Americana - 2011 Calendar
2011 Calendar
Man's Best Friend - 2011 Calendar
Showing posts with label Calendar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Calendar. Show all posts
"Art is a lie that makes us realize truth" - Pablo Picasso
From Writer's Almanac:
October 25 is the birthday of the man who said, "Art is a lie that makes us realize truth." That's Pablo Picasso, born in Malaga, Spain (1881), who helped found the Cubist movement. His paintings include Guernica (1937), set amidst the Spanish Civil War, and Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, (The Young Ladies of Avignon) (1907), which features five naked ladies in a brothel in Barcelona. That painting now hangs at New York City's MOMA.
October 25 is the birthday of the man who said, "Art is a lie that makes us realize truth." That's Pablo Picasso, born in Malaga, Spain (1881), who helped found the Cubist movement. His paintings include Guernica (1937), set amidst the Spanish Civil War, and Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, (The Young Ladies of Avignon) (1907), which features five naked ladies in a brothel in Barcelona. That painting now hangs at New York City's MOMA.
"Does one become a visionary or, rather, is it not that one has been blind until then?"
From Writer's Almanac:
October 24 is the birthday of writer and explorer Alexandra David-Néel, born in Saint-Mandé, France, in 1868. She had an unhappy childhood, the only child of bitter parents who fought all the time. She tried running away over and over, starting when she was two years old. As a teenager, she traveled by herself through European countries, including a bike trip across Spain. When she was 21, she inherited money from her parents, and she used it all to go to Sri Lanka.
She became fluent in Tibetan, met the Dalai Lama, practiced meditation and yoga, and trekked through the Himalayas.
And she wrote about it all. Her most famous book is Magic and Mystery in Tibet (1929), in which she wrote: "Then it was springtime in the cloudy Himalayas. Nine hundred feet below my cave rhododendrons blossomed. I climbed barren mountain-tops. Long tramps led me to desolate valleys studded with translucent lakes ... Solitude, solitude! ... Mind and senses develop their sensibility in this contemplative life made up of continual observations and reflections. Does one become a visionary or, rather, is it not that one has been blind until then?"
She died in 1969, at the age of 101, a few months after renewing her passport.
References:
Writer's Almanac
October 24 is the birthday of writer and explorer Alexandra David-Néel, born in Saint-Mandé, France, in 1868. She had an unhappy childhood, the only child of bitter parents who fought all the time. She tried running away over and over, starting when she was two years old. As a teenager, she traveled by herself through European countries, including a bike trip across Spain. When she was 21, she inherited money from her parents, and she used it all to go to Sri Lanka.
She became fluent in Tibetan, met the Dalai Lama, practiced meditation and yoga, and trekked through the Himalayas.
And she wrote about it all. Her most famous book is Magic and Mystery in Tibet (1929), in which she wrote: "Then it was springtime in the cloudy Himalayas. Nine hundred feet below my cave rhododendrons blossomed. I climbed barren mountain-tops. Long tramps led me to desolate valleys studded with translucent lakes ... Solitude, solitude! ... Mind and senses develop their sensibility in this contemplative life made up of continual observations and reflections. Does one become a visionary or, rather, is it not that one has been blind until then?"
She died in 1969, at the age of 101, a few months after renewing her passport.
References:
Writer's Almanac
Samuel Taylor Coleridge - October 21
From Writer's Almanac:
October 21 is the birthday of the Romantic poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, born in England (1772). He was an extremely ambitious young man, who lectured on religion, wrote journalism, and single-handedly tried to launch his own magazine. But he was exhausting himself and falling into a depression when he was introduced to the poet William Wordsworth. They met only briefly in 1795, but they struck up a correspondence and began exchanging poems. Wordsworth encouraged Coleridge to stop writing journalism and focus on poetry, and Coleridge took the advice. His poetry made him happier and happier, and after finishing a long and ambitious poem, he decided he needed to see Wordsworth in the flesh, so he set out to walk to Wordsworth's house, miles away. The walk took several days and when he approached Wordsworth's home, he was so overcome with happiness that he leapt over the gate and ran down the field to Wordsworth's house.
That first year of their friendship was the most productive period of Coleridge's life. They both liked to compose their poetry while walking, so they took long walks together throughout that summer, though Wordsworth preferred to stay on the path while Coleridge liked rough terrain. That winter, they took spent several days hiking along the coast, and to pass the time they made up a gothic ballad about a tragic sea voyage. Coleridge became obsessed with the poem when he got home, filling it with images from nightmares he'd had since he was a kid. It became his masterpiece, "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" (1798), the story of a sailor who brings a curse on his ship when he kills a bird and for the rest of his voyage he is tormented by sea monsters and the ghosts of his dead shipmates.
But within a few years of writing "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," Coleridge's life began to fall apart. He became addicted to opium, which ruined his friendship with Wordsworth. He wrote a great book of literary criticism called Biographia Literaria (1817) but he failed to complete most of his ambitious projects, including a 1,400-page work of geography, a two-volume history of English prose, a translation of Faust, a musical about Adam and Eve, a history of logic, a history of German metaphysics, a study of witchcraft, and an encyclopedia.
His friends hated the fact that he had wasted so much of his talent. They'd all considered him the most brilliant writer and thinker they'd ever known, but he accomplished so little.
References:
Writer's Almanac.
October 21 is the birthday of the Romantic poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, born in England (1772). He was an extremely ambitious young man, who lectured on religion, wrote journalism, and single-handedly tried to launch his own magazine. But he was exhausting himself and falling into a depression when he was introduced to the poet William Wordsworth. They met only briefly in 1795, but they struck up a correspondence and began exchanging poems. Wordsworth encouraged Coleridge to stop writing journalism and focus on poetry, and Coleridge took the advice. His poetry made him happier and happier, and after finishing a long and ambitious poem, he decided he needed to see Wordsworth in the flesh, so he set out to walk to Wordsworth's house, miles away. The walk took several days and when he approached Wordsworth's home, he was so overcome with happiness that he leapt over the gate and ran down the field to Wordsworth's house.
That first year of their friendship was the most productive period of Coleridge's life. They both liked to compose their poetry while walking, so they took long walks together throughout that summer, though Wordsworth preferred to stay on the path while Coleridge liked rough terrain. That winter, they took spent several days hiking along the coast, and to pass the time they made up a gothic ballad about a tragic sea voyage. Coleridge became obsessed with the poem when he got home, filling it with images from nightmares he'd had since he was a kid. It became his masterpiece, "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" (1798), the story of a sailor who brings a curse on his ship when he kills a bird and for the rest of his voyage he is tormented by sea monsters and the ghosts of his dead shipmates.
But within a few years of writing "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," Coleridge's life began to fall apart. He became addicted to opium, which ruined his friendship with Wordsworth. He wrote a great book of literary criticism called Biographia Literaria (1817) but he failed to complete most of his ambitious projects, including a 1,400-page work of geography, a two-volume history of English prose, a translation of Faust, a musical about Adam and Eve, a history of logic, a history of German metaphysics, a study of witchcraft, and an encyclopedia.
His friends hated the fact that he had wasted so much of his talent. They'd all considered him the most brilliant writer and thinker they'd ever known, but he accomplished so little.
References:
Writer's Almanac.
Arthur Rimbaud - October 20
From Writer's Almanac:
October 20 is the birthday of the poet Arthur Rimbaud, born in France (1854). He became friends with the elder poet Paul Verlaine, whose work he admired, and Verlaine invited him to stay at his house. When he arrived, Rimbaud had his first masterpiece in his pocket, a poem called "The Drunken Boat" (1871), describing the journey of an empty boat as it wanders the ocean and eventually breaks apart. Rimbaud and Verlaine fell into a love affair that shocked the rest of the Paris literary scene. But they had a bitter break-up, and the relationship ended when Verlaine tried to murder Rimbaud with a pistol, shooting him in the arm.
Verlaine went to prison and Rimbaud went back to live with his mother, where he wrote one of his last books. He wrote: "I tried to invent new flowers, new stars, new flesh, new tongues. ... I am returned to the soil with a duty to seek and rough reality to embrace. ... At last, I shall ask forgiveness for having fed on lies."
Rimbaud had been 16 when he started publishing his poetry and he was 19 when gave up on poetry and took off to wander around the world, winding up in Africa, where he became an arms dealer. He kept writing letters to his family, but he never wrote another poem and never gave any hint that he missed poetry. A cult grew up in Paris around the few books of poetry he had published, and years before his death, people already referred to him as the late Arthur Rimbaud.
References:
Writer's Almanac.
October 20 is the birthday of the poet Arthur Rimbaud, born in France (1854). He became friends with the elder poet Paul Verlaine, whose work he admired, and Verlaine invited him to stay at his house. When he arrived, Rimbaud had his first masterpiece in his pocket, a poem called "The Drunken Boat" (1871), describing the journey of an empty boat as it wanders the ocean and eventually breaks apart. Rimbaud and Verlaine fell into a love affair that shocked the rest of the Paris literary scene. But they had a bitter break-up, and the relationship ended when Verlaine tried to murder Rimbaud with a pistol, shooting him in the arm.
Verlaine went to prison and Rimbaud went back to live with his mother, where he wrote one of his last books. He wrote: "I tried to invent new flowers, new stars, new flesh, new tongues. ... I am returned to the soil with a duty to seek and rough reality to embrace. ... At last, I shall ask forgiveness for having fed on lies."
