russe

DUST LIGHT, LEAVES

Above autumn's burgundy
and rust,
beyond the orange groves
chafing and ruddy in the frost,
a cloud lifts into blue . . .

the west goes up all haydust, flame,
and the flat land glimmers
out to it on the day-stream--
it is Millet's sky of "The Angelus,"

that nine- teenth century sky
we have only in paintings
and in these few still moments
in their rose and amber rags.

As a child, I remember this . . .
standing on the creek stones,
dusk moving over the fields
like a ship's hull pulling away

with that first sense of loss
and release; I saw it was
all about the beginning of dust
rising into the long sky's seam.
into my own two eyes and hands.

A chalk-white moon overhead
and to the right, umber waves
of sparrows back and through
the empty trees . . .

Soon, stars will draw analogies
in the dark, but now the world
is simple as the dead leaves
glowing in this late hour,

simple as our desire
to rise lucent as clouds
in their camisoles of dust,
the cool air burning though us

over leaves drifting on a pond,
over the last memory
of ourselves looking up,
stunned as a carp blinking at the light.

Christopher Buckley

(this whole exploration in hue began when i noticed, in the metropolitan museum's collection, the oddly matching color schemes of the (at top) dagobert peche textile and the callot soeurs gown. i am not sophisticated in color theory, but i poked around until sense seemed to begun being made. the ballet russe had a tremendous influence on design in the first quarter of the twentieth century. how those became the colors of the ballet russe, and how these same colors came to become circulated around the western world, i do not know. but know that matisse as well as bakst designed their costumes, then carried the language of their colors into the world.)

the panama-pacific, that is! • part 2

All other Expositions have been almost colorless. This is the first to make use of the natural colors of sea and sky, of hill and tree, and to lay upon all its grounds and buildings tints that harmonize with these. Jules Guerin, the master colorist, was the artist who used the Exposition as a canvas on which to spread glorious hues. Guerin decided, first, that the basic material of the buildings should be an imitation of the travertine of ancient Roman palaces. On this delicate old ivory background he laid a simple series of warm, yet quiet, Oriental hues, which, in their adaptation to the material of construction and to the architecture, as well as in their exquisite harmony with the natural setting, breeds a vast respect for his art.

The color scheme covers everything, from the domes of the buildings down to the sand in the driveways and the uniforms of the Exposition guards. The walls, the flags and pennants that wave over the buildings, the shields and other emblems of heraldry that hide the sources of light, draw their hues from Guerin's plan.

The flowers of the garden conform to it, the statuary is tinted in accordance with it, and even the painters whose mural pictures adorn the courts and arches and the Fine Arts Rotunda were obliged to use his color series. The result gives such life and beauty and individuality to this Exposition as no other ever had. 1

It's a shame Mathews' superb talent should have been employed only in one panel. His "Victorious Spirit," a rich and noble composition, has certain enduring qualities which are not to be found in a single one of any of the others. Simply taken as a decoration, his picture is most effective by its richness of color,

It seems hardly possible to do adequate justice to the very unusual genius of Frank Brangwyn, who charms thousands of Exposition visitors with his eight panels, representing the Four Elements, in the Court of Abundance.

Nature is represented, in all the fecundity of the earth. Only in our wildest dreams, and only in the advertisements of California farm lands and orchards, do such grapes, pumpkins, pears, and apples exist.

The picture to the left shows the grape-treaders, in the old- fashioned and un- hygienic practice of crushing grapes by dancing on them in enormous vats. Others are seen gathering and delivering more grapes. As in the other picture, showing the harvest of fruit, more people are shown. Brangwyn never hesitates to use great numbers of people, which seem to give him no trouble whatever in their modeling and characterization.

Following on to the right, "Fire," represented as the primitive fire and as industrial fire, in two pictures, continues the scheme. That group of squatting woodmen carefully nursing a little fire is almost comical, with their extended cheeks, and one can almost feel the effort of their lungs in the strained anatomy of their backs. There does not seem to be anything too difficult for Brangwyn. "Industrial Fire" is interesting from the decorative note of many pieces of pottery in the foreground. They seem to have come from the kiln which muscular men are attending.

"Water" is unusually graceful and delicate in its vertical arrange- ment of trees and the curve of the fountain stream, coming from the side of a hill. Women, children, and men have congregated, taking their turn in filling all sorts of vessels, some carried on their heads, some in their arms. Brangwyn's clever treatment of zoölogical and botanical detail is well shown in flowers in the foreground, such as foxglove and freesia, and the graceful forms of a pair of pinkish flamingoes. In the other panel of the same subject, a group of men on the shore are hauling in their nets.

The last of the four, "Air," represents this element in two totally different ways; the one on the left gives the more tender, gentle movement of this element, in the suggestion of the scent of the bowmen screened by trees, moving toward their prospective prey, while the other very bold composition is of a windmill turned away from the destructive power of an impending windstorm. In the foreground people are rushed along by gusts of wind, while children, unaware of the impending storm, are flying kites. 2

(interesting, isn't it, to hear commentary from the moment, opinionated as it may be. the brangwyn murals still exist at san francisco's herbst theater. updates to follow. bibliography to follow.)

colours*

FOR ANNE GREGORY

'Never shall a young man,

Thrown into despair

By those great honey-coloured

Ramparts at your ear,


Love you for yourself alone

And not your yellow hair.'


'But I can get a hair-dye

And set such colour there,

Brown, or black, or carrot,


That young men in despair

May love me for myself alone

And not my yellow hair.'


'I heard an old religious man

But yesternight declare

That he had found a text to prove



That only God, my dear,

Could love you for yourself alone

And not your yellow hair.'


