Mixed Feelings

                                    Jan Frederick Portielje

SIMPLY SNICKERS

MIXED FEELINGS

Victoriana at its best, in mood and dress and pose.

But why, I ask myself, are they in dark and mournful clothes?

If there's been a death, the faces simply don't reflect it,

And Death was such in those days everybody would respect it.

Yet here there's a delightful child with a smile upon her face,

And Mother looks serene and calm, exuding charm and grace!

The Mother's hand is graceful, upraised in a guiding way

Poised to point-out a tricky word, gently, as though in play.

It's a scene of domesticity, sweet and innocent.

Yet full of gloom and shadows and something malevolent.

The cloak that's hanging to the right and draping on the couch,

Appears to threaten as it looms with an almost dominant crouch.

How Victorians loved pictures that told a story too!
One feels compelled to study them to pick-up any clue.
Contrast this with the scene below, so natural, so light,
Painted by the same artist, but so relaxed and bright!

*

*

The Good Old Days

                            Meunier

SIMPLY SNICKERS
http://memeexpress.blogspot.com

 

THE GOOD OLD DAYS.

The news these days is oh so dire!
Will it be pestilence or fire,
Earthquake, flood or global warming,
Equine flu or locusts swarming,
Dreadful drought and soil erosion,
Or else a sudden big explosion?
Oh what dreadful times are these!
Enough to bring us to our knees!
*
But gaze awhile at this painted scene!
Where are the flowers, where the green?
Our ancestors had left the land,
Thinking industry would be grand.
Instead their lungs were full of dust;
They worked long hours to earn a crust;
They lived in hovels and died young.
And for petty crimes they might be hung.
*
Can you, honestly, say that you
Would give up living the way you do,
In order to live in simpler ways,
Sampling all those Good Old Days?
Of course in the pipe-line there may be
Some untold human atrocity,
But we should appreciate today
Not misery our lives away!
*

Another aspect of The Good old Days here:
http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/07/pile.html

Crows Remembered

                                          Daubigny

SIMPLY SNICKERS
http://simplysnickers.blogspot.com/2010/02/poetry-prompt-through-sunday-february_21.html

CROWS REMEMBERED

When I was young I had a book,

In which I often used to look.

The pictures, in an olden style,

Would make me cry and make me smile.

I lost the book in War's alarms,

But still I pondered on its charms.

The story was forgotten too,

As old books were replaced by new.

I only knew that there were crows,

Lined up in trees in long dark rows.

And I recall the plaintive cry,

As crows sent mourning  notes on high.

The words that always touched me so?

'There is no joy unmixed with woe.'

*

Today, the picture up above,

Set me nostalgically thinking of

The book, the pictures and the loss.

What a lovely thing to come across!

For I Googled and at last I saw

The very book I was searching for!

I photographed it from the screen!

It was exactly what I had seen

As a little girl of seven or eight

(I think we'll just ignore the date!).

So I'm reproducing here, below,

The pages that entranced me so!

The story's sad, but as we know,

'There is no joy unmixed with woe'.

*

Here are a few of the pages from the book.

The Title Page

The crows build their nests.

The chicks hatch out; Mother has a warning.

The farmers fear an infestation of crows.

A Scarecrow is no help at all!

The farmers arm themselves with guns.

The baby birds are slaughtered!

The farmer and his family enjoy Crow Pie!

The parent crows mourn their dead chicks.
*
Children's literature has changed quite a bit since the 1870s when this book was created, hasn't it!
Incidentally the book was already seventy years old when I was reading it.
*

 Another childhood memory here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/255-chintz.html

Men In Suits

The Council of the Royal Academy

Selecting Pictures for the Exhibition

By Sir Francis Grant

19^th century

SIMPLY SNICKERS

http://memeexpress.blogspot.com/2010/01/sunday-invitation-for-january-24th.html

MEN IN SUITS.

A mouthful of a title.

But simply a picture

Of men

Choosing pictures!

*

Not a woman in sight!

*

It seemed normal

At the time.

*

After all,

What would a woman know about

Art?

*

What would a woman know about

The important things in life?

*

In any case,

She would be too busy.

