We all know that art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.
-Pablo Picasso*
*From the epigraph of The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt by Patricia MacLachlan.
We all know that art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.
-Pablo Picasso*
*From the epigraph of The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt by Patricia MacLachlan.
You can see the Hudson River from a tower. In the 1840s, a hill was shaved to capture the view. (via)
I cannot recommend enough this 2007 Vanity Fair article regarding the genesis of Rufus Wainwright — stay with me.
Not only is it packed with details about Rufus’s drug binges (“He sat on the toilet for four hours before crouching in the corner, wearing a red Miu Miu peacoat”), it paints his dad, the folk singer Loudon, as a illustrious candidate for a place on the list of the Worst Semi-Notable People Ever.
Here’s Loudon, talking about art:
Now we’ve stumbled onto the big, important question: Is it necessary to feel like shit in order to be creative? I’d say the answer is yes—unless you’re J. S. Bach.
And talking about parenting while doing art:
‘You know, Pounie,’”—Pounie is Martha [Wainwright's] family nickname—”‘I think I had to do it this way. I think I had to let you guys go in order to be Loudon Wainwright, and I’m sorry, but I think I had to do it that way.’”
And his feelings on love:
When Loudon wrote his first song about [his ex-wife] Kate, it was not some sappy declaration of love everlasting, but something murkier, perhaps tinged with envy, called “Saw Your Name in the Paper.”
In conclusion, make your own conclusion! What do I know about parenting? See you in the comments section.
**Addendum, 8/11** All above said, Attempted Mustache is one of the most brilliant album titles in the history of album titles.
Late on this, but isn’t W.S. Merwin the best? For one, he wears shirts with wooden buttons. For another, poems are so great when there are no people in them, which he gets. People are the worst. For poems. Goodnight.
[Mr. Parker] preferred staying in and watching baseball games with his German shorthaired pointer, Pearl. Mr. Parker had three German shorthairs named Pearl; when one Pearl died, he replaced it with another. (via)
I recently read two books. One was War by Sebastian Junger, the other The Diana Chronicles by Tina Brown. I am pleased to announce that both were supreme works of art and non-fiction, each in their own unique way. I will now review each in three sentences.
-War: This book is probably the best book on Afghan that I’ve read (and I’ve read more than 1/3 of them). In terms of Afraq works, though, it is incredibly moving and resolute; it exists in a solid, informative place between The Forever War (dreamy (nightmarey?), yet perhaps too impressionistic) and I Lost My Love In Baghdad (amazing details but somewhat disturbingly of an overshare. See: McChrystalgate.) Also, better than its movie, though that is good as well.
-Diana: A triumph dressed in royal purple. Truly something to admire in all respects: reportage, scope, elegance, dish. As my confidante H says: “Isn’t it all juice? For the most covered woman in the world, it’s all new! 10 yrs later — it’s practically impossible.” And yet.