Sher’s
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(group member since Nov 23, 2020)
Sher’s
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from the Nonfiction Reading - Only the Best group.
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The wealthiest artist in the UK.
This article show images of the statue _Verity_ and also delves into a bit of interpretation and criticism. https://elephant.art/damien-hirst-ver...

I was interested to know who or what entity commissioned this work, and that wasn't clear to me in the article. When you look at the body of Hambling's work-- how could the commissioning group not expect something controversial. If the square and received a bronze sculpture of the real Wollenstonecraft in any depiction o her life as a real person. I imagine most people would have walked on by not looking and not asking any questions. That this piece is gaining so much criticism and attention -- makes one wonder was that intended?
I have read the critical response. It is interesting to me how different interpretations are possible. I am surprised I rather like this work and have my own view of it that veers from what we read in this article. But, I need to see it in its setting.
I also looked at the body of Hambling's work, and I find many of her pieces quite powerful. Sorry to be an outlier here-- just expressing my first response.
I do get your point Carol-- about _Verity_. how would I feel if it was placed overlooking the Pacific Ocean where I lived in Alaska... Does the work change the ocean or our experience of it. Perhaps this is a choice we have? 66 feet of this violent image... but can it be viewed symbolically? Now I need to go and see it... Thanks Carol for bringing these pieces to attention...

Carol:
Where In England? Can we see it?

Where is the statue and who made it? It sounds like her nudity is symbolic and in your face. I'd like to know more... When was it raised?



The Monkeys
Winked too much and were afraid of snakes. The zebras, supreme in
their abnormality; the elephants with their fog-colored skin
and strictly practical appendages
were there, the small cats; and the parakeet —
trivial and humdrum on examination, destroying
bark and portions of the food it could not eat.
I recall their magnificence, now not more magnificent
than it is dim. It is difficult to recall the ornament,
speech, and precise manner of what one might
call the minor acquaintances twenty
years back; but I shall not forget him — that Gilgamesh among
the hairy carnivora — that cat with the
wedge-shaped, slate-gray marks on its forelegs and the resolute tail,
astringently remarking, " They have imposed on us with their pale
half-fledged protestations, trembling about
in inarticulate frenzy, saying
it is not for us to understand art; finding it
all so difficult, examining the thing
as if it were inconceivably arcanic, as symmet-
rically frigid as if it had been carved out of chrysoprase
or marble — strict with tension, malignant
in its power over us and deeper
than the sea when it proffers flattery in exchange for hemp,
Rye, flax, horses, platinum, timber, and fur. "

I am back - better late than never. You wrote: "I think I tend to latch onto poets that I find challenging but easily understood.
I feel the same way. I also found your remarks about Mary Oliver interesting. At this point in my development as a reader, Oliver is one of my favorites because of her subjects--the nature world. I can see how easy could be boring.
Here is an example of a poem I recently came across and I got enough out of it that I looked up "gyre" and Spiritus Mundi and looked up Yeats and 1923 Ireland.
I did get more out of it after the research, but what hit me initially, my first impression wasn't really enhanced by the research.
William Butler Yeats "The Second Coming. " 1923
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?


There are many Reagan biographies, but I am not sure what to try. Thanks!





