www.ruthrosengarten.com
Drawing and photography are central to my practice. Both make pressing - if sometimes fictitious - claims to the capture of lost moments.
Showing posts with label seasons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label seasons. Show all posts
29/03/2011
26/03/2011
15/03/2011
14/03/2011
11/03/2011
Fear of spring
To commemorate the first birthday of this blog... I might have chosen Emily Dickinson's poem 'A Light Exists in Spring' which speaks specifically of the light in early March, but instead
I dreaded that first Robin, so,
But He is mastered, now,
I'm accustomed to Him grown,
He hurts a little, though—
I thought If I could only live
Till that first Shout got by—
Not all Pianos in the Woods
Had power to mangle me—
I dared not meet the Daffodils—
For fear their Yellow Gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own—
I wished the Grass would hurry—
So—when 'twas time to see—
He'd be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch—to look at me—
I could not bear the Bees should come,
I wished they'd stay away
In those dim countries where they go,
What word had they, for me?
They're here, though; not a creature failed—
No Blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me—
The Queen of Calvary—
Each one salutes me, as he goes,
And I, my childish Plumes,
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment
Of their unthinking Drums—
But He is mastered, now,
I'm accustomed to Him grown,
He hurts a little, though—
I thought If I could only live
Till that first Shout got by—
Not all Pianos in the Woods
Had power to mangle me—
I dared not meet the Daffodils—
For fear their Yellow Gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own—
I wished the Grass would hurry—
So—when 'twas time to see—
He'd be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch—to look at me—
I could not bear the Bees should come,
I wished they'd stay away
In those dim countries where they go,
What word had they, for me?
They're here, though; not a creature failed—
No Blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me—
The Queen of Calvary—
Each one salutes me, as he goes,
And I, my childish Plumes,
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment
Of their unthinking Drums—
Emily Dickinson
08/03/2011
03/02/2011
30/01/2011
Same view, different times
Well, same-ish view, Kommetjie beach from a particular bench on the boardwalk for the last three, and actually on the beach in the first spread. I've always loved the almost-repetition of the almost-the-same. It's the underlying minimalism of my not very minimalist work...
Brush markers and watercolour in Seawhite of Brighton sketchbook.
Brush markers and watercolour in Windsor and Newton spiral-bound sketchbook.
28/01/2011
The walk that wasn't: Boxing Day in the heat (2).
Brush markers and watercolour in Windsor and Newton spiral bound sketchpad.
The walk that wasn't: Boxing Day in the heat.
Lion's Head from Table Mountain
Pencil, brush markers and watercolour in Seawhite of Brighton sketchbook.
11/01/2011
09/01/2011
05/01/2011
Colours
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02/01/2011
30/12/2010
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