“There is a parallel, I think, but like so many literary parallels it’s a plain fact that people engaged in writing about humanity . . . are likely . . . to see something of the same thing. They’re both looking, after all, at the same object, so it would be really surprising if they weren’t literary parallels to be drawn between this book and that.”
–William Golding, quoted in James Baker, William Golding: A Critical Study, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1965.
This quote reminded me of a number of obvious things, like Heaven, or the argument from beauty. I would be curious what readers think, of course. The quote refers to the art of the noted 20th-Century still life painter Giorgio Morandi, and specifically to this piece at the Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C.
“Ultimately, these once humble objects, twice transformed, determine their own atmosphereless, but solid, indisputable world. The resulting microcosm beguiles, not only in the subtlety of color and suavity of paint, but by the suggestion that more harmonious worlds do, in fact, exist.”
—From Master Paintings from the Philips Collection by Eleanor Green and Robert Cafritz, Fort Lee: Penhurst Books, 1981.
I liked comic books as a child. My brother and I had a compilation series of comics called “Starstream,” consisting of science fiction works by noted authors–Isaac Asimov, A. E. Van Vogt, and many others–from the pulp/paperback era, adapted by famous comic artists. My favorite was a story by the horror writer Robert Bloch (best known for “Psycho”), titled “And the Blood Ran Green.” It was a harrowing tale of a crew of Earth astronauts who visit a planet covered by dense, rain-forest-like undergrowth everywhere, inhabited by strange, intelligent plant creatures who immediately want to hunt them down. Even in comic book form, the story was terrifying; I can only imagine what a great and frightening movie it would make. Now that I’m more familiar with his work, I can definitely see the influence of H. P. Lovecraft, who was a friend and mentor to Bloch, on the latter writer’s work.
In the comic version, perhaps the most impressive thing was the way the artist for the Starstream version, Nevio Zaccara, created an aesthetic that captured the garish green overgrowth of the plants on the alien planet. The art made it clear that this was a sinister place, not the pastoral setting that a reader would normally associate with the color green. I’m reminded of the way that film director Werner Herzog, in the documentary about his jungle filmmaking titled “Burden of Dreams,” describes the Amazon rain forest as a place he loves “against my better judgement.”
I took this picture during a visit to the normally-not-frightening-at-all McCrillis Gardens in Bethesda, Maryland, not far from where I live. It’s a roughly 5-acre property with a wide variety of flowering plants, shrubs, and trees, providing a small oasis in the suburbia around Washington, D.C. I took this picture with one of the analog filters, which darkened the underbrush and (to my eye) made the greens look gaudy and otherworldly, reminding me just a bit of that comic story that scared me as a child. (This is not to claim that my work is the equivalent of Zaccara, only that it reminds me of that of the artist just a bit.) Take a look and see if you agree.
(By the way, you can read “And the Blood Ran Green” in its entirety here, although I very much encourage you to buy the original comic, which is available on Ebay and Alibris, among other places.)
As I mentioned in the front matter for issue #8, I took the picture of my brother’s bugle (on the address page) way back in 1983, never dreaming that it would later become an illustration in a literary magazine. Life can surprise you, sometimes. This was taken with my old, ordinary point-and-shoot film camera, but it’s one of the few ones from back than that I’m proud of enough to share it. The picture in the Review is in black-and-white, of course, but I thought people might like to see the color version.
Good news: the B.B.R. issue #7 just hit the streets! It includes work by the poet Sandra Kohler and the artist Serse Luigetti, among others. Please check it out! As always, a single issue is $4 if you mention this blog post (the normal price is $5). You can send Paypal to aporco at fastmail dot fm, or a check made out to Anthony Porco to Box 110, Savage, MD 20763. Thanks as always!
It’s been a long time since I was able to update it, and it’s therefore a bit out of date, but I am still proud of some of the writing on my favorite cities/towns/parks page from my old-school web site, especially the list and descriptions of favorite state parks in different states.
I am happy to announce that the B.B.R.’s issue #7 has now hit the streets; it’s our special issue devoted to the American West, including pieces from Agnes Vojta and W. Roger Carlisle (among others), and pictures from many western states in both the United States and Mexico. There’s also an excerpt from the book, a new version of the closing chapter, focusing on my visit to the Apache Trail area in Arizona years ago, complete with one of my drawings of that landscape.
A copy is just $4 if you mention this ad; please check it out!
Also, just as a reminder, basic information on how to buy or subscribe to the B.B.R. is available on our web site. Thanks as always for your interest!
This is a reflection I wrote many years ago, back in 1996, after a trip to the Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore. It’s about a piece by 19th-Century American impressionist Alfred Sisley that I saw there. As you probably know, writings about artworks are often called ekprhastic works. I’ve included a link, so you can decide for yourself if I captured the feeling of the painting.
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From Sisley’s “View of St. Mammes” painting at the Walters in Baltimore:
Sisley creates places that I would like to visit, and where I would like to relax. His work has the same love and wholeness as a deep breath, exhaled, relaxing the bronchial tubes. When he paints a reflection in water, he does not do it boldly or arrogantly; there are no strident cries of, “Look! I’m painting a reflection!” Instead, I am quietly drawn into a reflection that looks more like it happened than was painted, perfectly natural, and as cool and timeless as a Mondrain or a Van Doseberg. His work is not wall-paper, however; the sky and the river are electric, again rewarding those who linger, as the reflection does. The tiny boat partly concealed by the river-reeds seems almost like a comic element–a bit lost, perhaps like a Beckett character, or like us before we saw this painting.
We recently took a fun day trip on Amtrak to Wilmington, Delaware, which I think is one of the underrated cities in the Northeast Corridor. I took this picture of the Wilmington train station’s clock tower on our way out, using the same yellow filter I used for the previous sunset picture in Colorado. I was pleased with the result, which canceled the bluing that the phone camera tends to add to evening or dusk shots. In other news, I just got a blue filter at my local camera shop, Dominion Camera in northern Virginia, and I’ve started to use it for local pictures. I’ll try to post one soon.
I have always liked rhyming poetry, and I’ve never thought that you had to choose between rhythmical or free-verse poetry. I wrote this back in the mid-1990’s; a friend did the calligraphy.
(For those viewing this post with a JAWS or similar reader, the poem reads: “Fly licks sweet things on and on/Spreading pestilence upon/Others’ feasts but who knows what/Germs invade the poor fly’s gut?”)
Out West Writings 