Sunday, October 7, 2018

Isaac Going Forth to Meditate

Isaac Going Forth to Meditate at Eventide

George Richmond, RA 1809-1896


Oil and tempera on panel

9 1/2 x 5 1/8 inches (24 x 13.5 cm)

Larger version
With a paper label, verso, with the inscriptions 'Isaac going out to meditate at Eventide Geo Richmond R TR 10 1908'

The paintings Richmond made in the late 1820s reflect the influence of Blake and the inspiration of literature. The title is from the book of Genesis, chapter XXIV verse 43 And Isaac went out to meditate in thefield at the eventide.' Like The Fatal Bellman, the composition is dominated by a powerful figure, in this case, walking away towards the sunset.

The Fine Art Society, London, has most generously given its permission to use information, images, and text from its catalogues in the Victorian Web. This generosity has led to the creation of hundreds and hundreds of the site's most valuable documents on painting, drawing, sculpture, furniture, textiles, ceramics, glass, metalwork, and the people who created them. The copyright on text and images from their catalogues remains, of course, with the Fine Art Society. [GPL]

A grammar link!

If you love all the intricacies and absurdities and complexities and beauties of our English language, you will love this blog:

Friday, September 21, 2018

I haven't given up on this blog ... just got locked out for a while!

Technology can be wonderful and it can be SO unforgivable and frustrating. It's a long story, but I haven't been able to access this blog for almost a year. I finally had to go through two old email accounts I never use, remembering ancient passwords, to locate verification codes and open the door again.

So here I am. Hope to post again more often.

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Cuban Oregano

Thanks to the gift of a dear friend, I now have a new plant for the garden. It's called by many names, Cuban oregano being one of them. This is where the professional botanists like to chime in and remind us of the critical importance of scientific names. In this case, this plant, which is actually neither Cuban nor a true oregano, bears the catchy handle of Plectranthus amboinicus.

As I said, it's not a true oregano but it is a member of the same family, Lamiaceae, a big group that includes mints and other aromatic and tasty herbs.

Plectranthus amboinicus -- oh, let me just call it Cuban oregano -- has a taste like oregano and thyme blended, and a fatal aversion to freezing weather. Will have to come inside for the winter.

I have a decent-sized yard if not a big one, and over the years, have added lavender, peppermint, spearmint, chives, winter savory, thyme and lemon balm. Most herbs are easy to grow, many are perennials, and don't require much pampering -- so if you have dirt of your own or just a sunny patio where you can put a few pots, you should be growing some. Much better than paying good money for some limp cut herb from the grocery when your recipe calls for it.

Sunday, July 2, 2017

2 Baruch, my first thoughts on a major pseudepigraphical document:

One precious manuscript, a Syriac text from the sixth or seventh century, preserves this apocryphal document – one text that flood or fire or neglect could easily have taken from us forever.

But it endured the vicissitudes of history, to be gathered up into the Bibliotheca Ambrosiana in Milan, in the 17th century or thereabouts, where it has been safeguarded ever since. We owe a huge debt of gratitude to Cardinal Federico Borromeo (1564-1631) for the ambitious idea to build this treasure-house of art and literature. His agents “scoured Western Europe and even Greece and Syria for books and manuscripts” for the collection, many of which might otherwise have been lost forever.

As with other ancient documents of this type, I try to picture the first century Jew, most likely of Palestine, who wrote this work. His was a world wracked with change and pain. After a century of strife, the Romans had just destroyed the second Jewish temple, tightening the vise on Jerusalem to almost unendurable constriction.

So I picture him, brow furrowed by a life of stress, bent over a table in some little room somewhere in the city or near it, carefully inking on papyrus or vellum the Hebrew characters that spell out this text, perhaps by late afternoon sunlight slanting in through a narrow window, or by the light of a clay lamp late at night.

No one would write such a book for a lark, on a whim, not in such a place or time. His words were important to him, this anonymous man of long ago. And he stands among those other men, some known, many unknown, who stood bravely and gathered from the wreckage of classical Judaism, the bricks by which modern, Rabbinical Judaism was built.

The text reveals his time by oblique references to the temple’s destruction, but also reveals his dependence on earlier writings and traditions – even, possibly, upon texts that were used around the same time to build the corpus of Christian literature.
The extant Syriac text was translated from Greek, which was most likely translated from a Hebrew original. That means that what I read in English, is three languages away from the first ink that committed it to writing. I cannot expect that the style of the original, its literary beauty, has survived the journey, and I must be content with what I have.

The Church Father Barnabas knew of this work and quoted 61:7 in 11:9 of his epistle, calling the writer “another prophet:”
In the quotation, “Baruch” spoke wistfully of the Jerusalem of old, in the days of Solomon and David.

“And the land which then received mercy, since its inhabitants did not sin, was praised above all countries.”

Listening to the shouts of Roman soldiers outside his window, or the angry debates between anti-Roman Zealots and those who sought accommodation and peace in their time, perhaps he could dream of that lost Golden Age of Israel, and eulogize it in this work.

And so preserved for us, like a fossil in rock, is this reminder of one who once lived, a human being trying to make sense of a world in chaos, bringing together all that he knew and believed and thrusting it forward like a battle shield, to ward off the terror of the unknown.

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Review of The Book of Margery Kempe

The Book of Margery KempeThe Book of Margery Kempe by Margery Kempe

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

What do I think of this book? I recognize its place in history -- the first extant autobiography by an English person. But how to judge it?

Is it simply the babblings of someone who suffered from mental illness -- who believed herself bound by God to do bizzare things that constantly put her at odds with her society? To do that puts me in the dangerous position of having to apply that label to others, from Abraham to Paul -- indeed, having to discount all religious experience as insanity.

Did she genuinely experience the visions of which she wrote? Whether she did or not,
her perseverance in the face of endless opposition, her courage, is inspiring. Her love of even her worst enemies, is humbling.

But without the constant, tiresome references to her crying spells, I think the book would have been half as long.

View all my reviews

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

One mom's great post