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Ludovic Bassarab (1868–1933) was a Romanian artist who studied in Germany and France. He returned to Romania and primarily painted scenes of rural life in that country. His brush work is often heavy, and he frequently employs a simple pallet of colors in his works. I like his focus on everyday scenes and common people. You really get a feeling for a specific time and place from his paintings.
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| Ludovic Bassarab |
Above is a snippet from the movie High School Confidential showing a beatnik babe reciting some beatnik poetry accompanied by a jazz band.
Every generation, when they're first entering adulthood have little money and face entry-level jobs. From their youth ghettos the more artistic of them cook-up their own style. Beatniks were from the 1950s, followed by hippies in the 1960/70s. Gen X, busy as they always are whining about every other generational cohort were their usual nondescript selves. The Millennials gave us the ever-entertaining hipsters, and I guess the latest group is giving us TikTok nonsense. It's just part of youth and is all good.
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David de Coninck was a 17th century Flemish artist. He specialized in painting animals. He started his career in Antwerp and moved first to Paris, then later to Rome before returning to Antwerp via Vienna. Unlike the later Romanticists, and for that matter our day, his animals were not cute and idyllic, instead his view of nature was red in fang and claw.
The video gives information on how food is prepared, stored and served on a U.S. flagged merchant cargo ship.
Armistice by Sophie Jewett
The water sings along our keel,
The wind falls to a whispering breath;
I look into your eyes and feel
No fear of life or death;
So near is love, so far away
The losing strife of yesterday.We watch the swallow skim and dip;
Some magic bids the world be still;
Life stands with finger upon lip;
Love hath his gentle will;
Though hearts have bled, and tears have burned,
The river floweth unconcerned.We pray the fickle flag of truce
Still float deceitfully and fair;
Our eyes must love its sweet abuse;
This hour we will not care,
Though just beyond to-morrow's gate,
Arrayed and strong, the battle wait.
