I'm having a really visual summer. Of course, I've always been able to see (which I appreciate), but I've never been what you would call a "visual" person. Sometimes I literally have to stand outside public restrooms and give the little graphic people pictures on the doors some thought. Most often because I'm usually wearing pants and not a skirt. I couldn't tell you what colors go with what other colors if my life depended on it (which has made for some interesting outfits in the past). When dealing with maps or directions of any kind, I need words, or I am screwed.
But this summer? I'm watching every single movie I can get my hands on. I'm taking walks and noticing gardens and flowers where I hadn't before. And I'm very interested in art. Right now I'm working my way through a DVD series about artists called The Great Artists (presented by art historian Tim Marlow, who has a British accent, which doesn't hurt). It's a great series because every program is about 24 minutes long, which is perfect to watch while I eat lunch or supper. The program about Van Gogh? Nothing short of spectacular.
Which explains why I was so pleased to get the book John Sloan's New York at the library the other day. This is one of those books that I must just have seen on the "New Nonfiction" list and requested, because I'd forgotten all about it, and I had no idea what it would be about when I brought it home. So imagine my pleasant surprise when I found it full of Sloan's beautiful oil paintings of New York City, circa 1871-1951 (his life span). Isn't that picture in the left corner gorgeous? (It's "The City from Greenwich Village," 1922, with lower Manhattan and Wall Street glowing pink in the distance.) Mmm, I love the rich dark colors and I love the subject. I like the laundry picture too; look at the light! What an artist. What a city. I'll always be a words girl, thinking one word is worth a thousand pictures, but I'm starting to come around.