The Painting's the Thing Wherein

EMBLEMATIC ARTWORKS
WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

Nighthawks (1942)
by Edward Hopper (1882 - 1967)

“More relative than this: the play's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king."
― William Shakespeare ~ Hamlet 2, 2, 605-06

Could it also be that the painting's the thing
wherein we'll catch the consciousness of the nation?
I recently heard a speaker designate Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks" (above), along with Grant Wood's "American Gothic," and Andrew Wyeth's "Christina's World" (below) as the most iconic paintings in the United States.

American Gothic (1930)
by Grant Wood (1891 - 1942)

Christina's World (1948)
by Andrew Wyeth (1917 - 2007)

In First Impressions: Andrew Wyeth, biographer Richard Meryman adds two names to the list. According to Meryman, by the mid 1960's, Christina's World joined not only American Gothic but also Whistler's Mother and Gilbert Stuart's Portrait of George Washington -- to become "one of America's four most indelible images."
Arrangement in Grey and Black No.1:
Whistler's Mother (1871)
James McNeill Whistler (1834 - 1903)

Portrait of George Washington (1796)
by Gilbert Stuart (1755 – 1828)

It is not unreasonable that some art critics, scholars, and connoisseurs might modify this group of five in one way or another. Still it's a fair sampling of images that collectively capture the spirit and history of the United States. I spent a few days musing over what favorites or classics I might chose. Looking at this core collection, what might I add or subtract or replace? I see such severity here, and a persistent theme of isolation: in the city, in the country, in infirmity, in old age, even in greatness.

The next thing I knew -- coincidence! -- I came across a short list of British paintings, also intended to speak for the heart and soul of a nation. In Kate Atkinson's novel Life After Life, set in World War II London, a neighborhood bomb shelter has been decorated by kindly neighbors. Perhaps the theme here is "if only we weren't at war":

"Mr. Miller, in an effort to make the cellar 'homely' (something it could never be), had taped some reproductions of 'great English art,' as he called it, against the sandbagged walls. These color plates -- The Haywain, Gainsborough's Mr. and Mrs. Andrews (how smug they looked) and Bubbles (the most sickly Millais possible, in Ursula's opinion) -- looked suspiciously as if they had been pilfered from expensive reference books on art. 'Culture,' Mr. Miller said, nodding sagely. Ursula wondered what she would have chosen to represent 'great English art.' Turner perhaps, the smudged, fugitive content of the late works. Not to the Millers' taste at all, she suspected." (279)

The Hay Wain (1821)
by John Constable (1776 – 1837)

Mr and Mrs Andrews (1750)
by Thomas Gainsborough (1727 - 1788)

Bubbles, originally titled A Child's World (1886)
John Everett Millais (1829 - 1896)

Knowing how popular these artists are, and how easily recognized their paintings, it's not surprising that several have appeared in previous Fortnightlies and Quotidians:

Hopper: Surface Dwellers
Whistler: Post Mother's Day, Raoul & Marguerite
Wood: American / British / Indiana Gothic
Andrew Wyeth: Saving the River Babies
and also his father, N. C. Wyeth: He Said She Said.
John Everett Millais: Sweet Basil, Ancestors, Love Is Not All

Had we but world enough and time, we could look at a thousand different paintings, and then a thousand more. But for today, we have eight representations -- five American standards, three British standards -- of civilization and imagination. What do these classic artworks say about which exterior and interior landscapes have embedded themselves in our memories and why? Do they depict a quest or an ideal just out of reach, a life that we crave; or one that we fear; or a realilty that we readily / resignedly accept as ours? One way or another, the painting's the thing wherein, century after century, we'll catch a glimpse of our dreams, both good and bad.

SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS ON MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Tuesday, May 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ See related post: "Getting to the Truth"
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com

Post Mother's Day

A HOUSE WHERE ALL'S ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS

Little Gardens: Framed Plant Art
at the Bellagio Conservatory & Botanical Garden
[See also my recent Mother's Day Post: Picture of Home]

***************

I. Mother ~ Father Poems by Naomi Shihab Nye
Every evening
After dinner,
My mother waters the grass
And the little gardens.
She misses nothing.
The squash plants bloom before her eyes;
Peas rise up and offer their tiny envelopes.
My mother waters along the fence,
Parsley and lettuce in billowing rows;
She lets them drink.
My mother always offers everyone food,
"Have you had dinner?"
She waters the petunias.
Her flowers have never been the kind which
Fill up the whole front yard:
Her flowers are subtle
You have to look to see them.
I am looking at my mother,
Watering the grass and the plants;
The sky darkening,
My mother stands quietly, one hand on her hip

~ everything I ever loved.

