montair

[montair]

There's a guy in the place who's got a bittersweet face

And he goes by the name of Ebeneezer Goode

His friends call him 'Ezeer and he is the main geezer

And he'll vibe up the place like no other man could

He's refined, sublime, he makes you feel fine

Though very much maligned and misunderstood

But if you know 'Ezeer he's a real crowd pleaser

He's ever so good, he's Ebeneezer Goode

…

'Eezer Goode 'Eezer Goode He's Ebeneezer Goode

The Shamen, from Ebeneezer Goode, 1992

[montair]

Erwin Olaf, Chessmen XXIV, 1988 - E. Houk Gallery, NY

[montair]

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.

Dylan Thomas, from Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, 1947

[montair]

Théodore Géricault, Study of a Man, c. 1804

[montair]

I love the gesture of your open hands

Expounding things: the blinding streak of fire

That lights the voice of your imagination.

I love your laugh and all is cadences,

The tempests of your speech, the flaming words

Of wisdom, all the agile nimble thoughts

That seethe and simmer in your smiling brain;

The oratory of truths you have declaimed,

The conquest of the difficult and dark

Obstructions laid by life along your way,

Nancy Cunard, from Praise, 1921

[montair]

Paul Baudry, Figure of Apollo, c.1850

[montair]

Maybe it was my old friend Fascination

who first let me know that Danger

was right across the hall, or maybe

it was the unrealized absence of pollen, or,

was it the nearness, Danger, of your hair’s

blatant softness, just towelled.

Or, I wanted to stop thinking — and, I wanted to ask,

Do you think God understands

                                                   attraction? Surely, right?

Tarfia Faizullah, from That One Time I Stayed Up All Night Making Excuses to Talk to Danger, 2018

[montair]

Rudolf Bonnet, Naked Figure, 1949

[montair]

I found it was better,

if I could not be no one,

to be someone. Small, but

particular. Specified, which was

an apprenticeship for special.

Cold, another word for cool.

Jameson Fitzpatrick, from Scintilla, Star, 2018

[montair]

Gustav Klimt, Seated Young Man, 1878

[montair]

I shall now mount the prow of a garlanded ship, in order to celebrate your valour. Indeed, the courage of youth aids in frightful war, from which I say, you find boundless glory, doing battle both with horsemen and on foot. Your counsels, wise beyond your years, allow me to laud you fearlessly and on every account. Farewell! This strain is sent, like Phoenician wares, over the hoary sea. And as for Castor's melody, upon Aeolian seas, look earnestly upon it, and the grace of the seven-stringed lyre, when you come upon it. Become who you are - who you've learned to be.

Pindar, Pythian Ode #2, verses 62-71, c.420BC

[montair]

Anonymous, Castor and Pollux (the Dioscuri), 1st C. AD

[montair]

O dazzling darling:

happy happenstance and fair fortune

to you, mind mesmeriser –

since we became acquainted

you’ve been my only fever.

You’re like a light-footed charger

canny at midnight combat,

the fight by close engagement

where the rider takes revenge –

men constantly look keen.

I’m an empty pail that’s purified

by your love’s burning twigs;

every night I go out with

the dream of your long-held image.

Maxamed Ibraahin Warsame ‘Hadraawi,’ from Amazement, c.1960

[montair]

Michelangelo, Study, c.1550

[montair]

Honey, I love to go to parties

And I like to have a good time,

But if it gets too pale after a while

Honey and I start looking to find

One good man.

Hmm, don't you know I've been searching,

Oh yes I have!

One good man,

Oh ain't much, honey ain't much,

It's only everything, whoa.

Janis Joplin, from One Good Man, 1969

[montair]

Robert Cornelius, Self-Portrait, 1839

[montair]

Mmmedalla! What do you dream of? I dream of a day when, from the capitals of the world, I shall release missile-sculptures to fly—at nine times the speed of sound—slim as a stork on a square in Beijing—bent crushed like a soldier’s boot after an explosion—on an airport in Ecuador in splinters—on the fields of Omaha. A few—to cross interstellar space accumulating, as they wing along, asteroids, meteorites, magnetic fields, interstellar germs of a new life on their way from our galaxy to the Spiral Nebula. Mmmedalla….

David Medalla, Manifesto, 1965