My little dog always barks at this old man in the neighborhood. I don't know why, perhaps he threatens her in some way- he probably smells scary to her.
I went to San Luis Obispo last week to attend the opening of my show at the SLO Art Center. As part of the event, I was interviewed by Crissa Hewitt, an artist and radio show host, for the local NPR affiliate- KCBX. The podcast of the interview can be downloaded
here
I have been thinking a lot about Gerard Hopkin's "
the Windhover" lately. I remember how forcefully this work struck me when I first discovered it some thirty years ago. I'm not sure if it is completly wonderful (I could do without the last six lines- but I seem to connect with the first eight lines at a very deep level.) I think this poem is about the beginning of the end. The silence in it is miraculous. For me, it explains the duality of existential lonliness versus un-self-conscious exhiliration and transformation. Despite the looming futility of all this, everything is O.K.
My little dog always barks at this old man in the neighborhood. I don't know why, perhaps he threatens her in some way- he probably smells scary to her.
I went to San Luis Obispo last week to attend the opening of my show at the SLO Art Center. As part of the event, I was interviewed by Crissa Hewitt, an artist and radio show host, for the local NPR affiliate- KCBX. The podcast of the interview can be downloaded here
I have been thinking a lot about Gerard Hopkin's "the Windhover" lately. I remember how forcefully this work struck me when I first discovered it some thirty years ago. I'm not sure if it is completly wonderful (I could do without the last six lines- but I seem to connect with the first eight lines at a very deep level.) I think this poem is about the beginning of the end. The silence in it is miraculous. For me, it explains the duality of existential lonliness versus un-self-conscious exhiliration and transformation. Despite the looming futility of all this, everything is O.K.
