Friday, October 29, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Marie Ponsot with five of her seven children. This 1957 photograph appeared in the Queens edition of The Daily News.
Anne Sexton and W.S. Merwin backstage at the 92nd Street Poetry Center on November 11, 1968. Photographed by Jill Krementz.
Sexton struggled with "madness" most of her adult life, a battle beginning with To Bedlam and Part Way Back (1960) and ending with the posthumous The Awful Rowing Toward God (1975). Merwin, a prolific poet and translator, now lives in Hawaii, where he has created a remarkable nature preserve and forest.
Jill Krementz Photo Journal - Portraits of Poets | New York Social Diary
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Read all about a nationwide effort to make sure arts education gets the attention, respect, and resources it deserves. Here's what their Facebook page says:
Arts Education is ABSOLUTELY CRUCIAL for the development of our children, from as early as kindergarten all the way up into higher level education.
An education in Fine Arts encourages:
- more developed habits of critical and creative thinking
- more perseverance and dedication to a given task
- better psychological and physical health
- self-discipline, intrapersonal and interpersonal skills
A child who participates in Fine Arts is:
- more likely to succeed academically
- more likely to succeed socially
- more able to express his or herself
- inclined to be more literate than his or her peers
If America's children are to be sucessful in all aspects of their life, then an education that emphasizes Fine Arts is crucial.
Support the Arts!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
'At his best, Hoagland rejects both the cynic’s lie that everything superficially beautiful must be rotten underneath, and the romantic’s lie that everything apparently ugly must possess some essential nobility.'
I was also reading an obit for J.D. Salinger in Rolling Stone this week, where these same themes of romanticism, cynicism, mockery, etc. were in focus. Here's what I took away:
'One reason Holden finds phonies everywhere, Salinger ever-so-quietly insinuates, is that he's unable to find pleasure anywhere.'
Wow - that stopped me cold. That a cynic might be a person who has given up on pleasure?
And what about this, which I found in the bowels of Mary Karr's Lit, when she's discussing the differences between happiness and joy:
'Never have I felt such blazing focus for another living creature. I can't stop looking at him. Joy, it is, which I've never known before, only pleasure or excitement. Joy is a different thing, because its focus exists outside the self--delight in something external, not satisfaction of some inner craving.'
Karr is talking about the moments after giving birth to her son. I remember that feeling. I also know something about self loathing, self importance, self pity, giving up on romanticism, fear of cynics, and a lot of other stuff. Today, Bob bought me flowers, beautiful pink blooming cyclamen from the Farmers' Market. There was a day when I would have felt gyped because they weren't cut flowers, what a real romantic husband would give his wife, but today I felt joy joy joy -- unexpected and welcome. And now I have to wash his underwear while he pays the bills. Joy joy joy.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Here's a wonderful one. I may have to take these words to my poet kids during class.
The raison d'etre of this dissertation is an etude in eschewing obfuscation.
Each day, with cyclicality quotidian,
Ante- if you wish, or post-meridian,
Make a time for self-examination
And if encountered in this introspection,
Expunge it! Hurl it forth in firm rejection.
For surely there's a modicum of worth
In everything God put upon the earth.
Ex nihilo, for certain, nihil fit
So take a chance, and see what comes of it.
(The raison d'etre of this dissertation
Is an etude in eschewing obfuscation,
Words to me, are obviously alien.
Copyright; Tad Lawson
Friday, January 29, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Here is my favorite poem from their site:
Ode to the Color Black
envelops all. Cold,
infinite thoughts, deep
and hidden. Blackness
is the only one
with the power to
hold memories, to
two caches of
blackness. They are
your eyes. You see
holes, pools, wells
print on paper,
nothing. But black
has turned bitter. The world
are full of cruelty.
bring bad luck.
is beautiful. Black
by Maya, 7th grade
[painting by Mark Rothko]
(c) Writers in the Schools 2007-2010.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Welsh poet at Stanford: Small languages make a big difference
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And, here's one of her poems. I love this, love this. The recorded interview on YouTube has her reading her poems in Welsh, and the printed interview provides another poem in English. I'm in love. Makes me want to go home and write.