WB Yeats





















*what artists like seitei watanabe gave us was the way to color that sings

love the wild color

(for princess to welcome her back)

before japanese prints arrived in the west, this on the left may have been what passed as riotous color; imagine the response to this on the right. nice girls didn't, but raoul dufy did.

LOVE THE WILD SWAN

“I hate my verses, every line, every word.

Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade’s curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.







Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.

Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,
The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings.”

—This wild swan of a world is no hunter’s game.

Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast,
Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.

Does it matter whether you hate your...self? At least
Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.

Robinson Jeffers

Robinson Jeffers, “Love the Wild Swan” from The Collected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers, edited by Tim Hunt. Copyright (c) by the Jeffers Literary Properties.

Source: The Collected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers (Stanford University Press, 1988).

THE GREAT EXHIBITION:

About Dyes and Beauty and Coal-Tar Mauve and Magenta How Made Extra- ordinary Specimen of Aniline Art and the New Colors

Although the ancient Britons dyed themselves with wood, and only a few years ago an Irish member of Parliament offered to die on the floor of the House, it is a remarkable fact that the pigments used in manufacture for the purpose of imparting brilliant effects to silks and linens, have until quite recently been imported from Holland.

The secret of color is, however, returning to the British Isles, and the mauves and magentas, so much in fashion just now, seem to promise for the islanders a monopoly of these peculiar dyes. Does it ever occur to Angelina, as she floats magnificently down Broadway, in all the luster of youth and fashion, that the exquisite dress she wears, and whose faultless sheen seems to be robbed from the dewy blushes of Spring, is in fact dipped and steeped in the essence of vile, smoky, stinky, crackly English coal; that she is — not to be too squeamish about terms — walking off with a ton, more or less of the best Walls-end attached to her skirts.

Yes, frightful as it may seem, our wives and sweethearts are gradually becoming carboniferous, and the day may not be far distant when we shall have to hand them to dinner with a pair of tongs. Coal, or rather coal tar, is the basis of all the new colors now in use, such as mauve and magenta, Both these well-known and highly esteemed colors were discovered by English chemists, who have already reaped handsome fortunes by their labor.

Perkin, the discoverer of mauve, was in search of artificial quinine, when he happened upon it, and almost at the same time a Mr. Simpson discovered magenta. Both these belong to the aniline, or coal-tar series of dyes, and as the way in which the color is produced has been very explicitly given, I have no hesitation in recapitulating it here.

When these new colors have been naturalized in the world of art, as well as in manufactures, what extraordinary results may be anticipated from the pencils of great colorists! At present, the manufacturers carry everything before them. They can make a silk dress of tough, durable, palpable material, a hundred times brighter and more beautiful than the best artist can paint it. "Dick Tinto" is no longer privileged to flatter a lady’s dress as well as her face.

July 28, 1862
The New York Times 1

In its early years, Ault & Wiborg capitalized on two innovations -- the use of coal-tar dyes to produce brightly colored inks and the development of lithography. Both developments helped to expand the ink business beyond the simple black product that had been produced for centuries. Toulouse-Lautrec was just one of the artists who used Ault & Wiborg inks for his prints; and the company commissioned him to create an advertising poster. 2

we tend to think of color as, well, having always existed. yes they have... but clearly the ability to reproduce them has not. we looked at the resurgence of blues here, science catching up with desire. and the rest of the colors came shortly thereafter. these wondrous inks dovetailed easily with the rest of the things we've been looking at here to create that golden poster moment.

it was 1859 when this color revolution came about in the west, one year after the entry into trade with japan. the japanese prints evidence the usage of a wide range of colors, though, for over a century. were secrets of the japanese inks part of the scientific discoveries that occurred just at the time that they would have if they had? i do not know.

i've written david lance goines to see if he knows; he's steeped in printing history knowledge.
if i hear anything i'll let you know.

every day i will give you a color

COLORS PASSING THROUGH US

Purple as tulips in May, mauve
into lush velvet, purple
as the stain blackberries leave
on the lips, on the hands,
the purple of ripe grapes
sunlit and warm as flesh.

Every day I will give you a color,
like a new flower in a bud vase
on your desk. Every day
I will paint you, as women
color each other with henna
on hands and on feet.

Red as henna, as cinnamon,
as coals after the fire is banked,
the cardinal in the feeder,
the roses tumbling on the arbor
their weight bending the wood
the red of the syrup I make from petals.

Orange as the perfumed fruit
hanging their globes on the glossy tree,
orange as pumpkins in the field,
orange as butterflyweed
and the monarchs
who come to eat it, orange as my
cat running lithe through the high grass.

Yellow as a goat’s wise
and wicked eyes,
yellow as a hill of daffodils,
yellow as dandelions
by the highway,
yellow as butter and egg yolks,
yellow as a school bus
stopping you,
yellow as a slicker in a downpour.

Here is my bouquet, here is a sing
song of all the things you make
me think of, here is oblique
praise for the height and depth
of you and the width too.
Here is my box of new crayons at your feet.

Green as mint jelly, green
as a frog on a lily pad twanging,
the green of cos lettuce upright
about to bolt into opulent towers,
green as Grand Chartreuse in a clear
glass, green as wine bottles.

Blue as cornflowers, delphiniums,
bachelors’ buttons.
Blue as Roquefort,
blue as Saga. Blue as still water.
Blue as the eyes of a Siamese cat.
Blue as shadows on new snow,
as a spring
azure sipping from a puddle
on the blacktop.

Cobalt as the midnight sky
when day has gone without a trace
and we lie in each other’s arms
eyes shut and fingers open
and all the colors of the world
pass through our bodies like
strings of fire.

Marge Piercy

Marge Piercy, “Colors passing through us” from Colors Passing Through Us (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2003). First appeared in The Southern California Anthology 16 (Fall 1999). Copyright © 1999, 2003 by Marge Piercy and Middlemarsh, Inc.