My Grandmother Mary Rovilla Heidemann Lindsey
and my mother, Mary Elisabeth Lindsey Carriker

*****
When I feel like I will die before I am ready,
I love everything too much.
"How does anyone ever love anything too much?"
says my father out of his dark bed at midnight.
I bang my head against the door because
I cannot tell him.

both poems by Naomi Shihab Nye (b 1952)
Contemporary Palestinian / American Poet

A few more of my Naomi Shihab Nye favorites
from the mid - 1970s appear in previous posts:

1. "Cold Morning Poems"
2."Intellectual Cup of Lyrics"
3. "Quotidian Cat"
4. "Spiritual Journey"
[see right hand column on Quotidian Kit]

***************

II. Whistler's Mother
Arrangement in Grey and Black: The Artist's Mother, 1871
by American / British artist James Whistler, 1834 – July 1903
Study in Orange & White

I knew that James Whistler was part of the Paris scene,
but I was still surprised when I found the painting
of his mother at the Musée d'Orsay
among all the colored dots and mobile brushstrokes
of the French Impressionists.

And I was surprised to notice
after a few minutes of benign staring,
how that woman, stark in profile
and fixed forever in her chair,
began to resemble my own ancient mother
who was now fixed forever in the stars, the air, the earth.

You can understand why he titled the painting
"Arrangement in Gray and Black"
instead of what everyone naturally calls it,
but afterward, as I walked along the river bank,
I imagined how it might have broken
the woman's heart to be demoted from mother
to a mere composition, a study in colorlessness.

As the summer couples leaned into each other
along the quay and the wide, low-slung boats
full of spectators slid up and down the Seine
between the carved stone bridges
and their watery reflections,
I thought: how ridiculous, how off-base.

It would be like Botticelli calling "The Birth of Venus"
"Composition in Blue, Ochre, Green, and Pink,"
or the other way around
like Rothko titling one of his sandwiches of color
"Fishing Boats Leaving Falmouth Harbor at Dawn."

Or, as I scanned the menu at the cafe
where I now had come to rest,
it would be like painting something laughable,
like a chef turning on a spit
over a blazing fire in front of an audience of ducks
and calling it "Study in Orange and White."

But by that time, a waiter had appeared
with my glass of Pernod and a clear pitcher of water,
and I sat there thinking of nothing
but the women and men passing by—
mothers and sons walking their small fragile dogs—
and about myself,
a kind of composition in blue and khaki,
and, now that I had poured
some water into the glass, milky-green.

by American poet Billy Collins, b. 1941
Poet Laureate of the United States, 2001 - 2003

United States Postage Stamp, 1934

Thanks to my brother, Bruce Carriker
for sharing the following Mother's Day sentiment:

‎"When the real history of mankind is finally written, will it feature the crashing echoes of gunfire across centuries, or the sweet song of mothers' lullabies? The great treaties and treatises of our statesmen and generals, or the simple words and acts of peace of women in their homes and neighborhoods? Will what happened in cradles and kitchens prove to be of far greater importance than what happened in councils and congresses?"

Neal A. Maxwell, 1926 – 2004
American Apostle of the
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

***************

III. Tina Fey's Prayer for a Daughter

Check out www.coolfreeimages.net
Maybe you've seen this touching new age prayer already. I bet everybody is going to be posting it for Mother's Day. I know it's already cropping up on blogs everywhere, so I'm going to jump on the bandwagon and post it here on my blog too:

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

from Bossypants, a book of smart, funny essays
by American comedian and writer Tina Fey, b. 1970

P.S.
This prayer also holds true for mothers of sons!
Just like those hot cross buns --
if you have no daughters, give them to your sons!

An old favorite:
England ~ Summer 2000 ~ At the Cricket Club

More Recently:
England ~ Spring Break 2011 ~ In the Pine Forest
P.P.S.
See how I always need sunglasses in England?
It is sunny there -- really!
SEE YOU IN TWO WEEKS FOR MY
Next Fortnightly Post
Wednesday, May 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogspot.com