5 Things of Note : 3–26–2017

Things I’ve found interesting this past week.

Rebecca Solnit : from Elle.com

The Philosopher Queen: Rebecca Solnit

Elle.com did a profile on one of my favorite writers, Rebecca Solnit. I’d highly recommend her book The Faraway Nearby. http://www.elle.com/culture/books/a42862/the-philosopher-queen-rebecca-solnit/

Alan Hunter : from his series Green River Land

Jon Feinsten Curates Washington State Photographers on Lenscratch

Jon Feinstein, who runs Humble Arts Foundation, shared the work of 7 photographers based in Washington State on Lenscratch.com. Jon did a good job getting a wide range of styles in this series. 
http://lenscratch.com/category/features/states-project/oregon/

Jack White : from newyorker.com

Jack White’s Infinite Imagination

The New Yorker did a profile on Jack White. I don’t listen to his music, but I am often fascinated with how he approaches making a life and music.
http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/03/13/jack-whites-infinite-imagination

Laura Pugno : from her series Travel Notebook

Laura Pugno’s Travel Notebook

I keep going back to this series by Laura Pugno on Landscape Stories. 
http://www.landscapestories.net/issue-25/ls_25-066-laura-pugno?lang=en

Emil Handke : from the series From Silence

Yi-Young Lee’s The Hammock

Thanks to my friend Dave Harrity, I was introduced to this poem by Yi-Young Lee. It is lovely. After reading it, I knew I needed to order a couple of Lee’s books.

The Hammock

When I lay my head in my mother’s lap
I think how day hides the star,
the way I lay hidden once, waiting
inside my mother’s singing to herself. And I remember
how she carried me on her back
between home and the kindergarten,
once each morning and once each afternoon.

I don’t know what my mother’s thinking.

When my son lays his head in my lap, I wonder:
Do his father’s kisses keep his father’s worries
from becoming his? I think Dear God, and remember
there are stars we haven’t heard from yet:
They have so far to arrive. Amen,
I think, and I feel almost comforted.

I’ve no idea what my child is thinking.

Between two unknowns, I live my life.
Between my mother’s hopes, older than I am
by coming before me, and my child’s wishes, older than I am
by outliving me. And what’s it like?
Is it a door, and good-bye on either side?
A window, and eternity on either side?
Yes, and a little singing between two great rests.

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