Showing posts with label frost. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frost. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Sweet and Swift


The tile above was created especially for Kara. She wanted a redbird, but also requested a more muted palette than some of my other pieces. I tend to gravitate toward bright, bold color and pattern. This piece was created by hand painting a piece of black Wismach glass with Glassline paint. I love the wonderful way these paints handle - thinned with water they take on a lovely watercolor quality when fired.

This piece also reminded me of this poem by Robert Frost. It seems whenever I post a poem, it is by Frost. Something about his work resonates with me. I am always touched by the imagery he uses. I feel like I am there seeing and feeling what he saw and felt. After reading a short biography on him, I was also deeply touched by the hardships he endured during his life.

Looking For a Sunset Bird in Winterby Robert Frost
The breath of air had died of cold,
When shoeing home across the white, I thought I saw a bird alight.
In summer when I passed the place
I had to stop and lift my face; The west was getting out of gold,
A bird with an angelic gift Was singing in it sweet and swift. No bird was singing in it now. A single leaf was on a bough, And that was all there was to see In going twice around the tree. From my advantage on a hill I judged that such a crystal chill Was only adding frost to snow As gilt to gold that wouldn't show.  A brush had left a crooked stroke Of what was either cloud or smoke From north to south across the blue;A piercing little star was through.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

November Days

It is hard to believe November is upon us already!

It is a downhill run now to Thanksgiving and Christmas. I adore this time of year! I love the quickly changing season, the chilly air, the bustle of the holidays.

I also love this Robert Frost poem about November. Although, I'm sure it probably has some deep literary meaning, i like the imagery he uses to capture the feeling of November. I've posted it before, but it seems so appropriate today. Maybe I'll post every November first.

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise