Gates and Fences: A Photo a Week Challenge

Self is fascinated by gates and fences. All kinds of gates and fences.

For this week’s Photo a Week Challenge, she went browsing through her archives and selected three: two from a friend’s garden in Menlo Park, one from the Gamble Garden Center in Palo Alto:

Menlo Park, California

Menlo Park, California

Gamble Garden, Palo Alto, California

The Slaughterman’s Daughter, p. 6

Yes, dear blog readers, self finished The Gallery of Miracles and Madness last night. She picked up the pace after the halfway point, because it is depressing to read about how a failed artist like Young Adolf Hitler, only minimally educated (He could read and write, obv, but not much. HA! Sounds like another demagogue self knows), could build one idea (cultural degeneracy) into a political platform, which he then used to wield absolute control over, first, his party, then his country, and, ultimately, Europe.

Now she is reading a novel about one of those people Young Adolf hated so much: Mende Speismann, a young woman in a Russian shtetl.

. . .a man tells his wife he is going into town to learn a trade, only to be swept up in the intellectual circles of Odessa; a father swears to his daughters that he will come back with a hefty dowry and, all of a sudden, one hears that he is “kissing the mezuzahs” of Kiev bordellos. Mende knows that only fools find consolation in the knowledge that others suffer the same woes as they, and yet contentment steals over her as she reads, overcoming any sentiment of feminine solidarity that she might have felt with these women. She is not like them, she will never be like them. She has not rushed off to publish advertisements, she has not complained to the leaders of the community, and she has not circulated descriptions of Zvi-Meir Speismann, the man who tore her life to pieces.

The Slaughterman’s Daughter, by Yaniv Iczkovits

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

1938

All over Europe, artists were on the run. Beckman left for the Netherlands the day after Hitler’s speech at the Haus der deutschen Kunst. He would spend the next ten years in Amsterdam, trying to get a visa for the United States. Kokoschka was in Prague, where he painted Self-Portrait of a Degenerate Artist, his response to Entartete Kunst, which showed him sitting with arms folded while a man and a deer lurked in the forest behind him: the artist as fugitive. Ernst remained in Paris, where he would later be picked up by the Gestapo before fleeing to America with the help of Peggy Guggenheim. Klee and Kirchner were in Switzerland, where Klee produced hundreds of pieces that dealt with his fate. Kirchner, depressed and fearful that German soldiers would eventually come for him, shot himself dead in the summer of 1938.

Those German modernists who hadn’t fled lived in a state of internal exile, working little or furtively, in some cases under surveillance.

The Gallery of Miracles and Madness, p. 152

Am picking up the pace. When Hitler starts his meteoric rise in politics, he becomes much, much less interesting.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

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