Not mine, actually, but Michael Lawrence's. Lawrence is a fascinating, multi-talented painter, sculptor, and writer, based on the Greek island of Hydra, where he has his studio. Lawrence, widely collected by Hollywood types like Oliver Stone, was greatly influenced by his mother and father, who were, if not Hollywood royalty, then within the palace walls: his father was famous film noir actor Marc Lawrence, who often played memorable heavies; and his mother was novelist-screenwriter Fanya Foss. They moved to Italy in the 50s, and befriended many European and expat artists and actors there. Returned to LA as a teen, Michael went to high school with Jim Morrison, of The Doors. Lawrence's exuberant, joyous, playful, and colourful paintings, prints, sketches, and watercolours are inspired by Fellini, Tati, and in general represent a carnivalesque vision, referencing poetry, film, and other cultural signposts, as well as the sunny, sometimes erotic, lifestyle of the Greek islands. He is an artist worth getting to know. His book, My Voyage in Art, is a good intro to the man and his work.
A poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.
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