I wrote a piece recently about Barack Obama finding pleasure in the smallest daily activities. He said he found doing the dishes soothing. Some people said: huh? But I was right there with him, as I wrote in the piece. It turns out, he may be on to something. From Mastery:The Keys to Long Term Success (a book I first learned about from kottke.org) which discusses the powers of dish-washing:

The photos of the Civil War in this collection are so captivating. Plus, it was great to see pictures of Mom, including one of my favorites: 

A fabulous video can be found here.

I can handle photography exhibits for only so long in a gallery. I love them intensely but then I'm ready to move on. But this Flickr show of 1930s New York photographs linked to by Kottke captured my attention for quite a long time. The printing would be better in person, but the intimacy of a snapshot matches the intimacy of viewing in your own space on your computer.

If you only use your computer to crunch numbers at the office then viewing these pictures, or any pictures, on that angry little box is not an intimate experience. Since I live my entire life in my computer, it's quite intimate. With more and more people processing their own family snapshots, personal letters, family genealogy and hobbies on their home computers, I'm guessing the computer is becoming ever more intimate for a lot of other people.

The pictures of Obama on election night feel like a part of this same process. Millions looked in on the campaign photographs which seemed more intimate and approachable than the stylized pictures the newsmagazines gave us.

During our brief holiday away with the kids we watched the first three episodes of Slings and Arrows, a Canadian television comedy about a Shakespeare troupe. I tend to like all art after a campaign is over because I'm so thirsty for it that I'm indiscriminate. Merely having time to think about something other than a campaign makes me overly appreciate everything. However, this series is at least worth a Netflix.

Sometimes on Election Day you need something to listen to while you're passing time. I suggest this song right here.

via Kottke

My wife and I stole an hour at the Phillips Collection in Washington the other night. It was a visit of a perfect length. After 45 minutes, to get my marginal minute, the art has to be really good. Art is like guitar practice. One long session does nothing. A half hour regularly is what's called for.

Had I been at the museum on vacation-- where I felt compelled to spend two hours, I probably would not have stopped to only seriously consider a few pieces. I would have rushed to see everything and in doing so would have seen nothing at all.

In this appetizer-sized visit I finally got Rothko. There's a delightful little room of four of his works. It's almost like a chapel (Yes, there's one in Houston). It's delicately lit and when we went in, it was empty. The room can't fit more than eight. Two should be the limit.

 

I can't explain why this time was different but the color choices and the weight he gave to each seemed absolutely perfect.

I was also captured by two works by Pierre Bonnard. One from his youth ("Narrow Street in Paris") and another from much later ("The Open Window").

 

They were both gorgeous in their own way. I know little about art, and I'm almost certainly going to get this wrong but the Paris street seemed younger to me: it was a hard, cold image of city life. The light was perfectly captured and the scene was one of activity--not heroic or special activity (which can, in its own way be heroic, of course).

The second one, "The Open Window" was relaxed, colorful, at ease. It felt older. Perhaps it's as simple as interior v. exterior. The Paris street is all about exterior. Though the window shows an inviting world outside, it's an inward-feeling scene.

"The important thing is to remember what most impressed you and to put it on canvas as fast as possible. Then, using only one color as a basis, you structure the entire painting around it. Color represents a logic that is just as unrelenting as the logic of form. One must never let go before having managed to set down one's first impressions."
Pierre Bonnard, 1937

We saw them again last night. I think that makes four times. It was great, as usual. They played "I Know Where You Are," which is one of my favorites. It requires playing a nutty bar chord that requires a 6 foot long pinky finger as far as I can tell.
 


You can find other clips here.