The Beach with Sally Swatland and Robert Graves

More days spent on the beach.
The grandchildren and the dog are going home tomorrow and although I’ll miss them, I think I need the peace, I’m verging on exhausted. We have spent the last few days on the beach; and still the sun shines  I’m going with the beach theme for this weeks Art Sunday. 

The art work is by American artist Sally Swatland and the poem is by Robert Graves. I don’t think either are what I would normally chose but they fit exactly with the way I feel right now. Sally Swatlands paintings reassure me that the way my grandchildren have behaved these last few days is typical of children the world over and from all generations.

Robert Graves poem shows that even the most intelligent and talented of men………..can be seduced by the simple pleasures of the beach.

SALLY SWATLAND
(b. 1946)

Memories of Summer

Sally Swatland was born in 1946 in Washington, DC and moved to Greenwich, Connecticut when she was seven. Her father was a successful attorney, which allowed her family to spend long periods in the countryside with many vacations at various seaside locations throughout the United States. She shared a passion with her family for beaches, sunshine, and fresh air. Most summer days were spent at the beach playing in tidal pools, chasing minnows, collecting shells and exploring.
 

Read more here
http://www.sallyswatland.com/?page=63&key=
Poet Robert Graves has an extraordinary story;
The Beach Robert von Ranke Graves (also known as Robert Ranke Graves and most commonly Robert Graves) (24 July 1895 – 7 December 1985)was an English poet, scholar/translator/writer of antiquity specializing in Classical Greece and Rome, and novelist. During his long life he produced more than 140 works.

Graves's poems—together with his translations and innovative analysis and interpretations of the Greek myths, his memoir of his early life, including his role in the First World War, Good-Bye to All That, and his speculative study of poetic inspiration, The White Goddess—have never been out of print.

Read more here

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Graves

by Robert Graves

Louder than gulls the little children scream
Whom fathers haul into the jovial foam;
But others fearlessly rush in, breast high,
Laughing the salty water from their mouthes--
Heroes of the nursery.
The horny boatman, who has seen whales
And flying fishes, who has sailed as far
As Demerara and the Ivory Coast,
Will warn them, when they crowd to hear his tales,
That every ocean smells of tar.

The Glory of the Garden

( above; painting by contemporary artist George Birrel)

The Glory of the Garden


Today has been spent in the garden. There was no rain, some wind, and not too much heat, perfect for working in the garden. I began thinking about something many of us participated in back on Multiply. 

( above; tea in the garden by James Guthrie, Scottish artist)

Every Wednesday we posted a poem and the post was called (collectively) Poetry Wednesday. One poem that really took my fancy was this one By Kipling, I seem to remember posting it several times and every time I included paintings of gardens by different artists.  
( above, Bessie MacNicol, Scottish artist, 'a girl of the 60's') 

Anyhow…………..today I began thinking of it again, I can’t remember which paintings I originally posted with it but today I’ve chosen a couple of gardens buy different Scottish Artists.

( above; A Hinds daughter, James Githrie, Scottish artist 1859-1930) 

The Poem; The Glory of the garden by Rudyard Kipling

OUR country is a garden that is full of stately views,
Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,
With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;
But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.
For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall,
You'll find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all
The cold-frames and the hot-houses, the dung-pits and the tanks,
The rollers, carts, and drain-pipes, with the barrows and the planks.
( above cottage by Largo by George Lesley Hunter)

And there you'll see the gardeners, the men and 'prentice boys
Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise ;
For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,
The Glory of the Garden abides not in the words.
And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,
And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows ;
But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,
For the Glory of the Garden occupies  all who come.
(Above contemporary Scottish painter George Birrel) 

Our country is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing:-" Oh, how beautiful," and sitting in the shade
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives.
There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a head so thick,
There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick
But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done,
For the Glory of the Garden glories every one.
Above; contemporary Scottish painter George Birrel)

Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,
If it's only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;
And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,
You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden.
Oh yes, man  was born a gardener, and thankfully he sees
That half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees,
So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and play
And hopefully this Glory,  may never pass away!

 ( above George Lesley Hunter Scottish colourist) 

and finally; Sweet Blosson by Edward Atkinson Hornel

Sir James Guthrie (10 June 1859 – 6 September 1930) was a Scottish Painter best known in his own lifetime for his portraiture although today more generally regarded as a painter of Scottish Realism.

Tea in the Garden and A Hind's Daughter - Sir James Guthrie painted at Cockburnspath, East Berwickshire (1883)


Bessie MacNicol (1869 – 1907) was a important woman painter in Glasgow at the start of the 20th century. She was an artist respected by her contemporaries and exhibited in Scotland and London, in several European cities and at Pittsburg and St Louis in the USA.

A girl of the 60’s painted 1899
George Lesley Hunter

Hunter was born in Rothesay, a town on the west coast Scottish Isle of Bute, in 1877.

he died in a Glasgow nursing home in December 1931, aged just 54.

