bright was the day

 It's the feast of St. Agatha. "She was martyred in Catania, Sicily, most likely during the persecution of Decius in 251." from Magnificat, February 2024. 

From a hymn: Bright shall the day of Saint Agatha rise. And it was bright this morning! We around here are excited about this because we've had so many rainy and cloudy days in recent weeks. The day of the fabulous sunset was the first sunny one in ages. I think overcast days have their beauty, but when there are so many -  well, we are enjoying the sun for now.

praying, mending and reading

I am working on mending a favorite shirt of my brother's; he likes button-down collars and the button pulled away from where it was sewn to the shirt front, leaving a tear. I cut a small piece of fusible interfacing and ironed it onto the back, stabilizing the tear. 

But I feel it should have more support, not to mention it would be nice to cover the white patch on the inside. And if I sew something onto the back, the stitches will show on the front. Or will they? The button will then be attached, and the collar buttoned up. 

This is the front after interfacing it -

No matter what I do, it's not going to look perfect, but I think if I keep my stitches small, it won't show. And he'll be glad to extend the shirt's life.

I am still liking the book on Christina Rossetti. It tells of how the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood began. I guess they were frowned upon by some for seeming to disparage Raphael. I have to say I like their style of art. The medieval flavor, the detail - much of it appeals to me. I came across this Annunciation recently

Click on it to enlarge - the purple wings! What a scene! Of course, it wasn't really like that, but neither was it like Giotto. Art is an interpretation. 

Anyway, to get back to Christina Rossetti, now I'm in a chapter which is including many excerpts from her poetry, and I think I'll have to get a book of some of them. 

I've also been moving through Shakespeare's Cymbeline, which I never read; I'm still trying to finish the Literary Life's reading challenge, and maybe I won't make it, but it's not a race, just a way to enlarge one's reading horizons. And for some reason, earlier today I was remembering the final Brother Cadfael mystery that Ellis Peters wrote before she had the stroke. I don't know if she was planning any more, but this was the twentieth, and I think any other kind of story would have been an anti-climax. I was remembering how beautiful the ending section was, so I took it off the shelf and read it, getting choked up. (no, he doesn't die) I don't want to spoil anything, but he had to leave the monastery for an extended period, and he returns in the middle of the night and goes into the church to pray and wait for morning and the abbot.

He lay down on his face, close, close, his overlong hair brushing the shallow step up into the choir, his brow against the chill of the tiles, the absurd bristles of his unshaven tonsure prickly as thorns. His arms he spread wide, clasping the uneven edges of the patterned paving as drowning men hold fast to drifting weed. He prayed without coherent words, for all those caught between right and expedient, between duty and conscience, between the affections of earth and the abnegations of heaven: for Jovetta de Montors, for her son, murdered quite practically and coldly to clear the way for a coup, for Robert Bossu and all those labouring for peace through repeated waves of disillusion and despair, for the young who had no clear guidance where to go, and the old, who had tried and discarded everything; for Olivier and Yves and their like, who in their scornful and ruthless purity despised the manipulations of subtler souls; for Cadfael, once a brother of the Benedictine house of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, at Shrewsbury, who had done what he had to do, and now waited to pay for it.

I guess maybe that is a bit of a spoiler. When the book came out years ago, I took it home and then got sick with something; I was in bed, with no obligations, no one expected me to do anything, and I was able to immerse myself in the story. And when it came to this ending, it was so moving to me, I still feel that emotion every time the memory returns. 

It's a good prayer list. Especially for "all those labouring for peace through repeated waves of disillusion and despair" and for the young, who have "no clear guidance where to go". 

the Gardner Museum

 There is a fine art museum in Boston, the Isabella Stewart Gardner. I went with a friend. We'd tried going a few years back; got there, it was closed. It was a Tuesday. We hadn't thought to look it up first - museums aren't ordinarily closed on Tuesdays. The Museum of Fine Arts was open! Anyway.

My brother told me to look for the John Singer Sargent painting - you know the one, he said - of the lady with her arm stretched out. Sargent might be his favorite painter, and I'm sure I've seen many of his works, but I wasn't sure I'd seen this one. Anyway, it was right there when we entered the place.

