Showing posts with label order. Show all posts
Showing posts with label order. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Tuesday evening

Perhaps a bit out of order. But it all adds up nicely.

1. A late afternoon walk just now on the fire trail with my sweet Desie who chased sticks and pinecones and played with other dogs and romped around on her own usually with a too large and cumbersome stick in her mouth and mostly stayed close by and ran ahead and came running back when I called her.

2. A late morning hike at Fort Cronkite with Shanan and Heather and Goose and Desie on Thanksgiving and the fun we had trekking up and then down the hill and all the time watching the dogs doubling back and forth and up and down ahead of us and sometimes off trail and then finding their way back to us.

3. This morning’s yoga-pilates class with my teacher Maryam and all the determination and hard work and bridges and downward facing dogs and how much fun it is after class to talk with my fellow student Jason who is a senior majoring in Landscape Architecture and who plays a game of pick up basketball before our class begins about how hard the class is but oh so good for us.

4. Too much pressure and worry this semester and especially right now because my students are struggling with their work and there are only two weeks left until their portfolios with 15-17 pages of excellent writing are due.

5. Much appreciation for my dear friend Emily for understanding when I told her I was out of sorts because I did not have a book I was in love with [in the middle of a crowd at Berkeley Bowl where she was shopping with her father-in-law on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving] and for delivering within an hour two books that she loved for me to read.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Monday morning

Thinking about things:

Cleaning up for making order.

I vacuumed two times yesterday morning. Upstairs. With my blue canister Miele vacuum. [Dear Desie is shedding like crazy.] And I washed some of the large windows in the dinning room. [They were so dusty with abandoned spider webs that I had not noticed before. I think the sun has shifted a bit to make for new awarenesses.] And I polished off the layer of rust that had gathered once again on the grill on my very old O'Keefe and Merritt stove. [I do not understand what makes this rust formation happen. I know I spill water sometimes when I make my very strong coffee with my Chemex coffee maker each morning, but I always wipe it up. This rust seems to happen--to gather itself--suddenly.] This kind of cleaning up makes for a momentary pristine [or is it perspicaciuous] positioning for the day ahead.

In the early afternoon I worked in my study for a while preparing for my Salon and College Writing classes. I am all set for Salon III on Thursday but I still must read logs for class today. Then I took Desie for a pretty good walk. Just a pretty good walk because we covered only about three-forths of one of our routes. [It was very warm and Desie was panting as she trotted along beside me. She and I had played catch with her orange ball that we use exclusively in our yard for retrieving four or five times earlier in the day and just before we left. And to be frank, I was tired too, although I was not panting.] Upon our return, Desie sunned herself on the grass [still panting for a time] while I vacuumed [as best I could] the interior of my car with my dilapidated grey canister Electrolux vacuum cleaner that I keep in garage for this purpose alone. [Remember: Desie has been shedding like crazy of late.] And then, I washed the exterior of my car. It took a lot of rubbing to get all of the dirt off of this beautiful car of mine. [I must admit I was tardy in undertaking this chore.] I like to have a clean car, you know.

Oh my goodness. Lots of cleaning up things on a lovely Sunday.

Here is a bit more about making order:
I read about Ursus Wehrli this morning on NPR. A piece called Extreme Tidying Up by Robert Krulwich . Below is one of Wehrli's sortings. It is interesting:


As Krulwich put it:

But who, upon encountering a pine branch, would think to break it into sub-branches, and then separate and sort the needles? (Though it's kind of fascinating that the needle count on the two branch pairs are precisely equal.)

Pretty wonderful. This all adds up.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Saturday Morning

Thinking about things:

Jupiter, the largest planet in the solar system, leads the Moon across the sky tonight.*

So says those who know about these things. [And even before they happen.] This is remarkable. To have this kind of knowledge and understanding about the order of things on such a grand scale.

And even more, this idea of Jupiter leading the Moon across the sky:

I imagine Jupiter looking back and checking on the Moon every once in a while. Checking to be sure she is close by and finding her way in the star-lit darkness. If necessary, I am sure, Jupiter will call upon nearby stars for some added brightness for her to be certain their journey tonight stays on course and they arrive on time in the dawn. This is a thoughtful fatherly Jupiter looking after a beloved daughterly moon.

I like to know how things will be before they happen. I like to understand what to expect on my journeys so I feel safe and comfortable. And not startled by things unknown to me when they come close by suddenly.