Cottage, near Largo by G.L.Hunter (c.1920)

Edward Atkinson Hornel (1864–1933) was a Scottish painter Artist 

Sweet blosson

 George BIRRELL

George Birrell was born in 1950. He trained at the Glasgow School of Art (1967 - 1971) and was involved with the Hospitalfield Summer School in 1970.

http://www.redraggallery.co.uk/print-george-birrell.asp



Ian Hamilton Finlay's Little Sparta: An Artist's Garden

Andrew Dickson visits Little Sparta, for 40 years the home and studio of Scottish artist Ian Hamilton Finlay, who was also a poet, writer and gardener. Richard Ingleby, co-owner of the Ingleby Gallery in Edinburgh, takes us on a tour of the garden in the Pentland Hills, which is filled with the artist's work. The exhibition Ian Hamilton Finlay: Twilight Remembers is at the Ingleby Gallery until 27 October 2012

Art and Poetry, Andre Derain and Wordsworth

André Derain

I came across some of this mans work while looking for paintings of rainbows. I don’t think he painted rainbows, but his work is so colourful, I thought it would be perfect. I saw the most amazing rainbow a couple of days ago, it was a double rainbow and unfortunately I didn’t have my camera with me to capture it. 

 I remembered an old Poem I’ve not thought of in years, a Wordsworth poem about the rainbow. The first couple of lines go; ‘My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky’. That is exactly how I felt. So, here is the little poem by Wordsworth, some very colourful paintings by Andre Darain and some information about the artist.

André Derain (10 June 1880 – 8 September 1954) was a French artist, painter, sculptor and co-founder of Fauvism with Henri Matisse.

Born in 1880 in Chatou, Yvelines, Île-de-France, just outside Paris. He met Matisse in 1898 while studying to be an engineer and taking painting classes a hobby.  It was Matisse who persuaded Derain's parents to allow him to abandon his engineering career and devote himself to painting. And the art world should be very grateful to Matisse for doing this.

Derain and Matisse worked together during the  summer of 1905 and then displayed their colourful,.  innovative paintings at the Salon d'Automne. These vivid, unnatural colors led the critic Louis Vauxcelles to describe their work as ‘les Fauves’, or "the wild beasts", marking the start of the Fauvist movement. The remark was originally meant as an insult but the term stuck and the fauvist movement was born.  

In 1906 Derain was commissioned to paint the city of London, he produced a series of cityscapes which were colourful and alive. His work was likened to Monet by some critics of the time. Some of his views of the Thames use the Pointillist technique of multiple dots, although by this time, because the dots have become much larger, it is rather more simply the separation of colours called Divisionism.
For the full write up on Derain, go here.


Information from

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/André_Derain

William Wordsworth
 The Rainbow

 My heart leaps up when I behold  
A rainbow in the sky:  
So was it when life began;  
So is it now I am a man;  
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!  
The Child is father of the Man;  
I could wish my days to be  
Bound each to each by natural frivolity.

Earths Last Picture by Kipling, illustrated by Ian Elliot

This is one that is not going to disappear as soon as they turn off the lights. I first posted this a very long time ago as one of my early entries to the Poetry Wednesday group. This one has always stuck in my mind. I like the way it uses the metaphor of the artist and his pictures.

THE POEM I HAVE CHOSEN FOR TODAY IS

EARTHS LAST PICTURE, BY KIPLING

AND THE PAINTINGS I HAVE CHOSEN TO GO WITH THIS POEM ARE BY

IAN ELLIOT

This is taken from the following web site;

http://www.online-literature.com/kipling/

KIPLING

When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted

1892

L'Envoi To "The Seven Seas"

When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried,

When the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died,

We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it -- lie down for an aeon or two,

Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall put us to work anew.

And those that were good shall be happy; they shall sit in a golden chair;

They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair.

They shall find real saints to draw from -- Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;

They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all!

And only The Master shall praise us, and only The Master shall blame;

And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame,

But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,

Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They are!

ABOUT KIPLING

Joseph Rudyard Kipling was born, 30 December, 1865 in Bombay (now Mumbai), India. Some of Kipling’s earliest memories were of his and sister Alice’s trips to the bustling fruit market with their ayah or nanny, or her telling them Indian nursery rhymes and stories before their nap in the tropical afternoon heat. His father had an art studio which provided many happy outlets for his early creativity. The family were in the habit of taking evening walks along the Bombay Esplanade beside the Arabian Sea, the dhows bobbing on the glittering waters

Kipling enjoyed early success with his poems but soon became better known as a short story writer with his now famous portrayals of the people, history, and culture of his times. In his essay “Rudyard Kipling” George Orwell called him “the prophet of British Imperialism in its expansionist phase.” Kipling was a product of his place in history and as such often focused on the British Empire and her brave soldiers; today that aspect of his work and its inherent imperialism and ‘taming the natives’ flavour has limited his popularity. Today he is better known for The Jungle Book which has inspired  many other literary works plus its  adaptations for film and  television.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is taken from the following web site;

http://www.scottishartpaintings.co.uk/showArtist.asp?aId=50

The Artists web page can be found here;

http://www.ianelliot.com/

IAN ELLIOT

Ian Elliot was born in Glasgow in1946. He attended Glasgow School of Art in 1964 but even prior to this he  had won several medals for modern art Scottish paintings.

