I’m posting today about “Bipolar Bare,” a memoir by my friend Carl Davis–a man whom many of you know from his presence as an artist and architect in Los Angeles. As you’ll see, it is not an easy read, but one that I found insightful and rewarding. Because his story is so very personal and […]
I can vouch for the truth that there is no better way to celebrate a birthday marking the all too swift passage of the remaining years than a jaunt with beloved family to the Getty Villa. We went yesterday, Ellie and I, with our daughter Sarah and her boyfriend from the Netherlands and her rambunctious young 10-year-old, Luka—another constant reminder, if one were needed, of my own declining years.
I have been reading about the rise of feminism, particularly in the art world but also in the culture at large in the late 1960s and early 1970s. More about that when I’m finished reading. In the meantime, though, I’m reminded how much I regret the absence of a corresponding rise in masculinism.
I am always grateful for those kind enough to take the time to follow my meanderings online, whether here, on Facebook, or elsewhere. I ‘m especially fond of those who enjoy what they read—I am as susceptible to praise as any other human being and certainly it pleases me to know that I have written something that resonates with other people.
It’s Sunday today, the day when every week as a child I would go to church. I would sit on one side of my mother in the Rector’s pew, my sister Flora on the other, with all around us my father’s congregation; and my father himself up by the altar, leading the service, or standing […]
I realize I have been living in a state of grief. Grief for the loss of the lad that I once was, and for the green countryside of rural England where I grew up; grief for the insults to the body proffered by old age; grief for opportunities squandered along the way; grief for the […]
For reasons known only to my unconscious mind the line from that patriotic hymn popped up in my head this morning as I sat in meditation: “My country ‘tis of thee.” And then the question followed naturally from my conscious mind: Where is my country? Where do I belong? I have been living in America […]
I have been going through a box of family memorabilia — photographs, invoices, paid and unpaid, documents, certificates… and letters. Lots of letters. Some insignificant, many illegible, many whose relevance has been lost in the intervening years. And here and there I find letters that startle or shock, that move me for their sincerity, urgency, […]
After now two years of virtually nonstop exposure to Donald J. Trump, it is surely not injudicious to assert that the man has no concept of morality; or, to be fair, that the dual lodestar of his moral compass is money and the accumulation of power…
I understand the need. I really do. But is it not sad that the wheels of politics have to be greased so constantly with money. I had expected, foolishly, to get some reprieve after the election. Some hope! It seems to have gotten worse. And it’s true, the need is now…