Here is an image I have been wanting to write about for a long time. It makes me happy to behold because everyone pictured seems so intent on doing what needs to be done to insure a fine day. And so many things are involved: excellent balance [man and bird and dogs], tenacious uprightness [man and bird and dogs], earnest concentration leaning in on trust [man and bird and dogs], and simplicity in the surroundings for beauty [trees and sky and wall]. And there are even dots for joy on the dogs.



Dogs in a Pram
Annora Spence
1999

* from StarDate on NPR

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Tuesday early afternoon


Thinking about my practice of borrowing and sometimes cropping other people's images.

This time it is a row of buildings I have refashioned. Here is one section of one building after I have had my way with it:

Florian Afflechbach
excerpt from Praca de Luis de Camoes
pencil drawing with water colour

Such lovely patterns and faint contrasts. And thoughtfully muted colors. On its own, separated as it is from its original structure and neighborhood, it exhibits a solid and strong presence.

As you know, I like to borrow beautiful images like this one to think and write about. I borrow them because they are so beautiful. And sometimes I crop them. Thankfully, the artists have given me permission to work over their representations of beauty. They tell me they enjoy my meandering words about their restructured drawings.

And so here is what I am thinking about all of this:

I like to play around with images. To consider possible ways of re-shaping them in a manner to suit my thinking at a particular time. I like to figure out a new ordering of meanings for the composition. One that furthers along my own ideas about beauty.

And too, these cropping endeavors of mine provide blessed time for me to crop away at my own thoughts, to re-envison and re-consider things. Hopefully, to move things around so I can find ways to lighten up my worries and give weight to my joys. It's like a bit of tidying up. And as you know, I like things to be tidy.

And then, I get to push together the two when I write about the image and the thoughts that have come to mind. Conjoined, the two share a place for further study and enjoyment.

another excerpt from the same drawing of Praca de Luis de Cameos

Monday, August 1, 2011

Monday morning


Thinking about things: Borrowing from the title The Interesting List from Edward Gorey:


Illustration by Edward Gorey for the unfinished and unpublished book
The Interesting List


Good Morning List:
  1. do some writing of my own: perhaps take some important advice from Gorey: "There he put a new nib in his pen, took a sheet of his best paper, raised the lid of his inkwell, and began to write."
  2. take Desie and Goose for a walk: be sure to be careful
Maybe today, maybe tomorrow list:
  1. drive a Mini Cooper S: an ice blue one
  2. shop for clothes
  3. go to the deYoung
  4. read the book I am reading [on the porch]

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Tuesday Morning

Thinking about things:

Perhaps it is the straightforwardness of beauty and its way of bringing to mind some forgotten understanding in need of remembering.

Here is lovely image for wondering about beauty [and what it is made of] and imagining a fine day on this Tuesday.


Gerard Michel

Clermont-sur-Berwinne

[water colour]

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Sunday morning

Thinking about things: 1. imagining and re-imagining 2. borrowing 3. order and beauty

Samuel F. B. Morse Gallery of the Louvre, 1831–1833, oil on canvas.
[click for larger image of the painting]

Beginning on Sunday, June 3, the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., will exhibit Samuel Morse's painting Gallery of the Louvre. The American better known for inventing the telegraph and the communication code that bears his name, painted the large work — it's 6 feet tall and 9 feet wide — starting in 1831, while living in Paris.

David McCullough writes about Morse and his painting in his new book, The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris. McCullough says Morse created the painting in order to show Europe's great works of art to Americans:

There were no museums here, as yet, in the 1830s, and no color representations of paintings. So he was going to bring the culture of Europe — mainly the Renaissance Italian masterpieces in the Louvre collection — back to the United States for the benefit of his countrymen.

He had to go through the entire collection of the Louvre, which was enormous, but well over a thousand paintings, and pick out those masterpieces which he thought merited the attention of his countrymen back home. So it's his pick of the Louvre masterpieces, and it includes most of the major Italian Renaissance painters. Titian and Leonardo da Vinci and Rembrandt to be sure, and others. He had to not only reduce them down to miniature size in the painting, but he had to capture the essence of their style and their genius.

It was an extremely ambitious undertaking because many of the paintings that he was copying were hung very high up. And so he had to build a movable platform, or scaffold, that he wheeled about the galleries of the Louvre to reach his subjects.

In Gallery of the Louvre, Morse shows a large red-colored room, its walls hung with more than three dozen works of art. McCullough says the works themselves were all on view at the Louvre, but not in the same room.

