Posted: May 18, 2015 Filed under: Art, Poetry, Sculpture, Writing | Tags: Anish Kapoor, mountain, pigment, poem, powder, red, wallace stevens
By Wallace Stevens
There it was, word for word,
The poem that took the place of a mountain.
He breathed its oxygen,
Even when the book lay turned in the dust of his table.
It reminded him how he had needed
A place to go to in his own direction,
How he had recomposed the pines,
Shifted the rocks and picked his way among clouds,
For the outlook that would be right,
Where he would be complete in an unexplained completion:
The exact rock where his inexactnesses
Would discover, at last, the view toward which they had edged,
Where he could lie and, gazing down at the sea,
Recognize his unique and solitary home.
To Reflect an Intimate Part of the Red. Anish Kapoor.
Posted: September 15, 2014 Filed under: Art, Film, Painting/Drawing, Photography, Sculpture | Tags: 80s, 90s, Alex Hartley, alps, Anish Kapoor, Balthus, Boyd Webb, camping, Mountains, Philip Worthington, River, Roni Horn, swim, tent, water, weekend
As if to Celebrate, I Discovered a Mountain Blooming with Red Flowers. Anish Kapoor. 1981
Scott’s Tent. Boyd Webb. 1984
[no title] Roni Horn. 1999
I’m Tired of Traveling. Alex Hartley. 2011
Summertime. Balthus. 1935.