"borrowed" from the internet

It's big! 

Anyway, I've long wanted to see this museum. In 1990, two fellows dressed as police officers got security to let them in. They tied him up and took thirteen (I think) works of art from the place in the space of 81 minutes. Nothing has been found. 

I had stumbled on a podcast in 2018 which delved into the theft. It was excellently done, in thirteen episodes. It's called Last Seen, and it's still going, I guess, on other subjects, but this was the first. 

I had an idea of the museum, probably from the photo linked above. I wanted to see the empty frames - how dramatic of them, to leave them empty like that! I didn't realize how chock full of stuff this place is, which isn't apparent in this photo. It was her home, and the architectural part was just as appealing to me as the artwork within. 

The arches and the bell were also near the entrance. They set the tone for my expectations. 

Imagine living amid such drama.

Anyway, we went first to the cafe and had lunch. Mine was a little quiche, with roasted cauliflower, onions and gruyere. A frisee salad with sliced red grapes and a bit of farro. All very nice! And a chocolate sort of pudding with berries on top for dessert. Quite satisfying.

There is stuff everywhere you turn, and lots of it is religious: tapestries, carvings, some *very* old. Things that should still be in churches. 

we noticed how shiny and clean this was, and were sure our excellent custodian at the library would care for it just as well

The thieves took some things by Degas, a Manet, a Chinese vase or urn, an eagle finial from the time of Napoleon, two Rembrandts and a Vermeer and a couple of other items. Yes, Rembrandt and Vermeer. I don't know about you, but they are definitely two of my favorites! 

This is supposed to be a Rembrandt portrait of a married couple, A Lady and Gentleman in Black.

from the internet

And this is the frame which contained his only seascape, Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee.

It would have been nice to see that one. Here it is:

It would be nice, wouldn't it? Where is it now, I wonder? They were sliced out of their frames!

And the Vermeer; there are so few of them. I took the photo so I'd be reflected in the glass. 

I like to see the Rembrandt self-portrait to the right in this photo. They did take one of his self-portraits, but a sketch. He did plenty of those. 

The Vermeer -

The Concert

The podcast presented a fascinating story, very well done, if you're interested. 

There were guards everywhere; I couldn't carry my jacket over my arm, it wasn't allowed. I was too warm, but had to wear it. Did I mention that there was no security system in 1990? Only a guard, but no electronics. Incredible. 

These signs were on everything, but almost nothing was labeled. Maybe a handful of items! We would have liked to know what we were looking at! Well, they did have the QR codes, and we did use that a couple of times. Finally, a guard told us that the lack of labelling was because she didn't want things to be labelled - it was a home. And nothing is ever to be moved, or rearranged. That's why the empty frames.

There is a long room with a dining table which can be rented for your event. And there's a wonderful garden, in an atrium, I guess. Full of foxglove and what looked like pink hydrangea. Isn't it early for those? 

I had to jump up the color on these, because my camera didn't capture the fabulousness of the garden.

We weren't allowed in. But oh, you couldn't look at the place without wishing you could get in! (my brother said when he went, they let people in)

Anyway, we took our time, were there about four hours, and loved all of it. I bought a few things in the gift shop, of course, including a book about Mrs. Gardner, which so far is very interesting.  If you're ever in Boston, by all means, stop and see this fabulous place.

a visit with Vincent

My co-worker and I took a trip to a museum to see a Van Gogh display, and to hear an author speak on his biography of Vincent.

Horton can be found guarding the place

It was very well attended; he was to talk an hour. The president of the museum spoke first - she gushed too much and went on too long; it cut into his speaking time. Then, she introduced a woman who introduced the author - it was all a bit much. 

They insisted that he save ten minutes at the end for questions, which means he ended up speaking only forty five minutes. We both would have stayed another hour or two gladly, had he been allowed to keep talking. That was too bad.

can't be original, 'cause it wouldn't be in English, would it?

About the book: it isn't new. It was published in 2011, and they were even on 60 Minutes back then - I saw the episode. The biggest excitement about this book is their theory that Vincent didn't shoot himself, as is generally believed. At least, they feel that the evidence doesn't support it. It was some kind of accident but he didn't "tell" on anyone. A few years ago I inter-library loaned the book. When it came, all nine hundred pages of it, it was just too much to get involved in, so I sent it back. 

his brother

Afterward we went upstairs to see the exhibit. It was well done, extremely imaginative; it will be great for kids with lots of crazy inter-active things. 

try your hand at drawing a sunflower

Why didn't I take more photos? I should have. Here I am, sitting at the Cafe Terrace at Night.

Isn't that cool? But this is even better - 

my friend actually sitting in the bedroom at Arles - she could have lain on that bed, if she'd liked. They did a great job with it, didn't they?

part of the studio

Anyway, this man was so so interesting that we decided we should make the effort to read the book, so I ended up buying it. It may take me a year to read, and that will be fine if so. 

When we passed through the museum to leave, we ran into him, so I grabbed his hand and told him we would have gladly stayed to hear more and were sorry his talk was too short. I said this not for his benefit, but for the museum person who was with him. Maybe I should email them, too. 

Afterward, we had a tasty lunch and when we got back to town, stopped at a local and very popular bakery in the hope that we could get a piece of a fancy cake they'd advertised for that day - and wouldn't you know, there was one fat slice left! We finished it off, and both agreed it had been a very good day.

afternoon in the city

Caravaggio came to town

at the museum in the city - but we couldn't take pictures.

a section where we could

Look at those wild colors (not Caravaggio's work)

Then a free jazz concert at the library up the street

where we strolled along a bit of parqueted sidewalk.

still life with white cat and wheelbarrow

Joining Fiona on Green Day, and sending our condolences to her on losing her own white kitty.

a museum by a river

Yesterday we took a little road trip with friends to an art museum which happens to be alongside a picturesque river. A big old home where a single lady decided to open up an inn.

old New England houses look nice in yellow, I think

It ended up being discovered by a group of artists, which gave her a steady stream of customers and also a "family" of sorts. My favorite part of the house was the long dining table on the porch - ah!  Some visitors were seated there, so I didn't take a picture.

Aside from the impressionist paintings inside, the entire place was very appealing. All sorts of varieties in a flower garden - they had poppies about a foot in diameter!

And we managed to get some pictures along the river before it rained. There were a few geese hanging around, quite unconcerned about the people nearby.

a photo of my friend taking a photo

Really a beautiful and relaxing day.

the O Antiphons: the seventh night

O Emmanuel:

"O Emmanuel, king and lawgiver, desire of the nations, Savior of all people, come and set us free, Lord our God."

(Nativity,  by Marc Chagall)

                                                                               

the O Antiphons: the sixth night

O Rex Gentium:

"O King of all the nations, the only joy of every human heart; O Keystone of the mighty arch of man, come and save the creature you fashioned from the dust."

                                                                                

the O Antiphons: the fifth night

O Oriens:

"O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice: come, shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death."

(Light of the World, by Holman Hunt)

                                                                            

the O Antiphons: the fourth night

O Clavis David:

"O Key of David, O royal power of Israel controlling at your will the gate of Heaven: Come, break down the prison walls of death for those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death; and lead your captive people into freedom."

(Crossing of the Red Sea, by Cosimo Roselli)

                                                                         

the O Antiphons: the third night

O Radix Jesse:

"O Flower of Jesse's stem, you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples; kings stand silent in your presence; the nations bow down in worship before you. Come, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid."

(Notre-Dame de la Grande, Poitiers)

                                                                               

the O Antiphons: the second night

O Adonai:

"O sacred Lord of ancient Israel, who showed yourself to Moses in the burning bush, who gave him the holy law on Sinai mountain: come, stretch out your mighty hand to set us free."

(Moses and the Burning Bush, by Bourdon Sebastien)

                                                                            

the O Antiphons: the first night

O Sapientia:

"O Wisdom, O holy Word of God, you govern all creation with your strong yet tender care. Come and show your people the way to salvation."

(Annunciation to the Herders, by Govert Flinck)