[Excerpt from NPR: The Best Of The Louvre, On A Single Canvas]

This story is about imagining. And re-imagining. And doing something about it: Mr. Morse with his devotion and hard work to make this painting. Mr. McCullough with his learned and thoughtful interpretation of history and the discrete deeds of people who made their marks on their times. And NPR with its honoring of all of this.

This story is about borrowing: from The Louvre, from historical records, from the National Gallery of Art, from McCullough's The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris, and from NPR, among others.

And this story is about order and beauty: paintings and rooms and historical documents and newly imagined words.

[Visit The Best Of The Louvre, On A Single Canvas at NPR.org for more.]

Friday, July 1, 2011

Friday morning almost noon

Beauty abounds:

Liège, à l'angle des rues de la Régence et de l'Étuve
Clément Pirnay, architecte
by Gerard Michel

This is a small section of the drawing. I think lined paper for drawing and painting makes for a lovely background:

Friday morning


Thinking about things:

Southern Gardens
Paul Klee
1936

Lots of geography here. And a noteworthy and ambiguous perspective. Looking down on it all and looking across to the horizon. And those mostly green and rust-red tree-like images as though they have found their way on their own.

Everything is right up next to everything. Leaning in--one on the other. Even so, each prominent and looking happy to be just where it is. And that would include those six muted brown and green squares up north and to the west and that lone green square in the southeast. This must be a family of sorts.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Tuesday morning

Thinking about things: boundaries and barriers and awarenesses and a bit of bravery

a chronology of ideas: 1. a sentence given to me by one of my graduate students last evening at the end of class: MEJOR SOLA QUE MAL ACOMPAÑADA. [BETTER ALONE THAN IN BAD COMPANY.] 2. a sentence from a card I have propped up on my mantelpiece that I took a look at when I got home from my class last evening because I had mentioned it to my student: QUIT WICKED COMPANY. 3. a sentence on a card that I also mentioned to my student that resides in a box of notes I keep on the mantlepiece next to the propped up card: BE NOT FORGETFUL TO ENTERTAIN STRANGERS: FOR THEREBY SOME HAVE ENTERTAINED ANGELS UNAWARES. [HEBREWS 13.1]. 4.Chronology and geography have come together here. I think Bakhtin would be happy to see this. 5. I will take my cards to class tomorrow to show my student.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Thursday early afternoon


Thinking about things: REVISED

This is a photo of my writings on the chalkboard yesterday.



Here is a list of some of what it says:

a tree and a star [did you know that every time a tree is cut down in the forest, a star falls from heaven?]
contemplation over time COT
cuatwoo for mm [coming up against the words of others for meaning making]
literature and writing
H & V [horizontal and vertical]
the writing process
legitimacy trust assent
* [my star]
V.I [very important]

When I teach, I like to have certain words of thematic import present for looking at and thinking about for my students and me and for touching [on my part] when I want them "to see" what I am saying. And hopefully notice its place among the other words and images that represent my thinking about teaching [and learning] literature and writing.

And just so you know, I love writing on chalkboards. I love how it feels to hold the chalk and push down solidly to make my upright letters. And I do like to make my words look beautiful. For me. And, in turn, for my students. Sometimes, I step away from the board and look at what I have created and think to myself how wonderful these words are--all over the place but chiefly in a particular order and with a particular purpose. aka: cuatwoo for mm.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Tuesday morning


Thinking about things:

It is quiet and warm this early morning.
Wouldn't it be grand to have an evening that looks just like this lovely image:

scende la sera [evening is falling]

by Leowincy

Nuvole rade
disegnano l'azzurro del cielo
[sparse clouds
draw the blue sky]

[excerpt from Franco Pastore]

Monday, June 20, 2011

Monday morning

Thinking about things: placing words upon the page for remembering

Dresden
Frauenkirche
Une semaine en Allemagne
by Gerald Michel

This lovely drawing brings to mind the schematica I sometimes create in the early morning at my desk to documenrt on paper how it is I see my thoughts for the day. Of course my word sketches are done with my blue fountain pen and one of my Mirado Black Warrior pencils and sometimes a bit of fine line lilac highlighting where I deem necessary. These maps, I as have come to call them, are filled with flourishes: underlines and stars and encircled numbers and boxes sketched around promising words and phrases. I might, for example, work on an idea I have for my teaching. Or as I did just last night, devise a chart for my Salon II & III classes that includes participants' names, class dates and bookkeeping information, and lists and lists of ideas and themes and texts for considering. With this notemaking practice, I can both think and keep track of that thinking. Once recorded, my thoughts and the weight I have given them on the page make for an image for re-collecting my words and ideas whenever I need them.

