Joy and Kenne in Bisbee, Arizona — Computer art by kenne
Archive for the ‘Edward Hopper’ Tag
Hopperesque Art Leave a comment
On a porch one afternoon
I took a selfie of Joy and me,
Of course, you may not think so.
Some Go Hunting For Light 6 comments
Edward Hopper’s Lighthouse Village, Cape Elizabeth (1929)
Maine house, 1998, by Michael H. Coles
There is so much I love about the art of Edward Hopper, which is why I continue to turn to his work — so on the pulse of us as Americans. I have never been to Maine, let through painting like Lighthouse Village, I feel as if I grow up in Cape Elizabeth — his inspiration allows my imagination to capture reality.
“I once told Hopper that he shows us who we are,” said poet William Carlos Williams. “He’d have no part of my enthusiasm, or extravagance. ‘Yes, I try,’ he said–and then he spoke about ‘light,” how hard he looks for it. He told me to go ‘hunting’ for light, and I liked hearing him use that word–seeing his face get lit up as he spoke!” (“Seeking Maine’s Light,” DoubleTake, Winter 2000)
The Michael H. Coles photograph of a Maine house taken not far from where Hopper painted Lighthouse Village illustrates how Hopper was able to capture the light.
kenne
Edward Hopper, Self-portrait
Edward Hopper and the House by the Railroad (1925)
by Edward Hirsch
Out here in the exact middle of the day,
This strange, gawky house has the expression
Of someone being stared at, someone holding
His breath underwater, hushed and expectant;
This house is ashamed of itself, ashamed
Of its fantastic mansard rooftop
And its pseudo-Gothic porch, ashamed
of its shoulders and large, awkward hands.
The House by the Railroad by Edward Hopper 1925
But the man behind the easel is relentless.
He is as brutal as sunlight, and believes
The house must have done something horrible
To the people who once lived here
Because now it is so desperately empty,
It must have done something to the sky
Because the sky, too, is utterly vacant
And devoid of meaning. There are no
Trees or shrubs anywhere–the house
Must have done something against the earth.
All that is present is a single pair of tracks
Straightening into the distance. No trains pass.
Now the stranger returns to this place daily
Until the house begins to suspect
That the man, too, is desolate, desolate
And even ashamed. Soon the house starts
To stare frankly at the man. And somehow
The empty white canvas slowly takes on
The expression of someone who is unnerved,
Someone holding his breath underwater.
And then one day the man simply disappears.
He is a last afternoon shadow moving
Across the tracks, making its way
Through the vast, darkening fields.
This man will paint other abandoned mansions,
And faded cafeteria windows, and poorly lettered
Storefronts on the edges of small towns.
Always they will have this same expression,
The utterly naked look of someone
Being stared at, someone American and gawky.
Someone who is about to be left alone
Again, and can no longer stand it.
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Between Light And Shadows — Making Something Visible That Might Otherwise Be Invisible 6 comments
“Morning Sun” Painting by Edward Hopper
Life and art are defined by what lies between light and shadows. In Holland Cotter’s April 30, 2007 article in the New York Times, he wrote “A certain slant of light was Edward Hopper’s thing. And he made it our thing, hard-wired it into our American brains:”
Every since seeing Edward Hopper’s, “Nighthawks” at the Art Institute of Chicago, as a young man, I have been seduced by his work — not because he hard-wired my brain, but because of the human ability to distinguish between an object and its background. It is the contrast between light and shadows that catches the eye, which is why Hopper’s work is so seductive — it the essence of the “Hopper Effect: the impression of everyday life touched with secular sanctity. “
Poet L.E. Sissman was so captivated by Hopper’s work that he wrote “American Light: A Hopper Retrospective”. Written in five parts, the first part subtitled, “Hopper”.
A man, a plan, a spandrel touched with fire,
A morning-tinted cornice, a lit spire,
A clapboard gable beetled with the brow-
Shadows of lintels, a glazed vacancy
In shut-up shopfronts, an ineffably
Beautiful emptiness of sunlight in
Bare rooms of which he was the sole inhabitant:
The morning and the evening of his life
Rotated, a lone sun, about the plinth
On which he stood in granite, limned by light
That lasted on day long and then went out.
Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks”
Yes, it’s all about what falls between the light and the shadows, as Joyce Carol Oats writes on Hopper’s “Nighthawks” in Transforming Vision – Writers on Art:
The three men are fully clothed, long sleeves,
even hats, though it’s indoors, and brightly lit,
and there’s a women. The woman is wearing
a short-sleeved red dress cut to expose her arms,
a curve of her creamy chest; she’s contemplating
a cigarette in her right hand, thinking that
her companion has finally left his wife but
can she trust him? Her heavy-lidded eyes,
pouty lipsticked mouth, she has the redhead’s
true pallor like skill milk, damned good-looking
and she guesses she knows it but what exactly
has it gotten her so far, and where? — he’ll start
to feel guilty in a few days, she knows
the signs, an actual smell, sweaty, rancid, like
dirty socks; he’ll slip away to make telephone calls. . .
“. . . People the vacuum with American light.” — the last line in T.S. Sissman’s poem on Edward Hopper.
“There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge…” — Rod Serling, Twilight Zone.
I feel that in the images I capture, I’m always trying to capture that middle ground between light and shadow — maybe Edward Hopper was too.
Some may think of the space between light and the shadow as the twilight zone, I think of it as what the Spanish poet Federico García Lorca called duende, which as Edward Hirsch has put it, “. . . it makes something visible that might otherwise be invisible, that has been swimming under the surface all along.”
kenne
Between Light and Shadows — Image by kenne
Related articles
- Edward Hopper’s Paintings as Photographs (NSFW) (tracesofthesoul.wordpress.com)
- Solitude, Loneliness, and Edward Hopper’s Message (healthstream.typepad.com)
- Essay #2 – Edward Hopper (hljohnsuark.wordpress.com)
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Those Low Down Casino Blues 1 comment
Wild Horse Pass Hotel & Casino Libby — Image by kenne
He set late at night,
in a “Nighthawks” setting
wishing the night was day —
busted, with those
low down casino blues.
No hotel room, and
you know it’s an’t easy
with these blues
knocking him sideways —
he’s at the ATM, confident
his luck has changed
and the trumpets will sound.
Dozing at the Pass,
laying awake dreaming, of a
wild horse ride to paradise,
carrying him through
the blue waters,
awakening —
will the nightmare
never end, so he can
just fade away?
— kenne
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Ken & Mary’s Blues Project October 2008 — Revisited 5 comments
Sonny Boy Terry, Rich DelGrosso & The Moe Hansum Band, October 2008 @ Ken & Mary’s Blues Project House Concert — Images by kenne
One of the best house concerts anywhere, Ken & Mary’s Blues Project, will be celebrating its 19th year with special guests Jonn Del Toro Richardson and Rich DelGrosso, October 15, 2011. As pictured above, Rich has made many appearances since moving to Houston, but from my recollection, this will be Houstonian Jonn Del Toro Richardson’s first time at the Blues Project. If I’m wrong on that, I’m sure Ken & Mary will let me know — what I do know is this will be their first time together in the woods of east Montgomery County.
Joy and I have been privilege to see Jonn and Rich perform many times, with many of Houston’s best blues musicians. Because of the following each of these guys have in their own right, this should be the biggest Ken & Mary’s Blues Project ever — get ready to camp out! You can get more information on this fall event and get on Ken & Mary’s email list by emailing to marken3@earthlink.net
Now that we have move to Tucson, the thing I try to do is keep some of my blues folks, because they are a part of who I am, or want to be, or might have been; people who came my way, by accident or incident, and got me going, kept me going — oh yes,caused me to now cross new readers paths. So, I keep an eye on all my traveling companions and do well to dream of down the road, since someone might show up who brings a fresh breath of air and makes our trip a bit more exciting. Sometimes we need to knock the tiredness out, letting some new energy in as we continue down the road.
The people who have passed through Ken & Mary’s Blues Project are a validation of keeping an eye on one’s traveling companions so we are able to meet at the crossroads where with our imagination, like viewing an Edward Hopper canvass through which we see life’s affection and frustration and occasionally, subservience.
Whether a blues musician or not, we are all singing about life’s passersby. Some are blessed with the skills to interpret the experience better than others, even so, “. . . my righthand itches” — see you on down the road.
kenne
Becoming is Superior to Being 