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Posts tagged "alice neel"

Nov 08, 2012
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misterbadger:

Alice Neel, Frank O’Hara, 1960, oil on canvas, 34 x 16 1/8 in.
Why I Am Not a Painter, by Frank O’Hara
I am not a painter, I am a poet. Why? I think I would rather be a painter, but I am not. Well, for instance, Mike Goldberg is starting a painting. I drop in. “Sit down and have a drink” he says. I drink; we drink. I look up. “You have SARDINES in it.” “Yes, it needed something there.” “Oh.” I go and the days go by and I drop in again. The painting is going on, and I go, and the days go by. I drop in. The painting is  finished. “Where’s SARDINES?” All that’s left is just letters, “It was too much,” Mike says.
But me? One day I am thinking of a color: orange. I write a line about orange. Pretty soon it is a  whole page of words, not lines. Then another page. There should be so much more, not of orange, of words, of how terrible orange is and life. Days go by. It is even in prose, I am a real poet. My poem is finished and I haven’t mentioned orange yet. It’s twelve poems, I call it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery I see Mike’s painting, called SARDINES.

Filed under: Frank O’Hara

misterbadger:

Alice Neel, Frank O’Hara, 1960, oil on canvas, 34 x 16 1/8 in.

Why I Am Not a Painter, by Frank O’Hara

I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,
for instance, Mike Goldberg
is starting a painting. I drop in.
“Sit down and have a drink” he
says. I drink; we drink. I look
up. “You have SARDINES in it.”
“Yes, it needed something there.”
“Oh.” I go and the days go by
and I drop in again. The painting
is going on, and I go, and the days
go by. I drop in. The painting is
finished. “Where’s SARDINES?”
All that’s left is just
letters, “It was too much,” Mike says.

But me? One day I am thinking of
a color: orange. I write a line
about orange. Pretty soon it is a
whole page of words, not lines.
Then another page. There should be
so much more, not of orange, of
words, of how terrible orange is
and life. Days go by. It is even in
prose, I am a real poet. My poem
is finished and I haven’t mentioned
orange yet. It’s twelve poems, I call
it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery
I see Mike’s painting, called SARDINES.

Filed under: Frank O’Hara

(via theparisreview)

May 14, 2009
Permalink
Alice Neel, “Self-Portrait”, 1980Neel had never painted a self-portrait (she said the closest she came was an empty chair by a window), and then at 75 she started this painting, which took her five years to complete. She died four years later at the age of 84.This might be one of those paintings everyone who goes to art school has to look at, but it’s a new image to me.And a wonderful juxtaposition with two quotes I read earlier today on aging and death, respectively.Author Julian Barnes:There is something infinitely touching when an artist, in old age, takes on simplicity. The artist is saying: display and bravura are tricks for the young, and yes, showing off is part of ambition; but now that we are old, let us have the confidence to speak simply.And Steve Jobs’ 2005 Stanford commencement speech:Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked.(via Gabrielle Bell in an interview)

Alice Neel, “Self-Portrait”, 1980

Neel had never painted a self-portrait (she said the closest she came was an empty chair by a window), and then at 75 she started this painting, which took her five years to complete. She died four years later at the age of 84.

This might be one of those paintings everyone who goes to art school has to look at, but it’s a new image to me.

And a wonderful juxtaposition with two quotes I read earlier today on aging and death, respectively.

Author Julian Barnes:

There is something infinitely touching when an artist, in old age, takes on simplicity. The artist is saying: display and bravura are tricks for the young, and yes, showing off is part of ambition; but now that we are old, let us have the confidence to speak simply.

And Steve Jobs’ 2005 Stanford commencement speech:

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked.

(via Gabrielle Bell in an interview)

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