Filming today in Haarlem, primarily in connection with Pieter Saenredam’s renditions of the interior of the Bavokerk, and in Amsterdam for its importance to art in the Dutch Golden Age of the 17th century. Here is Rembrandt’s house in Amsterdam, in which he lived and worked, along with his apprentices, from the 1630s until the […]
Artistic Genius — Haarlem and Amsterdam Read More »
We are currently working on a new documentary with the working title Artistic Genius: When It Flourishes. The question I take up is why art flourishes so awesomely in some places and times — classical Athens, Renaissance Florence, the Dutch Golden Age, nineteenth-century Paris — but is stagnant in others. Some of our production team
Artistic Genius documentary — Europe locations Read More »
Today I walked past a well-groomed old man driving an awesome Jaguar convertible. Jaguars are my favorite sports car, and I felt a twinge of envy. Later at a fast food restaurant, an energetic teenager before me in line was counting out his coins, unsure if he had enough to pay for a cold drink.
A thought about real wealth Read More »
At the author’s request, I’ve removed this poem, which was originally published in the 1990s.
Joanne Lowery, “Brush” Read More »
In the Renaissance, there was a lively debate among artists and critics over which art form was the best. Cases were made for and against painting, sculpture, poetry, and music. To my mind, the debate is philosophically silly, but it is a fun and instructive exercise to compare the strengths and limitations of each art
The best art form — architecture version Read More »
Towers near LUC‘s downtown Water Tower campus. (Click images to enlarge.) And the view from my office window.
Our Love is Like a Bowling Ball Our love is like a bowling ball Like a brand new Brunswick Red Zone, It rolls and rolls down the alley of desire And rolls and rolls and rolls. I will keep you out of the gutters, my love And put my fingers in your holes Every kiss
The worst love poem ever? Read More »
Come to the edge he said. They said: we are afraid. Come to the edge he said. They came. He pushed them … and they flew. (Christopher Logue. Sometimes ascribed to Guillaume Apollinaire.)