This morning I have been working on a horizontal charting for my graduate course that begins today. In this case, I need horizontal framing to represent time and to enact the notion of over time. All learning, as you know, takes time and is recursive: the individual always always moves forward as she makes sense of each of her encounters with others. She will, of course, have to endure a few missteps, moments of aloneness, and sometimes even an abrupt fall. Over time, though, she will hopefully notice and analyze and interpret and think even more and endure and understand what has transpired and how she sees herself and her world anew.

This morning's schemata making will help me conjure up what I have in mind for my students today and across the course this summer. I will add to it as need be. It is a mapping of opportunities and possibilities for teaching and learning. It will end up attached to my annotated syllabus [also marked up with blue pen notations everywhere] I will have ready when I teach.

What follows is an excerpt from one of my eighth grade students' comments about “the mapping” she did in my English class. This girl's ideas and imagery make me happy.

The map we write and record really relaxes my mind. It is a way of getting all of my thought and feelings out on paper. Sometimes I feel like my mind can’t hold much more and I have to relieve it. Doing maps is my way of relaxing. Have your read the 4th Harry Potter book? Well, Dumbledore has a bowl called a pensieve where he relieves his memory, and maps are like my pensieve. I can always replay things (look on the map) and find trends and patterns very easily.

Megan 2001

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Thursday early afternoon


Thinking about things:

a borrowed image from my dear friend Lauren's calendar

Most especially about time.
I begin teaching my graduate course in Literature and Writing on Monday. This will mean lots of time spent preparing, reading over theoretical texts and reading and making my blue stars on my students' daily writings about the ideas and texts we study.

I am thinking I need to orchestrate my days so that I will absolutely have time for my writing and walking sweet Desie [and me] in the early evenings [most especially on Mondays and Wednesdays after class].

Monday, June 13, 2011

Monday morning

Thinking about things:

According to my dictionary, the consequence of serendipity is sometimes a brilliant discovery.

Neupetershain
pencil drawing with water colour
by Florian Afflerbach

This drawing greeted me just this morning. Another fortuitous gift to remind me about simple beauty. And serenity [especially for me] evoked with colour and place. The little house on the right looks quite comfortable. It looks to me like the house I have been dreaming of for me and Desie to retire in. Quite the proper size and shape for us. Though I might have to add a window or two beneath the eaves for more light. I can imagine the sun's straight beams moving across the floor to mark the hours of our days. The door is perfect as it is. Its soft blue grey shade made of the sky's reflection and stone frame will welcome our family and friends.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Thursday morning


Paul Klee makes me happy. And to think this image represents/is named by him "flora on the sand" and looks as it does. Klee put everything in its rightful place--for him--and for us to consider and wonder about. This image of his makes for joyous musings.

Flora on the Sand
Paul Klee
1927

Flora on the Sand: Remembrances of dwarf wild flowers standing bravely amid the sandy shores of the Tuolumne River in the meadow by Soda Springs on our way to Glen Aulin. Late June. Wild flowers all over the place, holding their heads up to gather sunshine while their summer days are with them. Farther down the trail and away from the river, as if in a memorial like meadow of its own, white corn lilies everywhere. Later, we would find out that such a mighty blooming of these flowers happens only every few years in the high country. These white lilies need a perfect match of conditions for blooming.

Those days the sun set late. After our hikes, we bought ice cream at the canvas clad tent store by our campground before we walked to our campsite for dinner. Tired and happy, with the sweetnesses and labors of the day collected in the dust on our boots and socks and legs, we sat on granite rocks out in front of the store watching the meadow.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Wednesday morning


Thinking about today and how it will be. With this adored image I have kept in waiting for quite a while. [I love how these kept images of mine seem to find their places on their own. Like unexpected gifts. Like sudden remembrances.]

Kindnesses abound amid difficulties and worries. Some of us [I] want to keep track of the kind persons who [bravely] show up and present themselves and their words.

Jean-Jacques Sempé

Here is one now who has brought some [beloved] blue flowers to this woman who stoops gracefully as she fusses with things in her well cared for nursery. He stands at the doorsill of this shelter of hers. Of this world of unruffled red. He appears to be intent on delivering this gift of himself to her. Others have already brought words and sweetness that drift and turn in her head and cause her to think of that which is beyond/outside of this safe house [of her own making] as she busies herself with important work to be done. Indeed, his blue flowers will contrast unexpectedly with the red ones.

