Thursday, December 5, 2013

Winter's Approach


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Generally I try and give straightforward titles to my paintings and drawings, but today I've made an exception.  The expression on this young woman's face, and her sideways glance, just seems so perfect for the title!

Today a friend, a successful painter, made this casual comment: "I try to make paintings I would like to own - a formula that has worked well for me." I found this remark really helpful. Must pin it up somewhere in my studio...

 Here is a poem about the approach of winter that I especially like:
Lines for Winter
by Mark Strand 
Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself—
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon's gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back
and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.

7 comments:

  1. Lovely drawing, lovely poem, Taryn!

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    1. Thanks Amy, for your comments and for reading the poem!

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  2. drawing is really good but I am afraid the winner is the poem. I am so glad you put it in. "Under the small fire of winter stars" - perfection!

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    1. Julie, I was trying to drum up a title by looking around for a good winter poem, and while it didn't help with the title, this poem took my breath away. So glad you liked it!

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  3. I love your drawings-and I think that word is way overused - but I really do!

    *One of my favourite poems as well and inspiration for paintings done last winter.

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  4. Thank you Jan- so glad to hear that you've found inspiration from this poem. I've only just discovered Mark Strand.

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  5. I'm a born and raised New England girl and this is my first winter 'home' after ten seasons in Florida.
    I love it. The cold, the snow, the crisp night sky, the birds at my feeder. I just cross my fingers that the power doesn't quit for more than ten frightening minutes before I get my natural gas powered generator in place…. the poem speaks to me.

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