El Greco’s masterpiece which is located at the Cathedral of Toledo, Spain.
Mrs. Abstract and I toured the cathedral yesterday. Lots of hard walking ascending and descending narrow, small-stone covered streets before arriving at the cathedral. 11,000 steps.
A moment of each day.
Mrs. Abstract and I meet with our friends in San Francisco
and tour the art exhibit of Paul Gauguin at the de Young Museum today.
A discomfort in my walking
looking from one art work to another
a pebble in my shoe
“In Japan there is a kind of reverence for the art of mending. In the context of the tea ceremony there is no such thing as failure or success in the way we are accustomed to using those words. A broken bowl would be valued precisely because of the exquisite nature of how it was repaired, a distinctly Japanese tradition of kintsugi, meaning to “to patch with gold”. Often, we try to repair broken things in such a way as to conceal the repair and make it “good as new.” But the tea masters understood that by repairing the broken bowl with the distinct beauty of radiant gold, they could create an alternative to “good as new” and instead employ a “better than new” aesthetic. They understood that a conspicuous, artful repair actually adds value. Because after mending, the bowl’s unique fault lines were transformed into little rivers of gold that post repair were even more special because the bowl could then resemble nothing but itself. Here lies that radical physical transformation from useless to priceless, from failure to success. All of the fumbling and awkward moments you will go through, all of the failed attempts, all of the near misses, all of the spontaneous curiosity will eventually start to steer you in exactly the right direction.”
-Teresita Fernández, sculptor
quoted by Maria Popova in Brain Pickings
She examines herself on the mirror
without admiring or questioning
She wonders what the day can offer.
She wishes to be anonymous
but doesn’t want to spend the dawn alone
well, someone may descend from the stairs.
note: the two photos are from Downtown Napa. The top one is from the Veterans Memorial Park. The one below is from the Artist Alley.
“That finger of Jesus, pointing at Matthew. That’s me. I feel like him. Like Matthew,” he told Fr Spadaro. “It is the gesture of Matthew that strikes me: he holds on to his money as if to say, ‘No, not me! No, this money is mine.’ Here, this is me, a sinner on whom the Lord has turned his gaze. And this is what I said when they asked me if I would accept my election as pontiff.”
quoted in the chapter, “Who Am I? A sinner…” in the book, Fioretti, The Little Flowers of Pope Francis, by Andrea Tornielli
“Pope Francis asked people in the crowd to find a quiet time at home or in a church to remember in silence and with gratitude an occasion when they felt that merciful gaze of Christ.” quoted in an article by Cindy Wooden, link here
The rendition of the The Calling of St. Matthew by Caravaggio with narration here
note: Part of my daily readings during Lent is spiritual books:
Into The Silant Land, A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation by Martin Laird, Fioretti by Andrea Tornielli, and Franciscan Prayer by Ilia Delio. The other book I’m reading is Becoming Wise, An Inquiry into the Mystery and Art of Living by Krista Tippet.
The photo of The Calling of St. Matthew is from Khan Academy. org
Walking today, one Sunday morning
in the sacredness of ordinary things
the sky like cinnamon rolls, a divine touch
on the street, a flower decorated car,
a steel bent to shape like infinity scarf
an art of human creation.
note: Art Walk in downtown Napa, Napa Valley, CA
Books I’m reading:
Still Writing by Dani Shapiro
The Burning Girl by Claire Messud
The Brothers K by David James Duncan
Life is an art in progress
We are trying to create a masterpiece
One inch at a time.
“One of the unexpectedly important things that art can do for us is teach us how to suffer more successfully.
,,,We need help in finding honour in some of our worst experiences, and art is there to lend them a social expression.”
-Alain de Botton & John Armstrong, Art as Therapy