Monday Morning Musings:
“This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.”
–Leonard Bernstein
(For information on this quote. Go here. )
I had meant to write a different post,
One discussing food and family
Something new,
I know,
But then there was Paris
And Beirut,
And death everywhere.
It’s all I could think about.
But life goes on.
And there was art.
A still life by my mom.
My husband and I went to the museum
To see an exhibition on American still life,
And when I said “still life”
To myself
There was the epiphany.
(From the Greek,
Meaning reveal.)
Art does reveal,
Of course.
But it was the words–
Still AND life—
That’s what hit me.
Despite the attempts
By terrorists
To massacre
Not only people,
But to destroy
Art, music, culture,
The history, beauty, and wisdom
Of the ages
They have not won.
There is
Still
Life.
Still life the art form
Displays what people value
Or want to present to the world
It can be a reflection of the ordinary
Or the sublime.
Often both.
Raphaelle Peale’s blackberries
Looked so luscious
I wanted to pluck them from the canvas.
A little girl ran to a Calder mobile,
A water lily,
In delight.
The guard and I smiled at each other.
“It is wonderful to see so many children here,”
I said.
And she agreed.
The next generation
Seeing beauty and creativity,
And all sorts of people were there.
A French-speaking family stood
Behind me.
A woman with gray hair
And a ready smile
In a wheelchair
Moved around the exhibition room
As though her chair was a chariot.
A tall man in a blue sweater stooped
To read a label
Supported by his cane.
From American still life,
Audubon’s birds
“Are they dead?”
The girl asked her mother
To Warhol’s Brillo Pads
We traveled to another gallery.
Rubens’ “Prometheus Bound,”
Bound again
And again
For bringing the fire of creativity to humankind.
He suffered perpetual torture
Until freed by Hercules.
His position mirroring
Michelangelo’s risen Christ.
Wrath of the gods
And resurrection.
The triumph of human spirit
And imagination
Rendered over and over.
Humans suffer for art
And for that creative spark.
And art suffers from human destructiveness.
We saw paintings
Retrieved by
The Monuments Men.
Paintings stolen
In another war.
Evil and good,
History and art,
Gods and men.
In another room
A Buddhist monk in saffron robe and black sandals
Admired Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers,”
Another still life
By a tortured soul.
But still,
Life.
We had seen a play the day before.
Equivocation.
That was the title,
Not what we did,
At least not then,
Because after all,
Haven’t we all
Equivocated?
The play was about Shakespeare,
And history,
And truth
And lies
And theater.
In other words,
Life.
The creation of truth
Or legends.
And don’t forget the witches.
Richard III and his hump,
A creation of the playwright,
And Agincourt,
The legend immortalized,
But after all,
The St. Crispin’s Day speech
Is grand and glorious,
We happy few
Going into battle.
Still life
A tableau
A freeze frame
Of a particular moment
In time
On stage,
But in our minds, too,
As we recall
“Where were you when it happened?”
Everyone remembers.
I was in second grade when JFK
Was assassinated.
I was on my way to the gym
When the first plane struck the twin towers.
Moments observed
And never forgotten.
We went to the movies,
My husband and I,
Spotlight
The name of the movie,
A noun and a verb.
A moment revealed
And highlighted.
The power of the press
Uncovering a cover-up
Exposing what had been buried
With the help of many
In the church and government.
What is the opposite
Of wrath of the gods?
The triumph of the human spirit?
Truth
Not equivocation.
Buildings
And photos
Colored in red, blue, and white
In solidarity
Revealing
The human impulse
To do something
In the face of evil
And who says it does no good?
As we are reminded
Time and time again
One person can bring about
Change.
Gandhi said,
“In a gentle way, you can shake the world.”
And
So
In the horror
Of Paris,
Beirut,
The abuse of children,
The censorship of ideas,
The destruction of art,
We mourn,
And
We go about life
Without equivocation
Without hesitation
Revealing truth
Life
Still
But
Not stilled.
Life
Creating
Loving
Being.
More intensely,
More beautifully,
More devotedly
Than ever
Before.
My mom with one of her still life paintings at an exhibit.
