while such vulnerability creates all sorts of possibilities, both good and bad, its very existence is exciting. It means that no human being should be written off, no change in thinking deemed impossible.”
― Howard Zinn, You Can’t Be Neutral on a Moving Train: A Personal History of Our Times
“It is a happy faculty of the mind to slough that which conscience refuses to assimilate.”
― William Faulkner, Light in August
Yesterday was an interesting day. A good day.
A good and decent man and a strong and smart woman of mixed race and immigrant parents were declared the victors in our presidential election. Throughout the country and around the world spontaneous celebrations took place with throngs of people ( almost all masked, by the way) taking to the streets. A total release of emotion. Dancing. Singing. Banging drums and honking car horns.
A cacophony of joy.
In Paris and other cities around the world the church bells tolled.
I would like to think that witnessing this explosion of celebration might cause those who have steadily supported the divisive rhetoric and vindictiveness of the current president*** watched this and wondered how his loss could have possibly triggered such elation and joy. I would like to think that it made them feel cracks taking place in the shield of the cognitive dissonance they have maintained for the past four years, being fed as they have been a steady diet of pure falsehoods and subsisting on beliefs and .conspiracies that do not align with any sort of reality.
Living in their self-contained bubbles doesn’t allow them to even consider the possibility that their reality is not everybody’s reality.
I have to admit this applies to both sides to some extent. But the blind allegiance to the lies, vitriol and cruelty of this president*** is beyond anything seen on the other side. It is complete acceptance of every lie as truth even when their own eyes tell them it is not so. Their support for him even when confronted with facts is an amazing bit of pretzel logic that rationalizes his every action. In the four years since his election I have yet to hear anyone speak of their support for him in anything but broad generalizations and mischaracterizations of events.
They want to believe so hard that their kind rejects the reality that is before them.
I think yesterday went a long way toward bursting that bubble for some of those folks. Not all, of course. There were counter-demonstrations, though much smaller and less ebullient. And largely unmasked. Even when it comes to their health and a raging deadly pandemic, many still refuse to accept the reality that is so apparent to all others.
But for many, it had to be illuminating to see how country and the world reacted. It wasn’t a reaction to a political victory. People celebrated when Obama was elected but even that was dwarfed by yesterday’s outpouring.
This was a reaction similar to the winning of a world war or the toppling of a tyrant. It looked like something from a movie where the citizens of Earth have turned away an alien invasion.
To witness that from the other side had to be a mix of bitterness and bewilderment, probably wondering how so many people could be so wrong. And probably even more so, if they watched President-elect Biden’s speech last night, heard him speak in positive terms about unity and moving ahead together. Where was the anger? There was no promise of American carnage, no threat of retribution or revenge. Not raging with grievances. No us and them.
It was an extended hand and a promise to speak to and for all Americans. It was sane and calm and delivered in terms of unity and future built on hope, not fear.
It most likely didn’t resemble in any way the strawman that they come to fear and hate. The future he spoke of includes them, doesn’t push them to the side or minimize their concerns.
Like I said, yesterday was probably a day of illumination for some. The future doesn’t have to be dark, doesn’t have to be built on demonizing or blaming others. It can be okay, maybe even better than okay.
All they have to do is allow the possibility that there is sometimes another way of thinking about things.
Hopefully, yesterday cracked some bubbles and some new light was shed on their minds. Like Howard Zinn, whose words are at the top of the page, I believe in the potential for people to change their way of thinking.
Okay, enough. I am writing this off the top of my head so I apologize if this is not as concise or focused as I would like.
For this Sunday morning music let’s go with a song, Anthem, from Leonard Cohen whose message is most fitting today for this post:
Ring the bells (ring the bells) that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack in everything (there is a crack in everything) That’s how the light gets in
Have a good day. There will be tough days ahead, but let’s hope there are many more good ones to come.
It seemed the better way When first I heard him speak Now it’s much too late To turn the other cheek
Sounded like the truth Seemed the better way Sounded like the truth But it’s not the truth today
–Leonard Cohen, It Seemed the Better Way
Come on in. It’s safe here today. No commentary, even though the lyrics of the song I am featuring have something to say on their own. But even that is subject to your own interpretation.
I will spare you mine.
The song I am featuring today really struck a chord with me this morning. It is from the 2016Leonard Cohen album, You Want It Darker, which was the last before his death in November of that same year.
A lot of things died that November.
I am sorry. That was commentary.
