You’ll not have forgotten Hans, I trust. Hans Castorp. Whenever he can be pried free of taking the cure on his balcony, and those fevered dreams of Mme Chauchat, he hikes down to the village. Down in the valley below the sanatorium. There is only one path between. Hans and his cousin Joachim invariably meet fellow guests along the way, the characters in life’s play. Gossip fills the air. There are incessant updates on the state of this or that person’s health, on the treatment regime, on thermometers and other measuring devices, on the passage —and, as we explored last time, the very concept— of time. Herr Settembrini lurks around every corner, perched on a bench, waiting to joust with all comers. One is either going down or coming up, leaving or returning. Precisely because it’s not really much of an excursion —it’s not
Thank you Chloe. You have a good ear! I'm honoured that you bother to read and look and listen (I'm kinda doing my thing, under the radar substackwise!). And thanks for asking: I do show my scribbles and dabblings to a few of the "subjects," if the time and vibe seems right. Oh what a wide spectrum of reactions I can report.... But most often amusement, and sometimes a bit of joy.
You're a joy to read and look and listen to. I can imagine the mix of reactions, I'm glad there's some joy in there. It's a beautiful thing. How are Dirk and Bente?
Thank you.... The birds are well. I am currently much taken by a curious Jackdaw, named Jesper (if you must know), in Groningen. Photos surely to follow..... Take good care!
"The anticipation is part of it, as if before a late-night assignation with a lover." Beautiful line. Once again you have taken me on a multi-sensory journey, Kenneth Mills. Total immersion. I would dearly love to have a book of your collected work. Again, your black and white photos-- each one has a story I could write ( and may write.) And I detect a new pallet of color on these paintings, not your usual clear, saturated greens, fuchsias, and oranges.
Exactly. You let yourself stumble about, as you call it. So you are able to see what otherwise you would not? No? We will never see everything that is there. How could we? We could have a long conversation about subjectivity, reality, perception now ... very postmodernist. The beauty is that we can see and share what we have seen, if we allow ourselves to do so. So, thank you, Ken, for seeing and sharing.
The bells, the bells! What a gorgeous listen, and look...do your subjects ever get to see your creations?
Thank you Chloe. You have a good ear! I'm honoured that you bother to read and look and listen (I'm kinda doing my thing, under the radar substackwise!). And thanks for asking: I do show my scribbles and dabblings to a few of the "subjects," if the time and vibe seems right. Oh what a wide spectrum of reactions I can report.... But most often amusement, and sometimes a bit of joy.
You're a joy to read and look and listen to. I can imagine the mix of reactions, I'm glad there's some joy in there. It's a beautiful thing. How are Dirk and Bente?
Thank you.... The birds are well. I am currently much taken by a curious Jackdaw, named Jesper (if you must know), in Groningen. Photos surely to follow..... Take good care!
Jesper the Jackdaw. I’m a sucker for Jackdaws. All the corvids… excited for pics ❤️
Saul Leiter: "I see this world simply. It is a source of endless delight."
Carry on, Kenneth.
"The anticipation is part of it, as if before a late-night assignation with a lover." Beautiful line. Once again you have taken me on a multi-sensory journey, Kenneth Mills. Total immersion. I would dearly love to have a book of your collected work. Again, your black and white photos-- each one has a story I could write ( and may write.) And I detect a new pallet of color on these paintings, not your usual clear, saturated greens, fuchsias, and oranges.
Grazie! So kind of you....
I envy you. Your time - not measured, but left to itself - and your eye.
Not to be envied. I stumble about most of the time, surely seeing little of what's there! But I'm honoured that you read this, Harald, take care.
Exactly. You let yourself stumble about, as you call it. So you are able to see what otherwise you would not? No? We will never see everything that is there. How could we? We could have a long conversation about subjectivity, reality, perception now ... very postmodernist. The beauty is that we can see and share what we have seen, if we allow ourselves to do so. So, thank you, Ken, for seeing and sharing.