Munch: Girls on a Bridge

Today is the birth anniversary of Norwegian painter and print-maker Edvard Munch (1863-1944). Now, when you read “Edvard Munch,” you probably think of his best-known work, The Scream. But how about this idyllic scene? Here’s his Girls on a Bridge (1901).

Edvard Munch (1863-1944). Girls on a Bridge (1901). Oil on canvas, 136 x 125.5 cm. National Gallery, Oslo.

Christmas with CONCORA ― Artists' Choice

CONCORA presents Christmas with CONCORA: Artists’ Choice on Saturday, December 14 and Sunday December 15 at 4:00 PM at the Westminster Presbyterian Church, 2080 Boulevard, in West Hartford.

CONCORA continues its celebration of its 40th season with these two concerts, the 25th edition of Christmas with CONCORA, and the final Christmas concerts conducted by Artistic Director Richard Coffey, who plans to step down at the end of the 2013-2014 season. Organist and pianist for the two performances is Erik Eickhoff.

Maestro Coffey invited CONCORA’s singers to name their favorite selections from past Christmas programs. More than 100 pieces were nominated by the singers, and Maestro Coffey chose favorites from the Renaissance to the present day.

Repertoire for Christmas with CONCORA: Artists’ Choice includes a 1954 setting of “Hymne à la Vierge” (Hymn to the Virgin) by French composer Pierre Villette, Franz Biebl’s “Ave Maria” for men’s voices, arrangements from current and former CONCORA singers who are also composers (Paul Flight, Edward Tyler, Colin Britt, and Jonathan Clune), and Harold Darke’s setting of “In the Bleak Midwinter.”

Christmas with CONCORA:  Artists’ Choice

Saturday, December 14, 4:00 PM

Sunday, December 15, 4:00 PM

Westminster Presbyterian Church, 2080 Boulevard, West Hartford

Tickets: Preferred seating: $45. General Seating: $25. Student seating: $10.

phone: 860-293-0567 www.concora.org

ABOUT CONCORA

Acclaimed as Connecticut’s premier professional choir, CONCORA presents masterful performances of the world’s finest choral music. Over its forty year history, the ensemble has built an extraordinary reputation for excellence. CONCORA’s mission is to perpetuate and perform with excellence choral music of the highest quality for the broadest possible audience.

Richard Coffey, one of New England’s principal choral conductors and church musicians, founded CONCORA as an all-professional vocal ensemble in 1974, and continues to serve as its artistic director. Mr. Coffey is also the minister of music at South Church in New Britain, Connecticut, and the music director of the Hartford Chorale. The 2013-2014 season, CONCORA’s 40^th season, marks Maestro Coffey’s final season with CONCORA.

To perceive freshly

When some rare northern bird like the pine grosbeak is seen thus far south in the winter, he does not suggest poverty, but dazzles us with his beauty. There is in them a warmth akin to the warmth that melts the icicle. Think of these brilliant, warm-colored, and richly warbling birds, birds of paradise, dainty-footed, downy-clad, in the midst of a New England, a Canadian winter. The woods and fields, now somewhat solitary, being deserted by their more tender summer residents, are now frequented by these rich but delicately tinted and hardy northern immigrants of the air. Here is no imperfection to be suggested. The winter, with its snow and ice, is not an evil to be corrected. It is as it was designed and made to be, for the artist has had leisure to add beauty to use. My acquaintances, angels from the north. I had a vision thus prospectively of these birds as I stood in the swamps. I saw this familiar—too familiar—fact at a different angle, and I was charmed and haunted by it. But I could only attain to be thrilled and enchanted, as by the sound of a strain of music dying away. I had seen into paradisaic regions, with the air and sky, and I was no longer wholly or merely a denizen of this vulgar earth. Yet had I hardly a foothold there. I was only sure that I was charmed, and no mistake. It was only necessary to behold thus the least fact or phenomenon, however familiar, from a hair’s breadth aside from our habitual path or routine, to be overcome, enchanted by its beauty and significance. Only what we have touched and worn is trivial,—our scurf, repetition, tradition, conformity. To perceive freshly, with fresh senses, is to be inspired. Great winter itself looked like a precious gem, reflecting rainbow colors from one angle.

