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Sunday, 21 June 2009

The Practice of Painting


Morning beckons from the phthalocyanine shade
Heaviness sheds its weight
There’s water everywhere

Unrivaled dawns and dusks so wild

Hands like leaves
Move chastely in the air
And many little cries – according to Alberti –
Come out of the branches
Near by, whispering foglie…

The wax paper crackles around the sandwich
In Botticelli’s hands
As he relaxes beside his canvas
Having lunch

The Madonna
Of the Magnificat

Cestello Annunciation (detail): Sandro Botticelli, 1489-90 (Galleria degli Uffizi)
Madonna del Magnificat (detail): Sandro Botticelli, 1480-81 (Galleria degli Uffizi)


Mariana Soffer said...

I liked that you said hands like leaves, cause in a way they are, and when you paint you can even make them be.
I deeply admire this practice, is the one I like the most to see.

TC/BTP said...

Yes, the idea that a virtual command of the rhythm and flow of solids should be "in our hands" is wonderful.

But is anything we make actually shaped by our hands any more?

Sue Ann Simar said...

Tom Clark: The Practice of Painting.
"The wax paper crackles around the sandwich/In Botticelli's hand"--I've found the poem to carry with me through the day, carrying in my head the practice of the poem.

TC said...

Sue Ann,

I like the crackle in this one when I hear you say it. And then the quiet (sshh!) when the flesh of Botticelli's hand closes over it... just before he eats it up.

Good morning to you in Morgantown, hope you got to sleep in. (I should be asleep myself... sshh! don't wake the snoring cats.)