This song is called It Seemed the Better Way and it features the cantor and male chorus from the Montreal synagogue that Cohen attended as a child. At the time of the song’s release, he described the lyrics of this song as “The feeling of a prayer that’s been there forever, but the spiritual comforts of the past no longer available.“
It raises a lot of philosophic questions. But I’ll let you work on those without my input today.
I thought I would accompany this song with a painting at the top that borrows the title and tone of another Leonard Cohen song. It’s Night Comes On and is currently at the West End Gallery. This is one of those personal pieces, those paintings that keep me coming back to look again and again. There seems to be something in these sort of paintings for me that is beyond its shape and form and color and line. It holds something just beyond my comprehension but I somehow understand that it is there even though I don’t yet understand it.
And I may never understand it. Maybe that’s the point.
If you know what it is, let me know. And if not, I certainly understand that, as well.
I enjoyed the time spent not writing the blog this week. It allowed me to readjust things a bit, put some things back into my personal rotation that I had let slip in recent times. It was time to examine things and think a bit without feeling the need to send it out into the world. Read a bit. Listen to some music that I had slipped by me.
There will be time in days ahead to talk about such things. Today, I am back briefly just to introduce this week’s Sunday morning music. It’s a song from the last album from Leonard Cohen just before his death in 2016 at the age of 82.
It’s titled You Want It Darker.
With its ominous bass line and its focus on our mortality mixed with Old Testament imagery and a , it seems fitting for these times.
One of the words used in the chorus of the song is Hineni, the Hebrew word meaning Here I am. It was the response from Moses to God speaking to him through the burning bush. It was the answer from Abraham to the voice of God who then instructed him to slay his son. And it was the response from Isaiah when he hears the voice of God ask, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” It is generally an indication of faith and total commitment without question while awaiting one’s appointed task.
Here, Cohen seems to be questioning God. He’s not asking the listener if they want it darker. Seeing the way the world has descended into darkness, he is grilling God, almost questioning whether this deepening darkness is somehow the desire of God. There’s an edge of anger when he asks and replies: You want it darker/ We kill the flame.
It’s a powerful song, one that haunted me this past week. It reminds me that we are in for some trying times in the months ahead and that we need to be fully prepared to endure whatever is thrown our way.
Ready to say, with total commitment, Hineni— Here I am.
I went down to the place where I knew she lay waiting Under the marble and the snow I said, Mother I’m frightened, the thunder and the lightning I’ll never come through this alone She said, I’ll be with you, my shawl wrapped around you My hand on your head when you go And the night came on, it was very calm I wanted the night to go on and on But she said, go back, go back to the world
—Leonard Cohen, Night Comes On
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I finished the painting above earlier this week, a 20″ by 20″ canvas piece that really spoke to me as I was painting it. All the time I was working on it, I had a song running in my head– Here Comes the Night from Them, the Northern Irish band of the 1960’s that featured Van Morrison. Great song with a memorable chorus that really seemed to align with what I was seeing in this piece. Here Comes the Night was the title I mentally attached to this painting while working on it.
But after I was finished with the painting and spent a few days looking at it in the studio, something about the title gnawed at me. For some unknown reason Here Comes the Night as a title just didn’t feel right any more. But I knew there was something in this painting that jibed with a song in my mind, some song that used night in its title and resonated with me personally.
I strained for a couple of days going through night songs that came to mind but none of them were right. It was one of those times when you come across the right answer you will immediately know it.
That time came early this morning. I came into the studio with the title Night Comes On stuck in my mind. I was pretty sure it was from an old Leonard Cohen song that I hadn’t heard in years and had mostly lost in the mossy mire of my brain. But as soon as I put it on, the lyrics flooded back to me, reminding me that it was a song that always cried out to me whenever I heard it.
I knew immediately that it was the right choice. And not just for the lyrics.
While listening to the song and looking at the painting, I realized that the sky and the moon in this painting related directly to a dream that I had several years ago. I am hesitant to share the dream, as its personal and there’s a small superstitious part of me that fears I will weaken the power of that dream if I tell it aloud.
I will say that it came to at a point where I was filled with uncertainty, especially about my place in this world as an artist. I was in between my two annual shows and felt absolutely worthless and creatively impotent. I felt hopelessly paralyzed.
But one night this dream came to me with sense of great calmness and a wisdom that I most certainly never knew in my waking life. I was instantly soothed, my immediate worries evaporating. In the years since it appeared, this dream has remained a source of calm when I am stressed out. This dream marked a change in how I saw myself and what I do. A change that brings with it a calmness and acceptance.
