I can't remember the context, but I heard a while ago that everybody makes a mistake every hour. This idea intrigued me, so I think about it sometimes. They can't all be significant mistakes, you know? There must be a big variety. Pondering that inspired today's poem:
Isn't it amazing how art can time travel? Someone can compose a song in say, 1824 in Austria, and the work can travel through time and space to move me today. Author Kristin Cashore says, "I have this problem wherein once the ninth starts playing, I need to listen through to the end. It doesn't matter what other thing I was supposed to be doing; now I'm listening to Beethoven's ninth." Beethoven himself couldn't hear the ninth when he was composing it. So there he was, really off in his own world, creating something that would speak to people far away, many years later. Isn't that magical?
Arts education aids students in skills needed in the workplace: flexibility, the ability to solve problems and communicate, the ability to learn new skills, to be creative and innovative, and to strive for excellence.
~Joseph M. Calahan, Xerox
Reflections star, Wolfsville Elementary School
The Arts and Sciences, essential to the prosperity of the State and to the ornament of human life, have a primary claim to the encouragement of every lover of his country and mankind.
I've talked about the PTA Reflections program a number of times before (here,here,here). The poem I'm sharing today was written by my daughter, then 17, for the Reflections competition literature category. The theme was "The Magic of a Moment."
Where I find poems by Ariana Yeatts-Lonske
At day break,
The blushing sun paints haiku
On my front yard
With shades of morning dew
On the way to work,
The man on the corner of 47th and 5th
Holds up a sign that reads
STARVING VETERAN. GOD BLESS.
But if I squint a little,
The words rearrange themselves into
A quatrain about loss and solitude
As I call a cab,
I am pelted with afternoon sonnets
That glisten on the slick street
And soak through my dress shirt,
Clamoring for a paper home
At my niece’s 5th birthday party,
I pluck a sestina about dreams
From behind her ear
As she explains to me that
She is going to be a butterfly
When she grows up
The stars knock on my window,
Showing me how they’ve abandoned
To spell out
I decided to help with Reflections again this year, despite what I said at Christmastime. My husband talked me into it, actually! I will only have one school to work on this time, so that will help. (Someone might ask whether Ariana won anything with her poem...she did! She was thrilled!)
"King Frederick of Prussia thought that it was 'unkingly' of his son to play the flute and read poetry, so he did everything he could think of to prevent him from doing so, including executing the prince's best friend in his presence. After Old Fred's death, Young Fred continued to play the flute, with composer Johann Quantz as his teacher and flutemaker. His people considered him such a success as king--engaging in such artsy endeavors as starting the Berlin opera--that he became known as King Frederick The Great."
--Russell Scott, paraphrasing historian Robert Scott and writer Kathy Russell
...He views the tree,
The great tree standing in the garden, say,
As thrusting downward its vast spread and weight,
Growing its green height from the dark watered earth,
And as suspended weightless in the sky,
Haled forth and held up by the hair of its head.
He follows through the flowing of the forms
From the divisions of the trunk out to
The veinings of the leaf, and the leaf’s fall.
His pencil meditates the many in the one
After the method in the confluence of rivers,
The running of ravines on mountainsides,
And in the deltas of the nerves; he sees
How things must be continuous with themselves
As with whole worlds that they themselves are not,
In order that they may be so transformed.
He stands where the eternity of thought
Opens upon perspective time and space;
He watches mind become incarnate; then
He paints the tree.
The beauty is in the walking -- we are betrayed by destinations.
Walking is one of my favorite things to do, especially in nice weather. It's been a little rough taking our puppy out this winter, and there's still ice on our regular walking paths, but I can see gentler weather coming.
Here's one more quote about today's topic: “[Walking] is the perfect way of moving if you want to see into the life of things. It is the one way of freedom. If you go to a place on anything but your own feet you are taken there too fast, and miss a thousand delicate joys that were waiting for you by the wayside.”
~Elizabeth von Arnim
...He appears to be smiling out at us as if he knew
we would be amused by the extraordinary hat on his head
which is fitted around the brim with candle holders,
a device that allowed him to work into the night.
You can only wonder what it would be like
to be wearing such a chandelier on your head
as if you were a walking dining room or concert hall.
Alas, though he was loved by the Norwegian people, the established art critics and publishers failed to thoroughly appreciate his work. Theodor Kittelsen died famous but utterly poor, and it was only after his death that he was awarded an artist´s salary by the state, the money being paid out to his widow, Inga Kristine (born Dahl) and their 9 children.
~The Art of TH Kittelsen
Music rhythms are mathematical patterns. When you hear a song and your body starts moving with it, your body is doing math. The kids in their parents' garage practicing to be a band may not realize it, but they're also practicing math.
Sharing a song that one of my kids performed recently and another that she is still rehearsing. The former, "Instant Concert," contains bits of 30 songs. Before my daughter's band played "Instant Concert," the conductor said she would give a free cd to anyone who could name all 30 songs. I don't think anyone won it!
Tchaikovsky Research says: "The [Slavonic] March was commissioned by the director of the Russian Musical Society, Nikolay Rubinstein, for a concert in aid of victims of the conflict between Serbia and Turkey. Tchaikovsky received the request around 20 September 1876, and the completed full score is dated 25 September." 5 days!!!