I’ll be talking about art on Saturday at Zinema 2 in an event sponsored by the Duluth Art Institute, for the showing of American Splendor. Here is other writing of mine on art; if you like it, I hope to be this elegant Saturday.
A Woman Bathing in a Stream by Rembrandt
When I was 22, I took the bus to New York and visited the Rembrandt/Not-Rembrandt exhibit.
I learned that conservators struggle with Rembrandt’s work, because he added ground chalk and bits of glass to the paint to add texture and to speed drying. These practices make the paintings hard to preserve hundreds of years later.
… fragments of chalk and glass in an oil painting, causing the paint to crack over time.
Those fragments have become integral to identifying a Rembrandt — a painting without them starts from the presumption of forgery. The bits of glass have become a sign of authenticity.
It is impossible to admire a Rembrandt without admiring the cracks and breaks caused by the ground and broken things.
After skiing the Lester, I was pretty cold and a little wet, but decided to go down and check the ice structures at Brighton Beach anyway. The few people there sat in their cars but I walked out and gave them something to look at — a guy walking around looking at the lake. Then I witnessed an improperly dressed dude walking his Labrador turn back abruptly to the safety of his car. Black Lab you ask? Hell no! The cold didn’t bother him one god damned second. He was living in the moment. Happy as can be.
On this chilly morn, the blue light of the moon reveals the carnage left on the battlefield of the War on Xmas. Last year’s Apple product, the old tube television, and mounds of torn wrapping paper clutter the otherwise barren landscape. Though the media pundit generals have refused to sign the Declaration of Armistice, the conflict is over. The body count was surprisingly low- a Christmas miracle, one might even say. According to official reports, there was only a single casualty. Ironically, it was a Salvation Army bell-ringer who was assaulted by a “true believer” who was so insulted by the charity worker’s exhortation of “Happy Holidays,” that they had no other choice but to punch them in the face. We can only pray that the Peace holds — and that cooler heads will prevail. In closing, let us wish a Happy Birthday to Albino Jesus.
On this 10th anniversary of the first PDD post, I would like to thank the original members of Perfect Duluth Day who were there at the start, helping to transform this site from a mere idea to what it’s become today:
I was running the trail in Lower Chester this morning when I glimpsed something odd out of the corner of my eye . Looking down, I beheld this bewildering loose sprig laying right in the middle of the trail. Quite real, and I can’t even begin to explain it. But at this moment, in the latter half of April, as winter is pumping yet another shell into the chamber, I offer it that it might elicit the same emotion it stirred in me: hope.