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Monday, December 24, 2012

picasso, warhol, hodler

How typical, and that's what one tries not to mind (presumably) -- I wrote a piece for the Oxford Gazette, as usual, on the various exhibitions I'd been privileged to see recently, on and on about Picasso in Black and White, Matisse in twos and threes, and the 60 artists looking at Warhol, some of which was delightfully illuminating, AND the second time, they didn't pop the silver balloons in the last room.. thinking I would just transfer it to here, a blog i sometimes feels like writing, and guess what? now on AOL, I can't call up under "sent" the messages to find out what I wrote, AND THAT IS JUST FINE.

if you don't feel like writing something the second time, it may not have been worth it the first...

Anyway, and this is delightful, if on Fcebook you are looking up the Neue Galerie, and you had longed, as I  had, to see the Hodler show, and you hadn't gotten there (as so often happens, you are going but then, oh, you have time, and you don't), well, I do, another week, AND there is a 5 dollar off the admission if you are looking it up, so I will certainly (my "certainly" means, I hope) go sometimes when family has left (alas) and things are back to whatever one would consider normal... I love his doublings, and those strange symmetries and elongated figures -- like Jacques Bellange, that strange French mannerist I keep thinking of, well, sometimes..

we saw Amour.. and it truly is about just that, and I  have something to say about the pigeon, which comes from Kay Sage writing about the superstition of a bird coming in the house to announce death, well, that is actually what I have to say about the pigeon. Not just comic relief at all, and his writing at the end: I set it free, when he has smothered it, relates to the wife, WHAT a film...

Christmas Eve tonight, and my Acquacize class is again this morning, so I should go back to bed, I imagine. That doesn't mean I will. Interesting: what ever means what...
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