Further Information:
Audubon to Warhol: The Art of American Still Life
The Wrath of the Gods: Masterpieces by Rubens, Michelangelo, and Titian
Equivocation at the Arden Theatre. You can read more about the play here.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
So beautiful, Merril, I am crying from the joy of thinking of life, still. Cindy
Thank you, Cindy. You are making me cry this morning, too. Thank you for commenting.
the philosophy of your words here ….is beyond beautifull… ❤
Thank you so much, Alicepoorvi!
Thank you so very much, Alicepoorvi!
So true – there is still life. A very thoughtful, life-affirming poem – thank you.
Thank you for stopping by and commenting, Barbara. I’m glad you liked the post.
Still Life. Indeed. Thank you for a timely and thoughtful post this morning, Merril. And for the links you provided to a bit of Bernstein history.
Thank you, Janet. I had seen the quote by Bernstein, but I didn’t know, or didn’t remember, the context. I try to verify quotations before I use them.
I saw the Bernstein quote on Facebook yesterday and appreciate your bringing it to life here with a link. Music . . . visual art, it’s what makes us human. I really like your mother’s art. Her pieces evoke Cezanne for me, paintings that invite us to stand still and reflect.
Truth and equivocation, art and love – still, life!
Thanks so much, Marian, and I agree that it is those things that make us human.
I’m glad you liked the post, and I will tell my mom that her art reminds you of Cezanne! 🙂
Merril, you always write so beautifully from the heart infusing your musings with memories, history and family. Your mother’s painting is excellent but what I loved most was the photo of her with her painting, which made it so personal. Usually, you don’t see the painting with the artist and this casual photo takes you into a personal, private moment…th fly on the wall.
You’ve already read my views about the horrors of Paris. Such devastation. So hard to understand and even harder to understand how life goes on regardless. There’s a beauty in that but also a touch of callousness.
I went down to the beach this morning to work on a before and after the storm post and all the earthmoving equipment is gone and other than a few sandbags peeking out of the dunes, you’d never know there’d ever been such a crisis. It is abeautiful Summer’s day. Aside from the Christmas period, it’s never really crowded down there but there were a few sunbakers, dogwalkers etc. No hail.
Hope you have a good week.
xx Rowena
Thank you so much for your kind words. I’m glad you liked that photo of my mom with her painting. It’s one I had forgotten about, so I was happy to rediscover it.
I had also thought if it seemed callous to say life goes on when possibly someone you loved has been lost or wounded, but I hope that people will know I mean in general.
I’m glad the beach is so peaceful and no signs of crisis remain. Or hail! 🙂
A wonderful blend of current events, a weekend, history, and reality … thus quite the range of emotions. I found out about the senseless Paris terror while at a rehearsal dinner for our niece.
Thank you, Frank. I often have such a range of things bumbling about in my brain. 🙂
I hope your niece’s dinner was not affected too much by the tragic news.
Bumblings don’t bumble when fused together … and the dinner remained a joyful event. 🙂
🙂
Beautifully done Merril.The human spirit will always rise again, beauty in art will always be created as long as someone can envision beauty in their soul.
xxx Gigantic Hugs xxx
Thank you so much for your heartfelt words, David. Gigantic hugs back to you!
Thank you Merril. I’ll never look at a painting in the same way again. Such a wonderful meaning to the words, still life, and life, still. And, yes, we’re always reminded of the human spirit that somehow rises above the darkness. The artist who creates in spite of …
Thank you so much, Susan. I’m glad I touched you and made you think! All best.
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Beautiful and sage poem. The tone and flow so well meshed with the sentiment contained in the words. I was mentioning to my SO yesterday how sad it was when I was the Museum D’Orsay and watching people just click a photo of a painting, then move to the next, click, move onto the next one, and so on. The pic of your mom with her wonderful still life shows her engaging art the way it should be.
Thank you so much, Elusive Trope, for stopping by and for your kind words. Yes, it is sad when people just check off art on their “to do” lists. The people who were at the art museum the day we went seemed genuinely interested to be there.
Incredibly beautiful, heart-stirring poem, Merril. Thank you.
Thank you so much, Robin!!