Thinking about dear Mary Ann Kassier and sweet sweet Emily Kassier.

Cover from The New Yorker February 6, 2006 [A fine example of all lined up for safety.]

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Wednesday morning



James Stevenson on writing about his early experiences at the New Yorker Magazine [excerpted from The New Yorker Confidential New York Times January 4, 2011]:

I was assigned assorted chores, including sharpening pencils. I took special care with pencils for E.B. White’s office. When, after a few weeks, his pencils never got duller, I made inquiries, and discovered that he lived in Maine.

As for me, I like writing with pencils. I do my best writing with a sharp pencil. And a good eraser close by.

I write just about everything I write with pencils--except for when I mark my students' papers with my blue fountain pen [stars and underlines] to make note of their excellent words and ideas. These marks need permanency. But, when I mark my suggestion on their papers, I write with a pencil: slow down, I write. Or please check the order of ideas or Now expand on all of these!

I keep my pencils in nearly every room in my house. Here are some of the places I keep my pencils and their uses:

By the phone in my kitchen. In a ceramic cup [with lots of tiny black dots on it]. Right next to a spiral notebook on which I write lots of lists: of people who have called, people I need to call, things I need to do or want to remember or have just remembered and don’t want to forget again.

On the coffee table in my living room in a ceramic dish [with tiny navy blue dots]. These pencils are for my Salon students and me. Sometimes my students take my pencils home with them by mistake. I hope they use my pencils for their writing for our class.

On my desk/table in my study upstairs in a grey-blue polka-dotted ceramic pitcher [a perfect gift from my dear friend Joan]. I use these pencils to write lists and sentences and letters and doodles and paragraphs and calculations and plans for writing and notes to myself for my teaching. And dissertations and narratives and articles.

On my desk in my bedroom in a small ceramic creamer [with lots of tiny black dots on it]. These pencils are for my early morning writing--my early morning writing of carefully lettered and composed lists and schedules and plans and maps. And notes in my worn black leather pocket size datebook. And notes on post-its to place where needed.

In the drawer of my nightstand. This lone pencil needs to be ready for immediate use so I can record ideas that come to me while I read before I go to sleep.

And just so you know, I like to keep my pencils sharpened.

About every other week or so, I conduct my pencil sharpening regimen: I gather all of my pencils and take them upstairs for sharpening [at my desk] with my metal/artist pencil sharpener [that I bought at the Tail of the Yak about ten years ago]. I place a piece of paper on my desk to catch the shavings and I sharpen and sharpen. Some pencils do well and others will not sharpen properly and those must go. When I am finished, I very slowly and carefully fold up the paper with the shavings inside. [In half and in half and in half until there is no chance for spillage]. These encased remnants will be recycled. Then I walk around my house and distribute my pencils.

Here they are waiting for me.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Saturday morning

Thinking about how this day will be:

Regarding Gorey’s young poet and the bear and their kindnesses exchanged and the book carrying young man and the notion of a day's common labor.

Trying to reinvest in the idea of placing trust in an other and standing with an intentional fortitude to bring about an amount of sweetness amid a day’s journeying.

And further puzzling over this originally calligraphed sentence of mine from a while back that came to me unannounced [just now]: Although she has a consequentialness about her, this particular lemon is quite lovely.

Remembering this idea of consequentialness and how it is quite like a doctrine of morality that posits an action is to be judged solely by its consequences.

And placing these words and their known and unknown meanings in the fore of my mind as a safeguard for my travels and the uncommon labor of this day.

Finally, hoping for an understandable reordering of it all.

The Stag
C.F.A. Voysey

[Voysey's lace panel was originally produced in Scotland in the early 1900s.]

Friday, May 20, 2011

Friday noon

Thinking about that one blue building

[excerpt from] Altmarkt

pencil drawing with water colour

Florian Afflerbach

Beautiful buildings all lined up. That blue one with its tinge of green stands out, of course, even with its restrained difference. That building wants or is it deserves notice, not for the tiniest inkling of arrogance but rather for its simple integrity. Like its beige neighbor to the right and the second one over on the left, this blue structure does not have its own door but instead street level windows. I wonder how visitors can find their way into such a house to bid its occupiers a fine conversation.