My Photo

Who was Cassandra?

  • In the Iliad, she is described as the loveliest of the daughters of Priam (King of Troy), and gifted with prophecy. The god Apollo loved her, but she spurned him. As a punishment, he decreed that no one would ever believe her. So when she told her fellow Trojans that the Greeks were hiding inside the wooden horse...well, you know what happened.


« Back to Brooklyn, via the Village | Main | Sweet peas »

August 19, 2013


We agree; it is form, and also movement, because the essence of a garden is the wind and light as well as the shape. Thank you for this instructive post and I also hope you link to the young man's interview.

Duchesse: Thanks for commenting - I was beginning to think that there was something off-putting about this post! And what an insightful comment, too, for the play of wind on a garden is one thing that distinguishes it from static sculpture. The interview will have to wait, as he is collecting material for a graphic novel and won't be publishing any of it for a while.

Just read this now, Beth, and at the end it was just one huge OH in mouth, mind, heart. All of our work in whatever medium, our lives, writings, prayers, can draw benefit from the exercises and the persistence you both advocate and demonstrate.

Thank you so much, Vivian!

How interesting! I like the way you work through things.

Have you ever tried doing monochromatic watercolour wash? You make a very watery mixture of Indian Red and Indigo (apparently this is similar to what the early topographical artists used) and then keep layering it for all the different tones. It's quite beautiful.

No, Andrea, I haven't tried that -- but I will! Thanks a lot for the suggestion. I didn't know about that at all.

Beth, I like reading your thoughts about the working process. I too have always loved Van Gogh's drawings and wondered about what makes them so different from many other artists' landscapes. One thing is, I think, his understanding of Japanese prints and another is the movement he senses in nature and his translation of it into a kind of calligraphy. In the drawing above, for instance, he's got a wave-like curve coming from the top left down to the bottom centre and all the plant-forms follow it. The line of the path going up to the house is like the end of the wave about to turn back on itself. Every little graphic sign he draws follows a pattern of movement. But of course that still doesn't explain his very personal response to nature and to form in general!

The comments to this entry are closed.