*

A child in the womb,

A child in her arms,

A child at her skirts,

Two or three playing on the floor.

*

Of course,

There were always Nannies.

*

But they had to be supervised,

Along with

The Cook,

The Parlour-maid,

And the little 'Tweeny'.

*

"That is quite enough responsibility

For a Little Woman.

*

But Art?

Art!

Surely you jest!

*

Only we are able to discern the difference

Between

Good Art

And Bad!

*

Because we wear suits."

*

More feminist ranting here:
http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/279-humming-birds.html

Ahead of her Time

                                  Pierre Edouard Frere

SIMPLY SNICKERS

http://memeexpress.blogspot.com/2010/01/sunday-invitation-for-january-17th.html

AHEAD OF HER TIME!

'I had a dream last night' she said;

'There was something called TV,

And millions and millions of people

Were watching little me!

I was showing them how to make a soup

From cabbage leaves and such.

And people copied my recipe

And liked it very much.

I even published books about

My ...... something called....... cuisine!

And I was paid for advertisements;

Whatever that might mean!

I became a millionaire!

Yes! Just like Royalty!

Just because I was good at cooking soup

Everyone worshiped me!

My picture, moving, was seen by all

On a sort of mirror thing

And all over the big wide world

I was treated like a King!

What do you think of that!' she cried!

*

Her companions said, subdued,

'Don't waste time on fairy-tales!

Hurry up with the food!'

*

A different view of cooking here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/09/too-hot-to-handle.html

See tomorrow's blog for something sumptuous.

Centaurama

                                   Eugene Fromentin

SIMPLY SNICKERS

http://simplysnickers.blogspot.com

CENTAURAMA!

I can see myself in the firelight, the Old Crone begged for a tale,

Hunting for a brand new plot that simply cannot fail.

The firelight flickers on the faces of the little girls and boys;

They sit and listen to me with scarcely a breath or noise.

I've sat like this many evenings for that's what Old Crones do,

But I'm running out of material. I'm looking for something new.

I'm the only entertainment  2000 years BC;

I suddenly get inspiration! An idea comes to me!

I'll invent a curious creature , half  animal, half man,

Something no-one else has thought of ever since time began!

I consider a half-fish firstly but that idea doesn't gel

Half-fish.

So I then consider a half-snake but what tale could I tell?

Half-snake

I consider the computations; you see some of them below,

Possibility

But suddenly I feel inspired and I shout out 'I know!

A horse is strong and willing, whoever holds the reins,

And human-beings, as we all know, have huge remarkable brains!

Join the two and we will have a wise and powerful creature

Combining the best of everything, with every perfect feature!'

And so the children sit and gape at the exploits I invent,

And that is how our story-telling evenings then are spent.

But when the children have gone to bed, just for a good diversion

I tell the tales a second time, but I make-up an adult version!

X-rated!

I hear my stories are still told, down through the endless ages,

Centaurs feature in cinema and on the written pages.

Disney

Harry Potter

Narnia

I am the unknown creator of the Centaur myths of old.

Without my flickering firelight they'd none of them be told.

*

A linked topic here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/06/assimilation.html

Deft!

SIMPLY SNICKERS
http://simplysnickers.blogspot.com/2009/06/poetry-prompt-through-sunday-june-21.html
suggested this beautiful drawing.


DEFT!

I have no problem with these hands; 

They're drawn with the deftest touch.

But the manner of the artistry

Worries me very much!

Did the artist have a model?

I think he did without;

The nearness and the intimacy

Put someone else in doubt.

No, the hands belong to Escher,

I'm absolutely sure.

The proximity is definite.

See each wrinkle, vein and pore!

So, if these hands are Escher's

We then need to decide

Where was the artist's leading hand?

 On the left or the other side?

The drawing of the right hand

Is clear and firm and bold, 

But that's not the hand holding the pencil!

The left is the one to hold.

The left hand looks quite awkward!

The pencil-grip is strange!

He wanted to draw with his left hand

But he had to make a change.

So, although the right hand looks so firm,

And the left almost distorted,

I think Escher was a South Paw!

There! I'm glad I've got that sorted!

Something very lovely happened to hands here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/01/279a-humming-birds.html