Art

Poetry – Day 22

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National Poetry Month continues, and this poem honors Rainer Maria Rilke.

Photo: Vincent Delsuc/Pexels

INITIATION

Whoever you are, go out into the evening,
leaving your room, of which you know each bit;
your house is the last before the infinite,
whoever you are.
Then with your eyes that wearily
scarce lift themselves from the worn-out door-stone
slowly you raise a shadowy black tree
and fix it on the sky: slender, alone.
And you have made the world (and it shall grow
and ripen as a word, unspoken, still).
When you have grasped its meaning with your will,
then tenderly your eyes will let it go …

~ Rainer Maria Rilke, 1906

Searching for Books

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Are you a reader? Me, too. Sometimes it’s challenging to find the time to read, or sometimes to find the right book for the space we’re in. That can be a tough one.

But then, during all the deliberation of what I want to read at the moment, comes my county’s huge annual book sale. Last year, they had 60,000 books available, in every genre you can imagine.

The only way to do this is to come with a list and try to stick to it, because inevitably there will also be a book by an author you love that you hadn’t thought of; a copy in brand new condition to replace your old, beat-up paperback; or maybe you’ll just want to take a peek at the art section. Or maybe at the cookbooks. Wait – now they have jigsaw puzzles? (Yes, they do.)

The Hunterdon County Library Annual Book Sale is a dangerous place to go. Especially when you can come out with 15 books for $30 or $15, depending if you go Saturday or Sunday.

Last year’s very small haul ($4.50) – I went with a really tight rein on myself, as I’ve been trying to push books out of the house, not bring more in! Two of these were replacement copies – one for one of my top seven favorite books (The Art of Racing in the Rain). I read the rest, and am in the ongoing process with two, which are non-fiction.

What else is nice? Being in such wonderful company, where every person you meet is an avid reader, and where, depending which section you’re in, you can get solid recommendations and insights.

Making my list now ….

Noticing in Times of Abuse

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A gun held to the head of another, albeit lowered, the trigger not pulled, is no less of an abuse, whether to a country or an individual.

However, we can still choose to notice beauty around us, and hope together for a more loving and harmonious world.

Seeing Art – Princeton University Art Museum

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What kind of museum do you want to go to? What do you want to see?

“Fish” – Zhang Hongtu, 1985, Acrylic on Canvas

For me, as an artist, photographer, writer, I want to see art. I want to see what will make my eyes open wider.

“Moonrise” – George Inness, 1888, Oil on canvas

I want to see what will touch my very being and remind me of who I am. Because in today’s intense, fast-moving world, it can be easy to sometimes forget.

“Moon Beam” – Pat Steir, 2005, Oil on canvas

I want to try and understand another human being who looks at the same thing as me, but sees it in such a vastly different way.

L to R – “Tiger Drinking from A Stream” – Yumashiro Yuhi, October 1761, Ink, color, gold pigment on silk; “Bridge to Heaven 2006.2” – Arnold Chang, 2006, Ink on paper; “An Immortal’s Abode Above the Clouds” – Gong Xian, mid 1680s, ink on silk.

I want to see what someone creates who has a totally different life and totally different experiences than me.

“To Be Sold” – Titus Kaphar, 2018, Oil on canvas with rusted nails. References the sale of 6 enslaved persons belonging to a former president of the university on this site, 1761-1766.

I want to get my heart cracked open a little.

“A.M.X.” – Nancy Grossman, 1969-1970, Wood with nailed and stitched leather.

I want to go home and keep thinking for a while, not just of what I saw, but of what the artist stated their intentions were.

“Naga” – Tuan Andrew Nguyen, 2024, Primarily pounded and polished brass plates made from unexploded bomb metal and artillery shells.

I want to take in these feelings from another’s visions, and I want them to call to me, wash over me, not to drown me, but to pull me … me … to the surface.

“Painting” – Willem De Kooning, 1948, Enamel and oil on canvas.

This museum visit is the first chance I’ve had to get out and see art in a while. I’d forgotten how intense an experience it can be. How wonderful.

“Self-Portrait” – Robert Mapplethorpe, 1972, Photo silkscreen

The art pictured here is all from the recently reopened (10/31/2025) Princeton University Art Museum, located on the Princeton, NJ campus. The construction took three years, and was built on the same site where the previous museum had existed and was then razed.

“Dogariya – The Queen’s Guard, from the series Anima Project” – Marcia Kure, 2022, Kola nut, indigo, and watercolor on board.

The PUAM houses both classical and contemporary art from around the world. Art pictured here is only from two small special exhibits, one on photography and another on Willem de Kooning, and a larger exhibit of pieces recently donated or promised upon the reopening. Some of what I photographed was in the hallways connecting exhibits. One could spend days there. I’ll be going back.

Go find some inspiration. See new stuff. Be happy

Find more at the Princeton University Art Museum.

A Life in Lines

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I recently went to the MVC (Motor Vehicle Commission) to get my REAL ID, and was offered the opportunity to have a new license photo taken. Sure, it’s been a while.

There’s nothing like having your photo taken by some official agency to reveal how we’ve aged, how many more lines we’ve added since our last such photograph. In our mirrors at home, we watch a slow and gradual change, so we can almost delude ourselves into thinking we haven’t really aged. It’s a harmless enough delusion.

Once back home, I decided to take an account of my face in the mirror.

There are definitely some lines. Among them, are many, many laugh lines. I know because when I smile, I see which ones they are. I also have squinting lines on my forehead and between my eyebrows, because I have grey eyes, and lighter eyes are always much more sensitive to sun then darker ones.

Some of the lines are simply natural aging, years of skin no longer capable of being taut as it was when I was younger. Pretty routine. I notice there really aren’t frown lines, or a down turned mouth, nothing angry.

But I also know, hidden in those lines, there are times of pain, anxiety, the stress of overcoming things life brought my way, delicate channels for tears. These lines are, to use the words of a friend, my Badge of Courage.

In the end, whether in a harshly lit photo for a driver’s license, in the soft and generous photo taken by a friend, or a selfie, all these lines are no more, no less, than a life lived.