Perspective
—Dorn
“Find meaning. Distinguish melancholy from sadness. Go out for a walk. It doesn’t have to be a romantic walk in the park, spring at its most spectacular moment, flowers and smells and outstanding poetical imagery smoothly transferring you into another world. It doesn’t have to be a walk during which you’ll have multiple life epiphanies and discover meanings no other brain ever managed to encounter. Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don’t find meaning but “steal” some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.”
SIBLINGS
The ground is bracing.
My brother,
How can I bury you
Hand your winter coat
To the cold?
Words and photo © Jane Dorn
Timothy Leary and Baba Ram Dass as faculty at Harvard, early-60s.
On October 29th, two of our own Art & Design professors gave an informative and inspiring gallery talk about their photography work. For years, Jane A. Dorn and Jo Carol Mitchell-Rogers have been roaming the South together and photographing its unique sights and scenery. This exhibition juxtaposes their individual experiences at a single location.
Be sure to see their photographs in Thrift Library’s Vandiver Gallery before December 13th!
Anne Lamott, soul-stretching as ever, on the true gift of friendship and how to master the uncomfortable art of letting yourself be seen.
“Find the thing in you that is different, that’s as sharp as a diamond and jagged as a razor. Hone that, because that’s the thing with which you’ll cut the world. If you try to stay a safe and soft and average, then you’re going to get lost in the sea of all those other things that look just like you. Find the things about yourself that are weird and cultivate them because, eventually, those are the things the world is going to want to reward you for and that will bring you the most happiness. When you’re young, those are the things that cause you so much pain, but it’s that pain that makes you unique. Own your scars.”
This is important.
(via rebabutterpants)Yes it is.
“I love you. I love you,
but I’m turning to my verses
and my heart is closing
like a fist.”
It is not humiliating to be unhappy. Physical suffering is sometimes humiliating, but the suffering of being cannot be, it is life.
Albert Camus (November 7, 1913–4 January 1960) in Notebooks: 1951–1959
Song: “Both Sides Now” by Joni Mitchell (b. November 7, 1943)
Show hanging underway. What an amazing group of human beings. #artbombstudios #openstudios
“How privileged you are, to be still passionately
clinging to what you love;
the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you.”
Reading. Thinking.
A good day for mail
C’mon, Tuesday. You can do this.
—Dorn
Jim Morrison: Young Lion Session
"Back when Paris, Texas was merely a film I’d constructed from fragments of my imagination, I always believed that I knew what it was about, was sure I understood the poetic words hanging in its vacant space, and thought I felt the aching beauty of it all. I loved it in that perverse and wonderful way you can only love something unattainable, cherishing it like a worn-out photograph that lives forever in your back pocket, something that has seen the world even when you could not. But it wasn’t until recently that I felt I truly listened to what the film was trying to say, opening myself up to what it had to teach me about coping with the pain of love and the patience of longing.
Perhaps this is so, or perhaps it’s simply a testament to all the ways a film can live alongside you over the years, like a true companion, growing up with you and showing you more about yourself as you reflect back on it. Though with a film like Paris, Texas, it’s not only about the moments in which you’re watching it, but about the echoes it leaves behind. Sure, you can appreciate the flickering neon lights in the distance and the pastel skies cast against the browns and greens that rise in the landscape—the ode to still life Americana that once was and may never be again—but if you can’t feel all the yearning in its silences or recognize the crushing weight that comes with looking love in the eye and knowing you must let it go, then you haven’t allowed yourself to fully succumb to what lies at the very core of Wenders’ film.”
—Hillary Weston on Paris, Texas (1984)
(Bright Wall/Dark Room, September 2013)
LOVE THIS FILM.
YES
Hey Tuesday
—Dorn