Showing posts with label Landscape paintings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Landscape paintings. Show all posts

Vintage Art Appreciation: Las Glicinas by Pedro Blanes Viale

Life doesn’t get easier or more forgiving,
we get stronger and more resilient.
Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

Resilience is accepting your new reality,
even if it's less good than the one you had before.
You can fight it, you can do nothing but scream about what you've lost,
or you can accept that and try to put together something that's good.
Elizabeth Edwards

The above public domain painting is titled "Las glicinas" and it was painted in 1923 by Pedro Blanes Viale (1879–1926). Wisteria flowers have at times symbolized rejection and lost love but it is also a longstanding symbol of resilience due to the plant's hardiness and longevity.

You can find the image of the original painting on Wikimedia here and you can download my digitally enhanced version of the painting as a 13" x 14" @ 300 ppi JPEG here. I thought this might be a pretty addition to a garden journal or scrapbooking project but you can also simply print and frame for tabletop or wall art.

Creative Commons Licence
Digitally enhanced reproductions of public domain fine art are shared under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Vintage Art Appreciation: Portrait of O. F. Tomara by Valentin Serov

I have learned that to be with those I like is enough.
Walt Whitman

When what you want is a relationship, and not a person, get a dog.
Deb Caletti, The Secret Life of Prince Charming

The above public domain artwork is titled "Portrait of O. F. Tomara" and it was painted in 1892 by Valentin Serov (1865–1911). You can find the image of the original painting on Wikimedia here and you can download my digitally enhanced version of the painting as a 6" x 9" @ 300 ppi JPEG here. I thought this might be a pretty addition to a garden journal or scrapbooking project but you can also simply print and frame for tabletop or wall art.

Creative Commons Licence
Digitally enhanced reproductions of public domain fine art are shared under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Free Vintage Nature Poem: January by Mary Rowles Jarvis (Part 2)

Here is a winter poem, originally published in 1896, that depicts the month of January as a fierce warrior king whose strength is tempered with a kind heart.

"JANUARY"
by Mary Rowles Jarvis
(Part 2)

His rod of iron, outstretched upon the land,
Arrests the stir and music of the rills;
Again the rushing rains of his right hand
Lay bare the lasting hills.

Yet fear we not this warrior, fierce and bold,
The year has turned, the light shall lengthen soon;
The onslaught of his keen, relentless cold
Shall make straight paths for June.

His ways are stern, his meanings are benign;
Behold, unharmed, the snowdrop on his crest,
While the gold splendour of the celandine
Shines starlike on his breast!

You can find PART 1 here.

The painting above is called "Winter Landscape" by Ivan Fedorovich Choultsé (1874 – 1939). You can find the image of the original painting on Wikimedia here and my digitally enhanced version of the painting here.
If you would like to download the poem as it originally appeared in The Girl's Own Paper (as seen above) with its accompanying black and white illustration, you can find the high-res 9" x 8" @ 300 ppi JPEG here.

Creative Commons Licence
Public domain poem is from my personal collection. All digitized poems by FieldandGarden.com are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. Please credit and link back to FieldandGarden.com as your source if you use or share this work.

Free Vintage Nature Poem: January by Mary Rowles Jarvis (Part 1)

Here is a winter poem, originally published in 1896, that depicts the month of January as a stern warrior king, bringing snow and ice in his wake as he rides through the fields.

"JANUARY"
by Mary Rowles Jarvis
(Part 1)

Victorious on the utmost crags of time,
From the dread conflict of the midnight sea,
The first-born month draws near with song and chime,
A monarch great and free!

In the red storm-light of the wintry dawn
We see him stand, austere and tempest-crowned,
With sword and spear on many an ice-field drawn
To work his will profound.

His chariot is the north wind that hath crossed,
By leagues of drift and berg, the Polar main;
His sandals are the ploughshares of the frost
That rend the clods in twain.

Continue to PART 2 here.

