Donnie: Why do you wear that stupid bunny suit?
Frank: Why are you wearing that stupid man suit?
—-Donnie Darko
Tag Archives: Art
Man’s Heart, Away From Nature, Becomes Hard
“Wherever forests have not been mowed down, wherever the animal is recessed in their quiet protection, wherever the earth is not bereft of four-footed life – that to the white man is an ‘unbroken wilderness.’
But for us there was no wilderness, nature was not dangerous but hospitable, not forbidding but friendly. Our faith sought the harmony of man with his surroundings; the other sought the dominance of surroundings.
For us, the world was full of beauty; for the other, it was a place to be endured until he went to another world.
But we were wise. We knew that man’s heart, away from nature, becomes hard.”
― Chief Luther Standing Bear
A Vision Was Given In My Youth
And I, to whom so great a vision was given in my youth, — you see me now a pitiful old man who has done nothing, for the nation’s hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead.
—-Black Elk, from Black Elk Speaks
Lungs Inflate With the Onrush of Scenery
I Mean, Is This Guy Pissed Off… Or What
“Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything – anger, anxiety, or possessions – we cannot be free.”
― Thích Nhất Hạnh, The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching: Transforming Suffering into Peace, Joy, and Liberation
Here is What You Have Been Given
“They’re in love. Fuck the war.”
― Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow
The old couple, carved from the earth like the first man, sit there, decade after decade, while people walk by and stare at them. It’s been going on so long, they are getting pretty sick of it. It shows in their faces.
“There is an hour when you realize: here is what you have been given. More than this, you won’t receive. And what this is, what your life has come to, will be taken from you. In time.”
― Joyce Carol Oates, Wild Nights!: Stories About the Last Days of Poe, Dickinson, Twain, James, and Hemingway
Cut Him Out in Little Stars
The Masks We Wear
“Masquerades disclose the reality of souls. As long as no one sees who we are, we can tell the most intimate details of our life. I sometimes muse over this sketch of a story about a man afflicted by one of those personal tragedies born of extreme shyness who one day, while wearing a mask I don’t know where, told another mask all the most personal, most secret, most unthinkable things that could be told about his tragic and serene life. And since no outward detail would give him away, he having disguised even his voice, and since he didn’t take careful note of whoever had listened to him, he could enjoy the ample sensation of knowing that somewhere in the world there was someone who knew him as not even his closest and finest friend did. When he walked down the street he would ask himself if this person, or that one, or that person over there might not be the one to whom he’d once, wearing a mask, told his most private life. Thus would be born in him a new interest in each person, since each person might be his only, unknown confidant.”
― Fernando Pessoa
Syncopated Sycophant
Sometimes I like to go to the Art Museum when there is a jazz combo playing. Most people get a table in the atrium, buy a glass of wine, meet some friends… and sip, chat, and nod their heads.
However, I usually end up walking the galleries, listening to the music and gazing at the art. It’s an interesting intersection of the visual and auditory creative channels. Unfortunately, the sound of jazz doesn’t carry all that well and I am restricted to the nearby areas… mostly ancient sculpture of the Americas.
“If you have to ask what jazz is, you’ll never know.”
― Louis Armstrong









