Silver Sun

Silver Sun


Arthur Dove, on how he formulated his art:

There is no such thing as abstraction. It is extraction, gravitation towards a certain direction, and minding your own business. If the extract be clear enough its value will exist.


For my birthday Chicago decided to give me a break on the weather. My sister-in-law sent me flowers, and it feels like I’m looking at spring with the weight of winter just behind, all the while knowing that this cannot last.

But for now – a poem by Philip Larkin:


On longer evenings
Light, chill and yellow,
Bathes the serene
Foreheads of houses.
A thrush sings,
In the deep bare garden,
Its fresh-peeled voice
Astonishing the brickwork.
It will be spring soon,
It will be spring soon –
And I, whose childhood
Is a forgotten boredom,
Feel like a child
Who comes on a scene
Of adult reconciling,
And can understand nothing
But the unusual laughter,
And starts to be happy.


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