Posts tagged art

Then, with his children, clothed in skins of brutes,
Dishevelled, livid, rushing through the storm,
Cain fled before Jehovah. As night fell
The dark man reached a mount in a great plain,
And his tired wife and his sons, out of breath,
Said: “Let us lie down on the earth and sleep.”
Cain, sleeping not, dreamed at the mountain foot.
Raising his head, in that funereal heaven
He saw an eye, a great eye, in the night
Open, and staring at him in the gloom.
“I am too near,” he said, and tremblingly woke up
His sleeping sons again, and his tired wife,
And fled through space and darkness. Thirty days
He went, and thirty nights, nor looked behind;
Pale, silent, watchful, shaking at each sound;
No rest, no sleep, till he attained the strand
Where the sea washes that which since was Asshur.
“Here pause,” he said, “for this place is secure;
Here may we rest, for this is the world’s end.”
And he sat down; when, lo! in the sad sky,
The selfsame Eye on the horizon’s verge,
And the wretch shook as in an ague fit.
“Hide me!” he cried; and all his watchful sons,
Their finger on their lip, stared at their sire.
Cain said to Jabal (father of them that dwell
In tents): “Spread here the curtain of thy tent,”
And they spread wide the floating canvas roof,
And made it fast and fixed it down with lead.
“You see naught now,” said Zillah then, fair child
The daughter of his eldest, sweet as day.
But Cain replied, “That Eye—I see it still.”
And Jubal cried (the father of all those
That handle harp and organ): “I will build
A sanctuary;” and he made a wall of bronze,
And set his sire behind it. But Cain moaned,
“That Eye is glaring at me ever.” Henoch cried:
“Then must we make a circle vast of towers,
So terrible that nothing dare draw near;
Build we a city with a citadel;
Build we a city high and close it fast.”
Then Tubal Cain (instructor of all them
That work in brass and iron) built a tower—
Enormous, superhuman. While he wrought,
His fiery brothers from the plain around
Hunted the sons of Enoch and of Seth;
They plucked the eyes out of whoever passed,
And hurled at even arrows to the stars.
They set strong granite for the canvas wall,
And every block was clamped with iron chains.
It seemed a city made for hell. Its towers,
With their huge masses made night in the land.
The walls were thick as mountains. On the door
They graved: “Let not God enter here.” This done,
And having finished to cement and build
In a stone tower, they set him in the midst.
To him, still dark and haggard, “Oh, my sire,
Is the Eye gone?” quoth Zillah tremblingly.
But Cain replied: “Nay, it is even there.”
Then added: “I will live beneath the earth,
As a lone man within his sepulchre.
I will see nothing; will be seen of none.”
They digged a trench, and Cain said: “‘Tis enow,”
As he went down alone into the vault;
But when he sat, so ghost-like, in his chair,
And they had closed the dungeon o’er his head,
The Eye was in the tomb and fixed on Cain.
Victor Hugo, “Cain”
The purpose of theology - the purpose of any thinking about God - is to make the silences clearer and starker to us, to make the unmeaning - by which I mean those aspects of the divine that will not be reduced to human meanings - more irreducible and more terrible, and thus ultimately more wonderful. This is why art is so often better at theology than theology is.
Christian Wiman, My Bright Abyss, 130.
monsieurleprince:

Louis H. Grimshaw (1870 - 1943) - St. Margarets, Westminster

monsieurleprince:

Louis H. Grimshaw (1870 - 1943) - St. Margarets, Westminster

thegetty:

How do you move 3.5 tons of marble? A flying lion and horse descend on the Getty Villa! 

I love the Getty Villa. Not quite as much as I love the Getty Center, but the Villa is just amazing.

You do not write the best you can for the sake of art, but for the sake of returning your talent increased to the invisible God to use or not use as he sees fit.
Flannery O’Connor

newyorker:

“My first trip to Israel and Palestine was an intuitive leap,” Forsell writes in the book. “Nothing turned out as planned. In this state of confusion, I started photographing the everyday conflict and the people living in it. Alongside the actual attacks, clashes and casualties, there is a conflict going on within each person in Israel and Palestine. Ordinary people are making extraordinary choices to get by. Reinforced by the small things that build up hate and the difficult choices everyone is forced to make, the entire region is pervaded by a certain psychological state of mind. People look, but they don’t see.”

From 2008 to 2010, Linda Forsell photographed life in Israel and Palestine, and her work has recently been published as a book, “Life’s a Blast.”  Click-through to see more images from her collection: http://nyr.kr/LCxKig

You do not write the best you can for the sake of art, but for the sake of returning your talent increased to the invisible God to use or not use as he sees fit.
Flannery O’Connor
In art, either as creators or participators, we are helped to remember some of the glorious things we have forgotten, and some of the terrible things we are asked to endure, we who are children of God by adoption and grace.
Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water
It is very important, fundamental, I would say, to learn to love, to really love, to learn the art of true love! In adolescence we pause in front of the mirror and we notice ourselves changing. But if you only look at yourself, you never grow up! You grow up when you no longer let the mirror be the only truth of yourselves but when you let your friends tell you the truth. You will grow up if you are able to make your life a gift to others, not to seek yourselves, but to give yourselves to others: this is the school of love.
Pope Benedict XVI (via matthewclan)
In art, either as creators or participators, we are helped to remember some of the glorious things we have forgotten, and some of the terrible things we are asked to endure, we who are children of God by adoption and grace.
Madeleine L’Engle, Walking on Water
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