Fernand Khnopff, Hortensia, 1884
1. The Met's latest acquisition is a beautiful and unusual one by Fernand Khnopff, a still life with a sitter in the background void of detail to the point that one may think her inclusion a matter of mere design. This short piece by Met Assistant Curator Alison Hokanson introduces the painting and the painter, as well as theory about the image's potential photographic source. Khnopff is worthy of deeper study. As Hokanson mentions, Khnopff's more well known work is typical of the closed door habits of the later 19th century, which must have been one of the strangest times to live.
http://www.metmuseum.org/about-the-museum/now-at-the-met/2015/fernand-khnopff-hortensia
2. "He didn't look anyone in the eyes. He was mumbling. When people asked him to speak up he would boom one word and no more. As far as sentence structure, there was none."
Richard Nixon, on May 9, 1970, got out of bed and took an impromptu trip to the Lincoln Memorial. The visit to the monument is bizarre, full of competing accounts of what happened. The Atlantic has an account of this very strange moment in our history:
http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2011/11/i-am-not-a-kook-richard-nixons-bizarre-visit-to-the-lincoln-memorial/248443/
3. I have to admit that the following essay is a bit of a mixed bag. What follows are the reflections of Sidney Hook, philosopher and long time friend of Diana and Lionel Trilling. I am fan of Trilling, he is a critic who I take very seriously, yet I am not sure I was ready for this essay.
https://www.commentarymagazine.com/articles/the-trillings/
4. Chris Power certainly does not seem impressed with the new collection of Chekhov stories,
The Prank: The Best of Young Chekhov. He does, however, teach you a fair amount about Chekhov, including a close reading of his revolutionary style, while he is not recommending the book:
http://www.newstatesman.com/culture/books/2015/09/young-chekhov-comedian-spite-himself
5. I am not a fan of the poetry of Kenneth Goldsmith, but I was fascinated by this profile on him in the New Yorker. If you want to sense of what is stake in contemporary poetry or, like me, are just fascinated by that strange very very small world, this is worth reading:
http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/10/05/something-borrowed-wilkinson?mbid=social_facebook
Poem for the Week:
6. It is Fall in my mind, though L.A. hasn't given me any weather cues or reasons for making the transition. I am not sure why, but the falling leaves and the chill in the air (all imagined) made me think of Jane Kenyon's beautiful poetry. I have a beautiful volume of Kenyon's poetry, published by Greywolf press in 1997, with a luminous still life on the cover with what must be a wheel of hard parmesan cheese right in the center. I am not sure if it is Kenyon far too early death at the age of 47 or simple reality of her verse, but it seems to always be Fall in her poetry:
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/three-songs-end-summer
"The days are bright
and free, bright and free.
Then why did I cry today
for an hour, with my whole
body, the way babies cry?"
One Click Deeper:
Donald Hall, Jane Kenyon's husband, wrote a wonderful reflection on the poet after her death. It is very moving and can be found here: