For decades the leading nature writer has been collecting unusual words for landscapes and natural phenomena – from aquabob to zawn. It’s a lexicon we need to cherish in an age when a junior dictionary finds room for ‘broadband’ but has no place for ‘bluebell’
Favorite piece from Lesson 8.
Interested in how little villages evolve in abstract paintings. Also – landscapes and distant cities.
Feeling very fond of March – the way it comes in. A month that’s tied closely with the weather. Wild and unpredictable like transitions can be.
Ready to say goodbye to February.
Waiting for a loved one to get back in touch…someday.
It’s still cold.
Walking in the neighborhood.
A longer route takes me down Woodway Road to Hoyt Street. There are no sidewalks. Snow is piled everywhere. A few patches of wet mud reveal the state of the ground.
Hawk hunting at the neighbor’s bird feeder.
From the lesson focusing on unity (in color)
The thrill of painting stripes, in a variety of greens. There is some mystique about green, that it is hard to learn about, hard to use. I blunder in like a beginner.
Regarding the philosopher Édouard Glissant, Teju Cole writes:
Thinking about DeCarava’s work in this way reminds me of the philosopher Édouard Glissant, who was born in Martinique, educated at the Sorbonne and profoundly involved in anticolonial movements of the ’50s and ’60s. One of Glissant’s main projects was an exploration of the word “opacity.” Glissant defined it as a right to not have to be understood on others’ terms, a right to be misunderstood if need be. The argument was rooted in linguistic considerations: It was a stance against certain expectations of transparency embedded in the French language. Glissant sought to defend the opacity, obscurity and inscrutability of Caribbean blacks and other marginalized peoples. External pressures insisted on everything being illuminated, simplified and explained. Glissant’s response: No.
One of my cherished quotes from Mary Poppins: “I never explain anything.”
From the lesson on achieving variety (using color)
This piece grew on me. It didn’t hold together at first. Then I came to appreciate the contrasts.