"ECOLE DE BARBIZON ." Web. 25 Mar 2011. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=foAKxi0ryd4.
A truly beautiful video! Showing the locations of my work shop and others of Barbizon .
Friday, March 25, 2011
Barbizon
"Barbizon ." Web. 25 Mar 2011. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OMT0NPTORE.
Great video , amazing soundtrack! It also includes many fine example of my own work and that of my fellow Barbizon arts ! But as for the information , well its all Greek to me , I can read Vrigil but not Greek !
Great video , amazing soundtrack! It also includes many fine example of my own work and that of my fellow Barbizon arts ! But as for the information , well its all Greek to me , I can read Vrigil but not Greek !
Going to Work
This great work of mine can be seen at the Cincinnati Museum of Art in Cincinnati Ohio USA. Please visit that great gallery !
"Going to Work ." Web. 25 Mar 2011.
Man With Hoe
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back, the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
To have dominion over sea and land;
To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
To feel the passion of Eternity?
Is this the dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
Down all the caverns of Hell to their last gulf
There is no shape more terrible than this--
More tongued with cries against the world's blind greed--
More filled with signs and portents for the soul--
More packed with danger to the universe.
What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of the Pleiades?
What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop;
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
Cries protest to the Powers that made the world,
A protest that is also prophecy.
O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
Is this the handiwork you give to God,
This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
How will you ever straighten up this shape;
Touch it again with immortality;
Give back the upward looking and the light;
Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings--
With those who shaped him to the thing he is--
When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world,
After the silence of the centuries?
I cant belive that a American school teacher wrote this , and that he was inspried by my painting !
Anson Markham , Charles Edward. "The Man with a Hoe by Edwin Markham, and L'homme à la houe by Jean-François Millet." N.p., 1899. Web. 25 Mar 2011.
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back, the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
To have dominion over sea and land;
To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
To feel the passion of Eternity?
Is this the dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
Down all the caverns of Hell to their last gulf
There is no shape more terrible than this--
More tongued with cries against the world's blind greed--
More filled with signs and portents for the soul--
More packed with danger to the universe.
What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of the Pleiades?
What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop;
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
Cries protest to the Powers that made the world,
A protest that is also prophecy.
O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
Is this the handiwork you give to God,
This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
How will you ever straighten up this shape;
Touch it again with immortality;
Give back the upward looking and the light;
Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings--
With those who shaped him to the thing he is--
When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world,
After the silence of the centuries?
I cant belive that a American school teacher wrote this , and that he was inspried by my painting !
Anson Markham , Charles Edward. "The Man with a Hoe by Edwin Markham, and L'homme à la houe by Jean-François Millet." N.p., 1899. Web. 25 Mar 2011.
JEAN-FRANÇOIS MILLET
JEAN-FRANÇOIS MILLET
NOT far from Paris, in fair Fontainebleau,
A lovely, memory-haunted hamlet lies,
Whose tender spell makes captive, and defies
Forgetfulness. The peasants come and go,—
Their backs too used to stoop,—and patient sow
The harvest which their narrow need supplies;
Even as when, Earth's pathos in his eyes,
Millet dwelt here, companion of their woe.
Loved Barbizon! With thorns, not laurels, crowned,
He looked thy sorrows in the face, and found—
Vital as seed warm nestled in the sod—
The hidden sweetness at the heart of pain;
Trusting thy sun and dew, thy wind and rain,
At home with nature, and at one with God!
I loved this poem about me Tres bien from one poet to another I couldn't have done better my self !
"Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume II/Jean-François Millet." Wiki source. N.p., 1916. Web. 24 Mar 2011.
NOT far from Paris, in fair Fontainebleau,
A lovely, memory-haunted hamlet lies,
Whose tender spell makes captive, and defies
Forgetfulness. The peasants come and go,—
Their backs too used to stoop,—and patient sow
The harvest which their narrow need supplies;
Even as when, Earth's pathos in his eyes,
Millet dwelt here, companion of their woe.
Loved Barbizon! With thorns, not laurels, crowned,
He looked thy sorrows in the face, and found—
Vital as seed warm nestled in the sod—
The hidden sweetness at the heart of pain;
Trusting thy sun and dew, thy wind and rain,
At home with nature, and at one with God!
I loved this poem about me Tres bien from one poet to another I couldn't have done better my self !
"Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume II/Jean-François Millet." Wiki source. N.p., 1916. Web. 24 Mar 2011.
Jean François Millet
"Jean François Millet ." Web. 25 Mar 2011. <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PNVLBNERL_w>.
Merci to the creater of this video ! They got a great portrait of me in my younger years when I lived in Paris uhhhhh. I wish i could forget that god forsaken city !
The Shepheardes knitting
"The Shepheardes knitting ." Web. 25 Mar 2011.
The inspiration for this painting came to me after a long day wondering around Barbizon. Doing that day i saw a young shepherdess knitting in a field and a thought the scene was very tranquil so i decides the next week later to paint it.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Battle at Soufflot barricades ( Revolution of 1848)
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