Another American Adventure: art in our apartment

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

art in our apartment

Our apartment in Cranberry TWP is rather sparse. The idea is that everything that we have here must fit into our 2 cars, and we can pack up and be outta here in 2 hours. So we're very selective about what we will have - (though clutter seems to happen, regardless). Besides, I get to indulge my tendencies toward minimalism.

We treasure the 2 Xmas cards that our friend, Barbara (from Montreal) has sent both years. These ink calligraphies are exquisite, similar to what Merton did in his later years. I love looking at them, and they make the apartment feel so much more interesting and comfortable!

This is the 2010 card:

And this is the 2011 one, a collage of different paper shapes, one layered on the other:

The little flower is the boutonniere that John wore at Eric and Dawn's wedding.

And this is Jubilee this morning with an icicle beard and frozen paws:

1 comment:

BarbaraJanuary 5, 2012 at 12:17 PM
:D
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"In those first days, people said, a squirrel could run the long length of Pennsylvania without ever touching the ground. In those first days, the woods were white oak and chestnut, hickory, maple, sycamore, walnut, wild ash, wild plum, and white pine. The pine grew on the ridgetops where the mountains' lumpy spines stuck up and their skin was thinnest.

"The wilderness was uncanny, unknown. Benjamin Franklin had already invented his stove in Philadelphia by 1753, and Thomas Jefferson was a schoolboy in Virginia; French soldiers had been living in forts along Lake Erie for two generations. But west of the Alleghenies in western Pennsylvania, there was not even a settlement, not even a cabin. No Indians lived there, or even near there.

"Wild grapevines tangled the treetops and shut out the sun. Few songbirds lived in the deep woods. Bright Carolina parakeets - red, green, and yellow - nested in the dark forest. There were ravens then, too. Woodpeckers rattled the big trees' trunks, ruffed grouse whirred their tail feathers in the fall, and every long once in a while a nervous gang of empty-headed turkeys came hustling and kicking through the leaves - but no one heard any of this, no one at all."

Annie Dillard, An American Childhood.