Posted tagged ‘Georges de la Tour’

Epiphanies (of Sorts) around Easter

April 21, 2014

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Epiphanies (of Sorts) around Easter

Easter, as a child, meant ham,
a family tradition,
which I thought back then
was a subtle declaration
that we were not Jewish
though I realize now
was probably the only big meat to hand as Spring sprang
when my parents grew up in Midwest farm country.

My in-laws in the East ate lamb,
which always seemed to me
a rather poor-taste communion with Him,
who taketh away
the sins of the world, blood pooling
on the platter,
but I realize now
was likely the least wasteful fresh meat
Springs.

So, with such food for thought nudging me,
I realized, today, Holy Saturday, that the child whose hands glove glow
in a Georges de la Tour painting, my absolute favorite
when I too was about that age,
is not a girl with her father, also bald like mine, but
Jesus himself with Joseph (“Joseph, the Carpenter”).
De La Tour’s Joseph,
according to Wikepedia, uses an auger shaped
like a crucifix–

And all this time, I thought it was simply
a strikingly beautiful painting, showing, amazingly, how light shines
in dark places and can be caught by hands
shaped by pigment, or
the love of it,
and can be fixed too
as long as the hues hold true
and are kept in place by the rabbit-skin glue
used to prepare the painting surface.

Which is something else we don’t really think of much–
the stuff of paintings,
like the sources of ham and lamb–
all flames of a sort that light us,
waxing our grip,
without, we hope, burning
our fingers–

But I wonder, today,
in this Spring sun
so much brighter
than a candle, how we redeem
the squeals, how
are they too deemed necessary?

All I can think of is the word
“painstakingly–”

************************
Here’s very much of a draft poem for some day of April National Poetry month. I’m sorry if I’ve worn out the Easter theme–but here it is. The painting above is by Georges De La Tour, “Joseph the Carpenter.” I do not claim any copyright in the photograph and think/hope this is fair use. I am linking to the open link night of with real toads. (Again, by the way, I am trying to return all comments, but it is a bit hard right now. I will catch up and I thank you for your kind visits!)

“Art Appreciation”: You Can Find Them Anywhere. (Even Orleans?)

February 5, 2011

"Joan of Arc (With Elephant"), Jules Bastien-LePage (with Karin Gustafson) (At the Met.)

When I was a child, I was transfixed by this painting.  First, I loved Joan of Arc; secondly,  the surface is so smooth and photographic,  it seemed inconceivable to me that it could have actually been painted.  When you are little, you tend to be a sucker for technique.  And drama. (Ah, drama!)   And crazy eyes.

Here’s a poem inspired by it, and others of a slightly similar ilk.  (Ah drama!)

Art Appreciation

Sebastian run with arrows pierced the halls,
reaming eye and mind’s eye too
with piteous wounds, his pale trunk
like the finest china except it dripped.
The visitor, a child, struggled to replace him with
inspired skin, a hand around a
candle, glow within,
(Georges de la Tour plunging in.)
Farther afield (a continent and several galleries away),
she found a Joan of Arc, whose eyes beamed
kaleidoscopically against Pre-Raphaelite bark,
a silvered willow.  Caught
inside that psychedelic gleam,
she became a connoisseur.

(As always, all rights reserved.)

(Also as always, if you like poetry, check out “Going On Somewhere” by Karin Gustafson, Diana Barco, and Jason Martin on Amazon.  If you like elephants, check out 1 Mississippi.)

St. Sebastian Poem – “Art Appreciation”

March 5, 2010

St. Sebastian

Art Appreciation

Sebastian run with arrows pierced the halls,
reaming eye and mind’s eye too
with piteous wounds, his pale trunk like
the finest china except it dripped.
The visitor, a child, struggled to replace him with
inspired skin, a hand around
a candle, glow within.
(Georges de la Tour plunged in.)
Farther afield (a continent and several galleries away),
she found a Joan of Arc, whose eyes beamed
kaleidoscopically against Pre-Raphaelite bark,
a silvered willow.  Caught
inside that psychedelic gleam,
she became a connoisseur.

(All rights reserved.)