Thursday, June 11, 2009


Bowl by unknown African potter

Sitting here this morning, sleepily admiring this bowl I found in a thrift shop. I absolutely love it, for no explainable reason. I've never been to Africa, am not a pottery collector, and am not in love with zebras or elephants. But when I saw this sitting on a shelf in a dusty resale shop, I fell in love with it. I love to hold its heaviness, feel the smooth clay finish, imagine the man or woman's hands who made it, holding it just like me. Was she sitting outside a hut, under a vast African sky? Or, more likely, barely eking out a living in one of the crowded cities. Was he old, young, surrounded by laughing children?

I heard just a small piece of a program yesterday on National Public Radio, talking about a book--The Art Instinct--by Denis Dutton. I haven't yet read the book, but the premise is that all art and artists are connected by a common thread through the ages...from the cave painters at Lascaux to Van Gogh, Mozart, the Beatles, Picasso, and my grandson, happily absorbed in his painting of a lion. And me.

I love the idea and look forward to reading the book. In the meantime, there are poems to write, art to to take.
Life is good...


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