Posts Tagged ‘Art’

Halloween Art

October 31, 2012

The witch is astride this night for a ride,
Old Satan and she together;
Now out and now in,
Thru thick and thru thin,
No matter what be the weather.

— Robt. Herrick

The Herald – Junior Section (Los Angeles, California) Oct 31, 1909

Pioneers Frightening the Indians With Hallowe’en Tricks

— Hazel Cox

The Herald – Junior Section (Los Angeles, California) Oct 31, 1909

In the Houses of Rich and Poor Alike, Its Joyful Customs will be Observed

The Herald (Los Angeles, California) Oct 31, 1897


— Helen Knecht

Los Angeles Herald (Los Angeles, California) Oct 30, 1910

In Some Forgotten Life, Long Time Gone By

October 11, 2012

Image from The Pathology Guy – Enjoying “The Lady of Shalott”


(After Gerard de Nerval)

Andrew Lang* (1844-1912)

There is an air for which I would disown
Mozart’s, Rossini’s, Weber’s melodies —
A sweet sad air that languishes and sighs,
And keeps its secret charm for me alone.

Whene’er I hear that music vague and old,
Two hundred years are mist that rolls away;
The thirteenth Louis reigns, and I behold
A green land golden in the dying day.

An old red castle, strong with stony towers,
And windows gay with many-colored glass;
Wide plains, and rivers flowing among flowers,
That bathe the castle basement as they pass.

In antique weed, with dark eyes and gold hair,
A lady looks forth from her window high;
It may be that I knew and found her fair,
In some forgotten life, long time gone by.

Mason City Globe Gazette (Mason, City, Iowa) Nov 27, 1929

Newspaper listed author as Andrew LONG, rather than LANG, his correct surname.

Which Was Served?

August 9, 2012

Image from theguardianSecret lives: The Artist’s Studio at Compton Verney
Interesting exhibit charts, “how the artist’s studio has changed in function and depiction over the last three centuries.”


What gave this picture such divine
Perfection or each curve and ling?
Why does this song about a rose
Bring back forgotten long agoes?
Why is it that the spoken word
Stirs depths that seldom have been stirred?
A heart-throb in a ‘cello’s string —
What is the secret of the thing?

Why do we sing or play at all,
Or paint a mural on a wall?
Why do we speak upon the stage,
With words like these despoil a page?
What is the secret of success,
And something good, yet something less?
What mark denotes, so hard to see,
Genius and mediocrity?

What is it that all art divides,
The great, the commonplace, decides?
Is not the answer this, that they
Who failed were thinking of the pay?
That those who greatly play or sing
Or paint, are thinking of the thing?
I ask you this, whate’er your part,
Did art serve you, or you serve art?

Copyright, 1936, by Douglas Malloch

Sheboygan Press (Sheboygan, Wisconsin) Feb 4, 1936