Great art comes from pain and suffering. Thus, the near starvation, struggling artist. Writers, painters, poets…Our art reflects those with who we live and love. Both kindness and vice.
The need of continuum? Art shall never be beaten by affliction. There will always be another Artist to carry on.
For “Hauling” The Currier Museum commissioned over 100 feet of wall drawings. The exhibition also includes two large-scale works on paper and a 52-foot-long scroll drawing animated by a kinetic sculpture. Curated by Samantha Cataldo, this show is a collaboration with other artists, craftspeople, historians, and New Hampshire citizens. Hauling is inspired by the history of the Manchester region and its people, emphasizing labor and collaboration.
‘Well, this is it!’ In a mirror, in a selfie, in some form of congealed apathy? This is it! Unless, we write about it. Ponder it. Mistake it for being something it isn’t. This is it! And, it is soulfully, up to the artist to render it…make it better.’
I wanted to change the world. But I have found that the only thing one can be sure of changing is oneself.
Maybe this world is another planet’s hell.
It’s dark because you are trying too hard.
Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.
Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply.
Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.
I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig.
Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me.
When it comes to dying even. Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic.
No rhetoric, no tremolos,
no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell.
And of course, no theology, no metaphysics.
Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light.
So throw away your baggage and go forward.
There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet,
trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair.
That’s why you must walk so lightly.
Lightly my darling,
on tiptoes and no luggage,
not even a sponge bag,
It is natural to believe in God when you’re alone– quite alone, in the night, thinking about death.
It’s a little embarrassing that after 45 years of research & study, the best advice I can give people is to be a little kinder to each other.
Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you?” asked Bernard. The Savage nodded. “I ate civilization.”
-There is only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that’s your own self.
“Then you think there is no God?”
“No, I think there quite probably is one.”
“Then why? …”
Mustapha Mond checked him. “But he manifests himself in different ways to different men. In premodern times he manifested himself as the being that’s described in these books. Now …”
“How does he manifest himself now?” asked the Savage.
“Well, he manifests himself as an absence; as though he weren’t there at all.”
I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts