More Still, etc.

The last few shots of Clyfford Still's work @ the Hirshhorn, and various shots from in & around the museum, including a meeting room the view from which must be distracting to meeting goers - at least those not inured to the history of the place. All captured 12.April.2013.

This from 1950-M - and you thought it was all blue - so did I until I looked @ it awhile longer.

Ditto

April Stills

Some shots from the Hirshhorn's collection of my favorite abstract expressionist (and one of my absolute favorites of any style), Clyfford Still. Have to imagine each of them taking up an entire wall of the gallery. Captured 12.Ap.2013.

A thing called hope

I didn't realize this phrase was from a poem by Greenwolf.  The phrase came to mind as I read the transcript of Krista Tippet's interview with Maria Popova, who writes the blog brainpickings, which is now part of the Library of Congress's "permanent" web archive.

Here are some favorite excerpts:

I don't think hope is a baked-in faculty, that you're born either with or without. It's a conditioned response. So we can respond to horrible events that do happen in the world and we do need to actually attend to and try to understand and help. We can respond to those with hope. And we can can respond to them with resignation, which brings us back to this notion of the sort of reparenting. Because I think when we have a foundation of wisdom and of assuredness, I guess, that comes from people who have lived long ago and have gone through horrible things and through beautiful things, that then we somehow are better able to rest in that and know that despite what happens, yes, we should show up and think critically about it, but despite it all, at the base level, there is this hope that is the human experience. . .

We never see the world exactly as it is because we are how the world is. Was it — I think it was William James who said, “My experience is what I agree to attend to, and only those things which I notice shaped my mind.” And so in choosing how we are in the world, we shape our experience of that world, our contribution to it. We shape our world, our inner world, our outer world, which is really the only one we’ll ever know. And to me, that's the substance of the spiritual journey. And that's not an exasperating idea but an infinitely emboldening one. And it's taken me many years to come to that without resistance.

And, toward the end of the interview, Ms. Tippett quotes something from Seth Godin's blog:

“Giving the people what they want isn't nearly as powerful as teaching people what they need. There's always a shortcut available, a way to be a little more ironic, cheaper, more instantly understandable. There's the chance to play into our desire to be entertained and distracted regardless of the cost. Most of all, there's the temptation to encourage people to be selfish, afraid, and angry. Or you can dig in, take your time, and invest in a process that helps people see what they truly need. When we change our culture in this direction, we're doing work that's worth sharing. But it's slow-going. If it were easy, it would have happened already. It's easy to start a riot, difficult to create a story that keeps people from rioting. Don't say, ‘I wish people wanted this.’ Sure, it's great if the market already wants what you make. Instead, imagine what would happen if you could teach them why they should.”

Finally some pictures from my trip to DC in April, 2013, to visit dear friends Pam & Eric. Some from outside the Native American museum, and the rest from the Hirshhorn.

How to Talk Australians

A knitting friend sent me this. Thought you might enjoy.