There is something in the sky of this painting that is pulled directly from that dream. I didn’t see it until I heard this song this morning and then that was all I could see. It gives me chills– in a good way.
Here’s the Leonard Cohen song. Time for me to go back to the world.
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove Dance me to the end of love Dance me to the end of love
—Leonard Cohen, Dance Me to the End of Love
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The painting above, 8″ by 16″ on canvas, is a smaller piece headed to my upcoming solo show at the West End Gallery. The intertwined trees in this piece refer back to my Baucis and Philemon paintings which are are symbolic representations of the Greek myth of the poor elderly couple who show the god Zeus unlimited kindness when he shows up in their village dressed as a beggar. He spares their lives alone when he destroys the village and rewards them with an eternity bound together as two trees on a hill.
This piece definitely reminds me of the tale. Maybe it’s the deep and dark threat that is posed from the clouds. Perhaps these clouds represent the wrath of Zeus while the clearing sky on the horizon represents eternity.
I don’t know for sure.
But it is a striking piece, one that is very simple to take in yet has the depth I want for it.
I am calling it Dance Me to the End of Love after the song chosen for this Sunday morning music. It is from Leonard Cohen from 1984. Interestingly, the song has Greek roots, its composition following that of a Greek folk dance performed through the centuries by members of the butcher’s guilds. It is often referred to as the Hasapiko, translating to the Butcher’s Dance.
So, give a listen. Have a good day, okay?
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Moments and Color, my annual solo exhibit at the West End Gallery in Corning, NY, opens on Friday, July 12 with an opening reception running from 5-7:30 PM. It is, as always, open to the public.
Just came across a really nice video that was filmed in late June. It was part of the Luminato Festival in Toronto, which has become one of the largest arts festivals in North America since beginning 10 years ago.
The film shows an event organized by Choir!Choir!Choir! which is a Toronto based open choir. It requires no commitment and meets twice a week in the back of a local pub. Over the years it has performed publicly in many venues with an expanded choirs made up of folks who just want to get out and sing in a communal kind of way.
The song shown here is Hallelujah from Leonard Cohen, a magnificent song that has been interpreted by many artists–I think that the late Tim Buckley’s version is extraordinary. This particular version is filmed in a decommisoned power plant with an assembled choir of 1500 people with Rufus Wainwright singing the lead.
Just a lovely version of the song and not a bad way to kick off a Tuesday morning.
All the Men will be sailors then, until the sea shall free them…
—Leonard Cohen, Suzanne
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I call this new painting, a 7″ by 5″ piece on paper, Until the Sea Shall Free Them, which is taken from the lines of the Leonard Cohen song Suzanne. The song’s sound, pace and feeling really jibe well with what I see in this piece so I felt taking the title from one of its lines was very fitting.
This is one of those pieces that has a composition that I connect with on an emotional level before it actually says anything to me on an conscious or intellectual level. In other words, I like it before I can figure out why. And there is something very satisfying in that.
And mystifying. I generally want to know the why behind something. But sometimes it is just better to enjoy the now and forget the why. And that is what I am doing with this painting.
It’s New Year’s eve tonight and we’ll shake off the dust of yet another year and move into the next, all clean and shiny with that new year smell. Well, that’s the popular belief. We are, of course, who we are and no amount of calendar voodoo will alter that.
But that’s okay. We should be okay with ourselves and just ride along on the tides of time. Good and bad things happen along the way and both can be tolerated if we just can understand and accept who we are.
I think that’s why I chose this painting at the top and the song below to end 2014. The painting is titled Brighter Days Ahead and has a brightness and optimism that jibes well with its title. But the darkness underneath gives it some balance that keeps it from being too giddily gleeful.
Yes, there are brighter days ahead but there are some darker ones as well. But having a belief in who we are, believing that we have the balance and strength to withstand troubles and accept the good with grace makes this brightness seem more tangible and less wishful thinking.
The song, New Year’s Prayer, is from the late Jeff Buckley who in his short life left us a remarkable version of the Leonard Cohen song, Hallelujah, and much more. This song has a mantra-like feel to it with the phrase … feel no shame for what you are… as a refrain. It doesn’t look forward or back with any hope or regret– it is just in the moment. And that’s how I feel about the turning of this year.
Wishing you all a good New Year with the hope that feel no shame for what you are.
Just came across a really nice video that was filmed in late June. It was part of the 
All the Men will be sailors then, until the sea shall free them…
Redtree Times 