Photo of River Rock Finished with Gold Leaf by Andy GoldsworthyDecember 2nd:
Indoor Desert by Alvaro Sanchez Montanes
December 3rd:December 4th: December 5th:
Ego by Laura Kimpton
December 6th:December 7th:
Kali by Romio Shrestha
Week 2 Introduction:December 8th:
The Delight Song of Tsoai-talee
BY N. SCOTT MOMADAY
Gulf Stream by Winslow Homer
Mind Enso by Kasumi Bunsho
Mindful by Mary Oliver
Every day I see or hear something that more or less
kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle
in the haystack of light. It was what I was born for – to look, to listen,
to lose myself inside this soft world – to instruct myself over and over
in joy, and acclamation. Nor am I talking about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful, the very extravagant – but of the ordinary, the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations. Oh, good scholar, I say to myself, how can you help
but grow wise with such teachings as these – the untrimmable light
of the world, the ocean’s shine, the prayers that are made out of grass?
Painting by Alex GreyDecember 16th:
Telephone Poles by Jin Choi and Thomas Shine in Norway
Breath in Milky Way Series by Mihoko Ogaki
Love by Alexander Milov
We shape our self to fit this world
and by the world are shaped again.
The visible and the invisible
working together in common cause,
to produce the miraculous.
I am thinking of the way the intangible air
passed at speed round a shaped wing
easily holds our weight.
So may we, in this life trust
to those elements we have yet to see
or imagine, and look for the true
shape of our own self, by forming it well
to the great intangibles about us.
— David Whyte
Happy Show Installation by Stefan Sagmeister
Lingering In Happiness
After rain after many days without rain, it stays cool, private and cleansed, under the trees, and the dampness there, married now to gravity, falls branch to branch, leaf to leaf, down to the ground
where it will disappear–but not, of course, vanish except to our eyes. The roots of the oaks will have their share, and the white threads of the grasses, and the cushion of moss; a few drops, round as pearls, will enter the mole’s tunnel;
and soon so many small stones, buried for a thousand years, will feel themselves being touched.
By Mary Oliver
Week 4 Intro:
Rubber Duck by Florentijn Hofman
December 25th:December 26th: December 27th: December 28th: December 29th: December 30th: December 31st:
“KEEPING QUIET” BY PABLO NERUDA
Now we will count to twelve and we will all keep still.
For once on the face of the earth, let’s not speak in any language; let’s stop for one second, and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment without rush, without engines; we would all be together in a sudden strangeness.
Fisherman in the cold sea would not harm whales and the man gathering salt would look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars, wars with gas, wars with fire, victories with no survivors, would put on clean clothes and walk about with their brothers in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused with total inactivity. Life is what it is about; I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded about keeping our lives moving, and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt this sadness of never understanding ourselves and of threatening ourselves with death. Perhaps the earth can teach us as when everything seems dead and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve and you keep quiet and I will go.