The painting above is called "Winter Morning in Engadine" by Ivan Fedorovich Choultsé (1874 – 1939). You can find the image of the original painting on Wikimedia here and my digitally enhanced version of the painting here.

Creative Commons Licence
Public domain poem is from my personal collection. All digitized poems by FieldandGarden.com are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. Please credit and link back to FieldandGarden.com as your source if you use or share this work.

Vintage Art Appreciation: Elena Among Roses by Joaquin Sorolla

Elena Among Roses, 1907
by Joaquín Sorolla (1863–1923)

Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you,
it's not because they enjoy solitude.
It's because they have tried to blend into the world before,
and people continue to disappoint them.
Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am,
the more I will respect myself.
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

I had already found that it was not good to be alone,
and so made companionship with what there was around me,
sometimes with the universe and sometimes with my own insignificant self;
but my books were always my friends, let fail all else.
Joshua Slocum, Sailing Alone around the World

Vintage Art Appreciation: A Wooded Path in Autumn by H.A. Brendekilde

A Wooded Path in Autumn, 1902
by Hans Andersen Brendekilde (1857 – 1942)

You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.
Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Autumn is the hardest season. The leaves are all falling, and they're falling like they're falling in love with the ground.
Andrea Gibson

The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.
Anne Lamott

Vintage Art Appreciation: Souvenir of Acherese by Jean-Leon Gerome

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting
and autumn a mosaic of them all.
Stanley Horowitz

I originally found this fall landscape painting — Souvenir of Acherese, painted in 1903 by Jean-Leon Gerome (1824 – 1904) — on Wikimedia Commons, which I cropped and colour-enhanced. You can download a 7" x 5" @ 300 ppi JPEG of my digitally altered version without a watermark here. I thought it would make an attractive decoration for a scrapbooking project or a Thanksgiving card but you can also simply print and frame for wall art.

Creative Commons Licence
Digitally enhanced reproductions of public domain fine art are shared under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Vintage Art Appreciation: Summer Meadow, Pobojka by Stanislav Yulianovich Zhukovsky


Summer Meadow, Pobojka, 1938
by Stanislav Yulianovich Zhukovsky (1873 – 1944)

Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.
Henry James

Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came; and if the village had been beautiful at first, it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness. The great trees, which had looked shrunken and bare in the earlier months, had now burst into strong life and health; and stretching forth their green arms over the thirsty ground, converted open and naked spots into choice nooks, where was a deep and pleasant shade from which to look upon the wide prospect, steeped in sunshine, which lay stretched out beyond. The earth had donned her mantle of brightest green; and shed her richest perfumes abroad. It was the prime and vigour of the year; all things were glad and flourishing.
Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

All in all, it was a never-to-be-forgotten summer — one of those summers which come seldom into any life, but leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going — one of those summers which, in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, delightful friends and delightful doing, come as near to perfection as anything can come in this world.
L.M. Montgomery, Anne's House of Dreams

Vintage Art Appreciation: A Rooftop with Flowers by Joaquín Sorolla

A Rooftop with Flowers, 1906
by Joaquín Sorolla (1863 – 1923)

Every time I imagine a garden in an architectural setting,
it turns into a magical place.
I think of gardens I have seen,
that I believe I have seen, that I long to see,
surrounded by simple walls, columns, arcades or the facades of buildings -
sheltered places of great intimacy where I want to stay for a long time.
Peter Zumthor

Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm.
It exists to give you comfort, it is there to keep you warm,
and in those times of trouble when you are most alone,
the memory of love will bring you home.
John Denver

HIDEAWAY
Preserve that
secret, homey spot
in your heart,
as sanctuary
where dreams may be softly tended,
and revived.
Tara Estacaan

Vintage Art Appreciation: June by Fidelia Bridges

June, 1876
by Fidelia Bridges (1834 - 1923)

And since all this loveliness cannot be Heaven, I know in my heart it is June.
Abba Woolson

