Try to keep some perspective on this

It's All About Your Perspective.

While wandering on the National Mall in Washington DC, I chanced upon the National Gallery of Art, so I went in there to have a look around.

What a beautiful place.

Especially interesting to me was the special exhibition on the work of the French artist, Gustave Caillebotte.

http://www.nga.gov/content/ngaweb/exhibitions/2015/gustave-caillebotte.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gustave_Caillebotte

In the background of my unauthorized photograph, which you see here, is the canvas that Monsieur Caillebotte painted in 1877. The painting hangs upon a wall in the next room, beyond the room I was standing in while I snapped the pic:

Not visible to you is an explanatory placard that is fastened on the wall next to his famous artwork. Some art historian has explained therein that Gustave's work reflected a new influence on the painterly art. Photography, the emergent technology of that that day and time, latter-19th-century, had a profound effect on the artist's composition, perspective and use of focus in certain areas of the painting while rendering foreground and background slightly out of focus.

Now in my iPhone photograph, the whole picture is out of focus. I did this on purpose, imitating, as it were, the French impressionists, all of whom had rendered their oil-on-canvas opuses slightly out of focus, as if they had forgotten to put on their glasses when they went out to labor at the easel that day in 1877.

I can relate to this, because I am nearsighted as a bat; my profound appreciation for turn-of--the-20thCentury is perhaps related to this dysfunction in my eyeballs. I'm like one of those less-than-perfect persons you see in the Latrec paintings that came later.

So you can see here that I myself have entered into the gallery of impressionist phone-artists of the early 21st Century. And in my opinion this photograph is an artistic extension of the work that was pioneered by Messers Caillebotte, Renoir, Monet, Manet, Matisse etcetera etcetera.

The gentleman on the left in my etoîle image here was doing his job well; so he was obliged to tell me that I couldn't take pics in that room.

I did not know that (and I am telling the truth), I said to him.

"There's a sign at the entrance to the room," he said.

Oh.

Nevertheless, the image was already captured in my mobile device, so hey, what the heck, I thought I'd share my perspective with you.

Have a nice day. And remember. . .

As you travel through life, brother and sister, whatever be your goal, keep your eye on the detail, not on the whole.

Or maybe it's the other way around.

Anyway, try to keep your highest priorities in focus. As for the artsy stuff, that focus element is not necessarily essential.

Just please keep it in perspective, so that you know what you're looking at while you're looking at it, if that's possible.



Glass Chimera

A Scene at the Lincoln Memorial

Yesterday we drove up from Charlotte to Washington. After checking into the hotel, we had dinner in the room, then launched out for a nocturnal walk to the National Mall and Lincoln Memorial. By 'n by, being doused by a rainstorm we found ourselves taking cover under this unfamiliar rotunda which turned out to be something called the D.C. War Memorial. I snapped this pic:

which turned out to be a much clearer photograph than the one I attempted a few minutes later in the drizzling D.C. night at the Korean War Memorial:

This very dark image of ghostly soldier statues seems to reflect a dim commemoration of a war that was taking place on the other side of the world about the time I entered this world in 1951.

My photographic success brightened considerably when, a few tromping minutes later, we arrived at the Lincoln Memorial and caught this view in the dripping night.

This luminescent sight reminded me of our arrival in Greece a few months ago when, having just stepped out of an Athens Metro station we caught a similarly eerie first sighting of the distant Acropolis, which seemed to hover at the apex of an ancient high-ground hallowed spot.

But that was then, and this was now, which is to say, last night:

We ascended the glistening steps of the Lincoln Memorial, and when we got up there this is what we saw:

Then, wandering over to the glyphed wall-inscription of our war-striven President's message at Gettysburg battlefield. I was reminded of a scene from my 2007 novel, Glass half-Full. In chapter 6 of that book, we find Marcus and Bridget, a young couple who have recently met, gazing at the inscribed words of the President's famous speech. Here's the scene:

They came to an inner sanctum. Carved on the white marble wall in front of them were the words of the slain President's Gettysburg address. Marcus stopped, taking in the enormity of it, both physically and philosophically. He was looking at the speech intently. Bridget was looking at him.

After a few moments: "Isn't that amazing?"

"Yes." She could see that he was thinking hard about something. The great chamber echoed a murmur of humankind.

"Supreme irony." The longing of a nation's soul reverberated through the memorial. . .in the soundings of children, the whisperings of passersby. Deep within Marcus' soul, something sacred was stirring, and she could see it coming forth.

"The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but can never forget what they did here." He was reading aloud Lincoln's words on the white wall.

But for the echoes of a million people who had passed through this place, there was silence. After a moment, Bridget responded ". . .and yet, there it is, carved on the wall for all to see. 'The world will little note what we say here. . .' "

"Right, Bridget. Isn't it amazing?"

Glass half-Full