When he left the Glasgow School of Art he initially took up a career teaching modern art and eventually became Head of Modern Art at a large Glasgow school. He then decided to focus full time on painting contemporary art and became a working artist.

In 2003 he was a finalist of International Artist magazine for his Landscape painting.

His paintings are often inspired by his visits to the Scottish farmlands, Tuscany and Mallorca. He is quoted as saying

“Traveling extensively throughout the Scottish farmlands, an endless fascination for the Tuscan countryside and regular visits to me pied a terre on the Island of Mallorca have provided me with an endless land and seascape material creating a fusion of shimmering colours, distinctive buildings of the land, and abstract expressionistic vistas.”

And guess where I shall be going next month……..

He has two upcoming solo shows. The first is in association with Scotlandart.com Gallery, Burnfield Road in Giffnock, Glasgow. It runs from the 16 Sept - 16 Nov 2008. The second is at the House for an Art Lover in Bellahouston Park, Glasgow. This runs from 23 Sept - 3 Nov 2008. More information on these will be posted soon. You can also contact me for further details.

Poetry and Art Elizabeth Stokes and Richard De Whitt

Robert Fulton's (1765-1815) steamboat the Clermont, on the Hudson River, New York, 1861
Richard Varick De Witt

(1800-1868

This is not the sort of poem that usually appeals to me, but this one did.

To the Hudson
  by: Elizabeth Oakes-Smith (1806-1893)

  
O RIVER! gently as a wayward child
I saw thee mid the moonlight hills at rest;
Capricious thing, with thine own beauty wild,
How didst thou still the throbbings of thy breast!
Rude headlands were about thee, stooping round,
As if amid the hills to hold thy stay;
But thou didst hear the far-off ocean sound
Inviting thee from hill and vale away,
To mingle thy deep waters with its own;
And, at that voice, thy steps did onward glide,
Onward from echoing hill and valley lone.
Like thine, oh, be my course--nor turned aside,
While listening to the soundings of a land,
That like the ocean call invites me to its strand. 
 

delete reply josfreshlybrewedmood wrote on May 23, '10 His words did give life to the river in that poem, that's for sure.

delete reply jadedruid wrote on May 20, '10 It's very wistful and has a good metre. I liked it.

delete reply mitchylr wrote on May 20, '10 The jury is still out on this one, for me.

Poetrey abd Art, Robert Louis Stevenson and Myrtle Sheldon

Poetry Wednesday; Nest Eggs, Robert Louis Stevenson

Apr 7, '10 4:23 PM for everyone

    Poetry Wednesday; remaining with the seasonal subject of EGGS

Nest Eggs
By Robert Louis Stevenson
Illustrated by Myrtle Sheldon
From 'A Childs Garden Verse'. 

Birds all the summer day
    Flutter and quarrel
Here in the arbour-like
    Tent of the laurel.
Here in the fork
    The brown nest is seated;
For little blue eggs
    The mother keeps heated.
While we stand watching her
    Staring like gabies,
Safe in each egg are the
    Bird's little babies.
Soon the frail eggs they shall
    Chip, and upspringing
Make all the April woods
    Merry with singing.
Younger than we are,
    O children, and frailer,
Soon in the blue air they'll be,
    Singer and sailor.
We, so much older,
    Taller and stronger,
We shall look down on the
    Birdies no longer.
They shall go flying
    With musical speeches
High overhead in the
    Tops of the beeches.
In spite of our wisdom
    And sensible talking,
We on our feet must go
    Plodding and walking.

delete reply hedgewitch9 wrote on Apr 16, '10 I didn't have this one, I had The Water Babies :) LOVE this, must look out for it!

edit delete reply forgetmenot525 wrote on Apr 8, '10 thanks every one and yes I love Franks Erin photo too, he and I both have Erin Granddaughters. Seems this book has been pretty popular, it's a book I had as a child too but for some reason I never had a copy of it for my children. maybe I should look for one I'm pretty sure the grandkids would love it.

delete reply mitchylr wrote on Apr 8, '10 Not a poem I'm familiar with, but I really liked it. Had to smile at Frank's photo. Even the dog seems to be enjoying it.

delete reply veryfrank wrote on Apr 7, '10 'A Childs Garden Verse' has been a standard read in our family for years. Erin often reads it to the dog, no joke. Thanks for the post.

delete reply stillwandering wrote on Apr 7, '10 greenwytch said i had that book when i was a girl. ; D me too

delete reply stillwandering wrote on Apr 7, '10 Thank you for posting this, what a lovely interlude!

delete reply nemo4sun wrote on Apr 7, '10 :)

delete reply greenwytch wrote on Apr 7, '10 i had that book when i was a girl. ; D