June falls asleep upon her bier of flowers;
In vain are dewdrops sprinkled o'er her,
In vain would fond winds fan her back to life,
Her hours are numbered on the floral dial.
Lucy Larcom

Spring being a tough act to follow, God created June.
Al Bernstein

So sweet, so sweet the roses in their blowing,
So sweet the daffodils, so fair to see;
So blithe and gay the hummingbird a-going
From flower to flower, a-hunting with the bee.
Nora Perry, In June

Vintage Art Appreciation: Spring in the Forest by George Edward Lodge

Spring in the Forest
by George Edward Lodge (1860 - 1954)

The beautiful spring came; and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also.
Harriet Ann Jacobs

The forest was not dark, because darkness has nothing to do with the forest — the forest is made of life, of light — but the trees moved with wind and subtle creatures.
Lauren Groff, The Midnight Zone

Old-growth forests met no needs. They simply were, in a way that bore no questions about purpose or value. They could not be created by men. They could not even be understood by men. They had too many parts that were interconnected in too many ways. Change one part and everything else would change, but in ways that were unpredictable and often inexplicable. This unpredictability removed such forests from the realm of human perspectives and values. The forest did not need to justify or explain itself. It existed outside of instrumental human considerations.
Steve Olson

Vintage Art Appreciation: The Old Stairs, Raixa by Santiago Rusiñol


The Old Stairs (Pedres velles), Raixa, 1907
by Santiago Rusiñol (1861 - 1931)

The painting:
Santiago Rusiñol's burgeoning success as a painter enabled him to concentrate almost completely on the subject closest to his heart, Spain's gardens and landscapes. When Rusiñol travelled to Mallorca, he sojourned in the locality of Bunyola whose opulent gardens became the inspiration for works such as this.

The present work depicts the upper half of the flight of stairs dedicated to Apollo in the Raixa Gardens, north of Palma de Mallarco. Originally laid out by the Moors, the Raixa Gardens were redesigned by Cardinal Antoni Despuig i Cotoner during the eighteenth century. Begun in 1902 and completed in 1907, Pedres velles is one of four pictures Rusiñol painted of the steps.

The artist:
The charismatic leader of Catalan Modernism, and a founder of Els Quatre Gats in Barcelona, Rusiñol travelled widely and spent extended periods in Paris. Notwithstanding his position as a leading member of the international avant-garde, however, it was in Spain that he was able to explore the full range of his resonant palette and where many of his most powerful and evocative works were completed.

Source: Sotheby's.

Vintage Art Appreciation: On an Apiary by Aleksandr Makovsky

On an Apiary, 1916
by Aleksandr Makovsky (1869 - 1924)

The happiness of the bee and the dolphin is to exist.
For man it is to know that and to wonder at it.
Jacques Cousteau

It is so small a thing to have enjoyed the sun,
to have lived light in the spring,
to have loved, to have thought, to have done.
Matthew Arnold

And we should always remember that, in matters of evolution, nature will select for the ability to adapt and survive, not for maximum convenience to mankind.
Phil Chandler, The Barefoot Beekeeper

Don't Just
Don't just learn, experience.
Don't just read, absorb.
Don't just change, transform.
Don't just relate, advocate.
Don't just promise, prove.
Don't just criticize, encourage.
Don't just think, ponder.
Don't just take, give.
Don't just see, feel.
Don’t just dream, do.
Don't just hear, listen.
Don't just talk, act.
Don't just tell, show.
Don't just exist, live.
Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

Vintage Art Appreciation: In the Park by Giovanni Boldini

In the Park, 1872
by Giovanni Boldini (1842 - 1931)

No matter how close we are to another person, few human relationships are as free from strife, disagreement, and frustration as is the relationship you have with a good dog. Few human beings give of themselves to another as a dog gives of itself. I also suspect that we cherish dogs because their unblemished souls make us wish - consciously or unconsciously - that we were as innocent as they are, and make us yearn for a place where innocence is universal and where the meanness, the betrayals, and the cruelties of this world are unknown.
Dean Koontz, A Big Little Life: A Memoir of a Joyful Dog

Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.
Bob Marley

Vintage Art Appreciation: A Walk in the Woods by Louis-Robert Carrier-Belleuse

A Walk in the Woods, 1873
by Louis-Robert Carrier-Belleuse (4 July 1848 – 14 June 1913)

The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.
John Muir

All forests have their own personality. I don't just mean the obvious differences, like how an English woodland is different from a Central American rain forest, or comparing tracts of West Coast redwoods to the saguaro forests of the American Southwest... they each have their own gossip, their own sound, their own rustling whispers and smells. A voice speaks up when you enter their acres that can't be mistaken for one you'd hear anyplace else, a voice true to those particular tress, individual rather than of their species.
Charles de Lint, The Onion Girl

The forest has shrunk
And fear has expanded,
The forests have dwindled,
There are less animals now,
less courage and less lightning,
less beauty
and the moon lies bare,
deflowered by force and
then abandoned.
Visar Zhiti, The Condemned Apple: Selected Poetry

In the beginning I gave you paper for books, fruits for food, roots, bark and leaves for medicine, and I gave you shelter from the scorching sun and fierce rainfall, but now you cut me down for parts and set me on fire without remorse.
Paul Bamikole

Vintage Art Appreciation: A January Evening in the Haagse Bosch by Louis Apol

A January Evening in the Haagse Bosch, 1875
by Louis Apol (1850 - 1936)

Inhale and hold the evening in your lungs.
Sebastian Faulks, Engleby

To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring - these are some of the rewards of the simple life.
John Burroughs

I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on,
The windows and the stars illumined, one by one,
The rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily,
And the moon rise and turn them silver. I shall see
The springs, the summers, and the autumns slowly pass;
And when old Winter puts his blank face to the glass,
I shall close all my shutters, pull the curtains tight,
And build me stately palaces by candlelight.
Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal

Vintage Art Appreciation: A Winter Woodland by Karl Rosen

A Winter Woodland
by Karl Rosen (1864 - 1934)

The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.
John Muir

The places of quiet are going away, the churches, the woods, the libraries. And it is only in silence we can hear the voice inside of us which gives us true peace.
James Rozoff

Here is your country. Cherish these natural wonders, cherish the natural resources, cherish the history and romance as a sacred heritage, for your children and your children's children. Do not let selfish men or greedy interests skin your country of its beauty, its riches or its romance.
Theodore Roosevelt

An English wood is like a good many other things in life-- very promising at a distance, but a hollow mockery when you get within. You see daylight on both sides, and the sun freckles the very bracken. Our woods need the night to make them seem what they ought to be--what they once were, before our ancestors' descendants demanded so much more money, in these so much more various days.
Gertrude Atherton, The Bell in the Fog & Other Stories

Vintage Art Appreciation: The Quiet of the Lake, Roundhay Park by John Atkinson Grimshaw

The Quiet of the Lake, Roundhay Park, 1870
by John Atkinson Grimshaw (1836 - 1893)

You cannot wait for an untroubled world to have an untroubled moment. The terrible phone call, the rainstorm, the sinister knock on the door—they will all come. Soon enough arrive the treacherous villain and the unfair trial and the smoke and the flames of the suspicious fires to burn everything away. In the meantime, it is best to grab what wonderful moments you find lying around.
Lemony Snicket, Shouldn't You Be in School?

Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away... and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast.... be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust.... and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Vintage Art Appreciation: Winter Landscape in Areskutan by Carl Brandt

Winter Landscape in Areskutan, 1921
by Carl Brandt (1852 - 1930)

I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.
Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America

Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance.
Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence.
Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.
Yoko Ono

Vintage Art Appreciation: Moonlit Nigt by Ivan Kramskoi

Moonlit Nigt, 1880
by Ivan Kramskoi (1837 - 1887)

Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.
Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others... and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.
Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse