Cotswolds Vespa

Tags

Cotswolds, moped, style, Vespa

Photo by Candia

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Carnival

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carnival, charcoal, masks, pastel pencils, Venice, watercolour

Three New Works

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acylics, angel of light, charcoal, Cocteau, gold leaf, troubadour

 

Angel of Light; Troubadour; Lovers  all after Cocteau

Taking a Punt

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acrylic, Oxford, pastels, punt

 

Acrylic and Pastel copyright: candiacomesclean.wordpress.com

Magical Hawthorn

Tags

hawthorn, Proust, Remembrance of Things Past

 

Photo copyright: candiacomesclean.wordpress.com

 

Reminds me of Proust’s emotional obsession with hawthorn!

We’ll Gather Lilacs in the Spring Again

Tags

Novello, W War II, We'll Gather Lilacs, Webster Booth and Anne Ziegler

Phaeton

Tags

Jane Austen, phaeton, transportation

If, dear Jane Austen reader (s) you have ever wondered what a phaeton

looked like, eh voila!

My Glamorous Collage

Tags

collage, glamour

Azay-le-Rideau, Loire

Tags

Azay-le-Rideau, cliche, Loire chateaux, pastel

Drawn about 33 years ago after a Loire trip to the chateaux.

Maybe it lacks a nice wee swan in the foreground to complete

the cliche!

A Minimum of Kindness

Tags

Adam and Eve, Boldwood and Bathsheba, Burden stitch, cloths of Heaven, crewel, Die Walkure, George Bernard Shaw, Kelmscott, May Morris, Pre-Raphaelite, Primrose Hill, Sergius and Raina, Sparling, Superman, The Golden Stair, Tree of Life, Valentine card

A Minimum of Kindness

 

(May Morris, 1872.  Wikipedia.  Rossetti Archive; Bridgeman Images)

 

George Bernard Shaw:

 

She felt we had a mystic betrothal.

Her eyes betrayed some kind of assent.

Well, like her card, I found her quite handsome.

She asked for a minimum of kindness.

 

She’d shown maidens worshipping at my shrine,

but I was with a mature woman then.

Did she want me to cast cloths of heaven,

such as she embroidered, under her feet?

 

I tried to tread softly on all her dreams.

I was a bachelor then and too poor

to act as Sergius to her Raina.

(I hadn’t written my wretched play yet!)

 

Only a Superman could support her.

One minute she was roof-riding Kelmscott;

then absorbed as a domestic goddess,

designing tangles of honeysuckle,

 

which I now realise is dependent

and not parasitic, as I once feared.

Hmm, should women send men Valentine cards?

I think she had read too many novels.

 

I was no Boldwood to her Bathsheba.

She married Sparling in a fit of pique!

At least we remained friends.  I went to see

her when he was away. We walked over

 

Primrose Hill; listened to Die Walküre.

I was marginally more excited

than staying at home to watch my paint dry.

Now she stands alone on The Golden Stair.

 

Later she wrote and made sure that I knew

that she was a remarkable woman.

Was this to stick a crewel into me,

pricking the Burden stitch into my heart?

 

How many times did May sew that Tree of Life?

I would not play Adam to her Eve:

it was a matter of independence,

but this Tree finally caused my downfall.