Great start for the day AOW.. thanks.
Perfectly beautiful in every regard. It's both soothing and reassuring to a world-weary soul tormented by the boorushness, violent temper, and abject horror of contemporary cultural and political life.The paintings are lovely, indeed, but for me the exquisitely beautiful MUSIC –– one of three Ballades for piano on poems of Francois Villon by Claude Debussy –– outweighs the beauty of Inness's paintings.It's frankly a CRIME not to have given the name of the pianist –– a superb interpreter of Debussy's music. That aside, this is a most welcome treat for the Soul and the senses.
One of my favorites. Perhaps Schubert is more fitting music of his era as Debussy is from the later, impressionist era.
Please see my comment to Baysider just below. It was really meant for you.
What FA said. I was struck by the abundance of pastoral scenes largely absent from American life today. While those times had their troubles, being on nature's soil and away from the EMF smog of today's everywhere is soothing and refreshing.
Impressionism is all about revealing the essence that gives natural phenomena their beauty, identity, and significance, thus "Impressionism" at its best is fit to comment on subject matter from any age. The historicity of featured subjects is irrelevant to artistic expression –– not that i don't love Schubert ;-) –– but this particular piece of Debussy better illustrates the mood and meaning of Inness's bucolic landscapes than Schubert's deep probing of human emotion.
Sorry, Baysider. That comment was intended for Goose. My poo eyes are failing rapidly.
Ths was written a few years ago –– an inspiration from looking at Breughel's famous painting The Reaoers. I believe the sonnet fits very well with the Inness-Debussy posting presented here. "Dreamimg foolishly of better days" reveals the point of the exercise to those who have the wit to discern it. In our mad sh to make "progress" we too often fail to appreciate when we are well off. __________ STILLNESS __________No sound beyond the dropping of the leavesOr shushing in the treetops of the stirringIn the air and periodic whirringSoft of wings and bundling of sheaves ––Every now and then a bird may callLooking for or longing for his mate;Escaping still the hunter’s dinner plate.Scythes swish steadily as grain grown tallSubmits to delicate compelling force.Workers silently bent to their taskOver whom hot sunshine spills its raysReap swiftly knowing pain could come, of course.Later, in the afterglow they’ll baskDreaming foolishly of better days.~ FreeThinke
Truly Wonderful AOW. Hit the spot. Thanks to you and Mr Inness.
Don't forget Debussy, Kid. He's a BIG part of it too, believe me.
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