Rimbaud had been 16 when he started publishing his poetry and he was 19 when gave up on poetry and took off to wander around the world, winding up in Africa, where he became an arms dealer. He kept writing letters to his family, but he never wrote another poem and never gave any hint that he missed poetry. A cult grew up in Paris around the few books of poetry he had published, and years before his death, people already referred to him as the late Arthur Rimbaud.
References:
Writer's Almanac.
Rimbaud: A Life in Slideshow | Open Culture http://goo.gl/vTcaG
Oscar Wilde's birthday - October 16
From Writer's Almanac:
Oscar Wilde is considered by many to be the world's greatest wit. He's the author of The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), Salome (1891), An Ideal Husband (1895), and The Importance of Being Earnest (1895).
He was a brilliant conversationalist. There are entire books devoted to Oscar Wilde's one-liners. Sherlock Holmes creator Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote in his memoir about how he once had dinner with Wilde: "His conversation left an indelible impression upon my mind. He towered above us all, and yet had the art of seeming to be interested in all that we could say. He had delicacy of feeling and tact. ... He took as well as gave, but what he gave was unique. He had a curious precision of statement, a delicate flavour of humour and a trick of small gestures to illustrate his meaning, which were peculiar to himself."
His most famous play, The Importance of Being Earnest, opened in London on Valentine's Day 1895; he was 40 years old. A few months later, he was convicted of "acts of gross indecency," meaning that he had a male lover. He was sentenced to two years hard labor. When he got out of prison he moved to Paris, where his health deteriorated and he died at the age of 46 in a seedy hotel, at which he was registered under the name Sebastian Melmoth. Poet W.H. Auden later wrote: "From the beginning Wilde performed his life and continued to do so even after fate had taken the plot out of his hands."
Oscar Wilde said, "Life is never fair. ... And perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it is not."
He was a brilliant conversationalist. There are entire books devoted to Oscar Wilde's one-liners. Sherlock Holmes creator Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote in his memoir about how he once had dinner with Wilde: "His conversation left an indelible impression upon my mind. He towered above us all, and yet had the art of seeming to be interested in all that we could say. He had delicacy of feeling and tact. ... He took as well as gave, but what he gave was unique. He had a curious precision of statement, a delicate flavour of humour and a trick of small gestures to illustrate his meaning, which were peculiar to himself."
His most famous play, The Importance of Being Earnest, opened in London on Valentine's Day 1895; he was 40 years old. A few months later, he was convicted of "acts of gross indecency," meaning that he had a male lover. He was sentenced to two years hard labor. When he got out of prison he moved to Paris, where his health deteriorated and he died at the age of 46 in a seedy hotel, at which he was registered under the name Sebastian Melmoth. Poet W.H. Auden later wrote: "From the beginning Wilde performed his life and continued to do so even after fate had taken the plot out of his hands."
Oscar Wilde said, "Life is never fair. ... And perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it is not."
P. G. Wodehouse's birthday - October 15
From Writer's Almanac:
When he was two years old, his parents went off to Hong Kong, leaving him to be raised by various aunts. He would later feature lots of scary, mean-spirited aunts in his fiction, and he once wrote: "It is no use telling me that there are bad aunts and good aunts. At the core they are all alike."
He's the author of 96 books, most of those about a butler named Jeeves who is forever rescuing his employer, Bertie Wooster, from all sorts of ludicrous situations.
Wodehouse was exiled from England after some satirical comments he made on German radio during World War II, when he was taken prisoner by the Germans. He moved to France and then the United States, became an American citizen at the age of 73, continued to write stories about English castles and butlers, and eventually settled in Long Island, where on a daily basis he walked his dogs, had cocktails with lunch, and watched a soap opera — all in addition to writing novels at his typewriter. He lived to be 93.
References:
Writer's Almanac.
When he was two years old, his parents went off to Hong Kong, leaving him to be raised by various aunts. He would later feature lots of scary, mean-spirited aunts in his fiction, and he once wrote: "It is no use telling me that there are bad aunts and good aunts. At the core they are all alike."
He's the author of 96 books, most of those about a butler named Jeeves who is forever rescuing his employer, Bertie Wooster, from all sorts of ludicrous situations.
Wodehouse was exiled from England after some satirical comments he made on German radio during World War II, when he was taken prisoner by the Germans. He moved to France and then the United States, became an American citizen at the age of 73, continued to write stories about English castles and butlers, and eventually settled in Long Island, where on a daily basis he walked his dogs, had cocktails with lunch, and watched a soap opera — all in addition to writing novels at his typewriter. He lived to be 93.
References:
Writer's Almanac.
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