—From the Journal of Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), December 11, 1855.

A Bloody Stain

My response to an editorial in the New York Times on the perceived utility of guns in our society:

The bloody stain of our obsession with guns, and our passionate belief that guns are necessary tools in our everyday lives, seeps beyond human society. 

Snow Birds

Today’s snow brought the birds in to the feeders. These were all present within the space of about a half hour this afternoon:

Handy Guide to Holiday Greetings

Just in case you really, really don't know how to respond when someone wishes you well.

Source

Zucchini and Ricotta Galette

Looking for an elegant appetizer or a tasty item for a small luncheon or summer supper? Something to impress your enemies, or delight your friends? 

This Zucchina and Ricotta Galette is worth every minute of preparation: Inside the buttery, flaky crust is a perfect balance of savory cheeses, vegetables, and flavor.

And of course, the presentation is stunning even when it doesn't come out perfectly round, such as the one I made, shown at left.

I found the recipe at my favorite food blog, Smitten Kitchen, and made some modifications to suit my own kitchen and my own tastes, such as adding tomatoes over the top. 

Though this original zucchini version is delicious, I also like the spinach variation I devised, described at the end of the post.

Here's how to make the galette, step by step. The complete recipe is given at the end of the post.

Do try it! It's not difficult, and you will enjoy the result.

Chill a bottle of your favorite Pinot Grigio, and get started.

A Visit to Topsmead

A visit to Topsmead State Forest in Connecticut, with D.

Many photos: 

To console

“Art is to console those who are broken by life.”

— Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890), Dutch painter

Via K

Roses by Vincent Van Gogh. Oil on canvas, 1890. National Gallery, Washington DC. Photos by Quodlibet ©2012

[click to view]

At Twilight

This is a White-throated Sparrow, foraging a last meal before darkness falls.

Rehearsing with Monteverdi

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On November 21, 1615, Italian composer Claudio Monteverdi sent the score of a new choral work to a friend at the court of the Duke of Mantua, hoping that the friend would perform the music and that Duke would be inspired to commission more – and larger – works. In a letter that accompanied the score, Monteverdi gave detailed instructions as to the positioning of the vocal and instrumental musicians, and added, “If you could let the singers and players see it for an hour before His Highness hears it, it would be a very good thing indeed.” 

Thanks to Composer’s Datebook

“The discomfort of thought”

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“Too often we enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought.”

—John F. Kennedy (1917-1963)

Still Life

This really existed in my kitchen.

Photo by Quodlibet © 2013

23 October 2013

All rights reserved

Bare ruined choirs

Sonnet 73: That Time of Year Thou Mayst in Me Behold

By William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west;

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire

Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Dupré The Haymakers

D and I have been enjoying explorations of the many fine art museums in our area. I enjoy taking photos (only where permitted) to document my experience with certain works of art that move and delight me. The photo series also show how I tend to experience art, starting with a wide perspective, then focusing in on layers and details. I always read the museum placards, and photograph them, too.

Since I have a fine collection of these photo essays, I'll post some of them here. The accompanying texts are copied from my photos of the placards. 

Several weeks ago, we visited the Worcester Art Museum for the first time; it's a lovely building with a very good collection. Recommended. 

This painting by Julien Dupré really captured my imagination:

Creature Comforts

For the past several weeks, I’ve been using a heating pad wherever I sit at home, in an effort to keep my sore back from seizing up. It helps.

I sewed a large piece of elastic onto the pad, so I can secure it to whatever chair I need to use. This keeps it in place right where I need it.

The other day I was working in the kitchen, heating pad in place. I got up for one minute to pour some tea, and when I turned back, there was Ron, all snuggled in and ready for a nap.

Stepping Out

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These days I am so overwhelmed with work that I’ve hardly had a moment to step away from my desk. But the other day I did step out for just a moment; I heard the blue jays screaming, and that usually means that there’s a raptor in the neighborhood. Sure enough, when I stepped out and looked up, there was our resident Red-tailed Hawk gliding away over the tree-tops. While I was looking up, I noticed the last golden needles on our larch (tamarack), touched by the morning sun:

I scattered some seed under the hedgerow for the birds, and took a moment to admire the bittersweet.

Glad I stepped out, even for a moment.

Spelling Lessons

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Back in July, the New York Times included an amusing essay on the pleasures of spending a nightin an old camp trailer:

In describing her delighted response to the [supposed] “cuteness” of the trailer, the author wrote:

I heard myself emitting such high-pitched screeching noises that it was as if I were two 16-year-old girls, meeting each other after an absence of three hours. Imagine it in the key of E sharp: “Oh, my God, it’s perfect. And nobody has slept in it yet? Oh, who cares if there’s no plumbing? It’s so cuuuute!”

When I read “E-sharp,” it made perfect sense to me. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that in the comments appended to the article, many readers questioned the author’s use of “E-sharp” rather than “F-natural” or “F major.” One commenter said, “E Sharp is the same as F natural. So are the keys.”

Naturally, I couldn’t resist responding thus (edited slightly from my original posting, both for clarity and to add a link):

“The era of wild apples”

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“The era of wild apples will soon be over. I wander through old orchards of great extent, now all gone to decay, all of native fruit which for the most part went to the cider-mill. But since the temperance reform and the general introduction of grafted fruit, no wild apples, such as I see everywhere in deserted pastures, and where the woods have grown up among them, are set out. I fear that he who walks over these hills a century hence will not know the pleasure of knocking off wild apples. Ah, poor man! there are many pleasures which he will be debarred from.”

—From the Journal of Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), November 16, 1850.

The 100 Most Beautiful Words in English?

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This list is described as “The 100 Most Beautiful Words in English.” Well, they are lovely words, and many of them are my favorites, but the negative connotations of some of them detract from their loveliness. I’ve highlighted in italics my favorites.

Michelangelo: Capella Sistina

[Due to technical difficulties, I was not able to post this on November 1 as planned.]

From The Writer’s Almanac:

Today is All Saints' Day, and Pope Julius II chose this day in 1512 to display Michelangelo's paintings on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel for the first time.

“I could live without music’s sound”

“I could live without music’s sound (heard silently, it needs no confirmation). But without books?”

— Ned Rorem, American composer

“Music is so revolutionary”

“The trainees are out with their band of music, and I find my account in it, though I have not subscribed for it. I am walking with a hill between me and the soldiers. I think, perhaps, it will be worth the while to keep within hearing of these strains this afternoon. Yet I hesitate. I am wont to find music unprofitable; it is a luxury. It is surprising, however, that so few habitually intoxicate themselves with music, so many with alcohol. I think, perchance, I may risk it, it will whet my senses so; it will reveal a glory where none was seen before. It is remarkable that men too must dress in bright colors and march to music once in the year. Nature, too, assumes her bright hues now, and think you a subtile music may not be heard amid the hills? No doubt these strains do sometimes suggest to Abner, walking behind in his red-streaked pants, an ideal which he had lost sight of, or never perceived. It is remarkable that our institutions can stand before music, it is so revolutionary.”

—From the Journal of Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), October 17, 1857.

“Autumn Daybreak”

Autumn Daybreak
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

Cold wind of autumn, blowing loud
At dawn, a fortnight overdue,
Jostling the doors, and tearing through
My bedroom to rejoin the cloud,
I know—for I can hear the hiss
And scrape of leaves along the floor—
How may boughs, lashed bare by this,
Will rake the cluttered sky once more.
Tardy, and somewhat south of east,
The sun will rise at length, made known
More by the meagre light increased
Than by a disk in splendour shown;
When, having but to turn my head,
Through the stripped maple I shall see,
Bleak and remembered, patched with red,
The hill all summer hid from me.

No one blames the cat

No one blames the cat
in the dark of the closet,
alone and asleep.







© Quodlibet 2013
Dissemination, re-use, or duplication prohibited except by express permission of the author. I pay attention and I will find you if you use my work without attribution.

“It has come to this”

“It has come to this,—that the lover of art is one, and the lover of nature another, though true art is but the expression of our love of nature. It is monstrous when one cares but little about trees but much about Corinthian columns, and yet this is exceedingly common.”

—From the Journal of Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), October 9, 1857.