WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
[UPDATED AND BUMPED]Something Wonderful: Rare Film of Monet, Renoir, Rodin and Degas
byVanderleunonFebruary 7, 2021
4 There were giants in the earth in those days;and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown. — Genesis 6
NOW NEW AND IMPROVED with photographic evidence of Monet Reincarnated and renamed Klahn and living in armed seclusion in an undisclosed location in Washington State. Compare and contrast but be gentle since he is a sensitive forest flower with a penchant for making art.
Summer of 1983 I was 27 years old and it was my first time in Europe. I’d spent a week in London and I took the ferry from Dover to Calais. On the boat I met an American dude whose car was parked at the dock and he agreed to drive me to Paris. It was early in the morning and as we approached Giverny I suggested we visit Monet’s house. We were the only two there when they unlocked the doors. The kitchen was amazing. The room was all in yellow with an enormous black cook stove surrounded in blue tile. A fantastic ancient wood table sart in the middle. I walked up the stairs and entered Monet’s bedroom. Nobody was looking. I sat on his bed. The side I was sitting on faced out towards room length windows that overlooked the garden below. The pond and the Japanese bridge were visible from above. I thought of how many times Monet sat on the edge of that bed… yawning and scratching his head… and thinking about what he would like to paint that day.
AnneFebruary 6, 2021, 8:22 PM
Interesting to see the woman on the street recognize Degas and turn to stare.
M. MurcekFebruary 7, 2021, 4:48 AM
How long until all their works must be destroyed because rayciss?
EX-Californian PeteFebruary 7, 2021, 1:00 PM
Now THAT’S just plain cool!
Kudos to both Gerard and Casey.
Lance de BoyleFebruary 7, 2021, 2:02 PM
Young Casey’s beak is nowhere NEAR the size of the crag, the cape, the peninsula, the duffel bag, the Humvee hanging off’n that fella’s face.
Casey KlahnFebruary 7, 2021, 2:46 PM
Yes, Lance, but give them all a few more years and maybe I’ll catch up.
How did I know the photoshop was complete? When I busted out laughing.
You cannot help but idolize your master painters and damn if those 19th Century ones didn’t have a ton of gravitas.
Casey, those pics are totally freaking cool. I suppose with a little more photoshop the beard could be stained like it’s nicotine laden, but it’s all good.
EX-Californian PeteFebruary 7, 2021, 3:44 PM
Hey Lance-
Better watch what you say about folks with “size XL proboscuses!”
With myself being a man of “exceptional nasal endowment,” I might take offense to your tomfoolery, and whup a mighty nasal blast your way- bending trees and uprooting shrubs!
On a serious note, the funniest thing I ever heard (said to my face) about my snoot was from a client many years ago. When I arrived at her house for a meeting, she said “you’re late!’
I looked at my watch, then her clock on the wall and said “no, I’m on time.”
Then she said “Well, your NOSE was on time, but the rest of you was 2 minutes late.”
The footage of Rodin was amazing. I’ve done a lot of work in stone, and it is hell on the hands. Mine are damn near wrecked from eczema, thin skin, and cramps. (joys of post-middle age) I would add that I worked in alabaster, which is a click or two down the Mohs scale from marble. I seldom had to to use a chisel, or a mallet that heavy. To see him tapping quick like that at eighty some years of age… wow.
But that footage stuck in my head, because I have an unfinished project haunting me like a ghost in the garage. As long as I worked, whether it was doing Celtic graphics, or carving stone, I had two hard rules:
Finish every project, however crappy.
Never start a project before finishing the one you’re working on.
The artistic burn to work is a lot like an addiction. It’s that weird fever that drives you to work like a galley slave for no money, and love every minute of it.
It just went cold in me one morning. I was shaping a curve with the big rasp, and literally stopped mid stroke and stepped away from the table. The piece in Italian crystal was about two thirds done. But something in my head said, “It’s over.” Time and again I went back to the table. Just couldn’t make it go…
Fifteen years later the damn thing has begun staring at me every time I go in to the garage. Worse, the big stone sits in the corner like an unpaid debt. The big stone is a crude, blunt teardrop of Italian crystal that weighs about a hundred and ten pounds. Italian crystal alabaster is pure selenite. In the raw it looks like a chunk of dirty ice. Polished up, it’s almost fiber optic. Put a flashlight on it in a dark room, and the whole stone lights up. tap it, and it rings like a chime. The big stone was going to be my all-timer. Now…
I’m not making any ‘finger-in-the-air’ declarations. No promises, even to myself. But tomorrow my buddy, John is coming over. We’re going to pick up a couple of 4×4’s, and build a new table.
JWM
Casey KlahnFebruary 7, 2021, 9:20 PM
JWM. It’s all you, man. all you.
It doesn’t matter who likes it; only you know if it’s any good or not. Doesn’t matter – it’s for yourself.
I met a guy in Colorado who has 2 full presses for wrought iron. 6 feet of concrete to base those behemoths. His hands are like feet: think with hammer callouses and I mean inches thick. It’s a cool art and I want to take it up, too. Maybe start with wax.
AnneFebruary 8, 2021, 8:35 AM
In the 1950’s and early 60’s I spent many days driving between north and south California. That Giant Orange stand in the picture you just posted, was out in the middle of nowhere and it offered fresh squeezed orange juice. We stopped nearly every time! Out there in the middle of central California’s agricultural area it was always hot and dry, and that OJ was wonderful!
One night heading north from LA area we got behind a slow moving truck with canvas over the top. It was twice the size of a pick up and looked like a troop carrier, but the canvas was pulled down on all sides so we couldn’t see inside. It was a narrow road in those days and we were wanting to pass so we got up pretty close behind it. Maybe because our headlights were so bright, one of the men sitting inside the truck raised the the back flap–the one that hung over the back tailgate . The men crammed inside that truck were all Mexican field workers–illegal in those days. The truck turned into the Ronald Reagan ranch that night. This was a long time before he was governor. A few years before Cesar Chavez organized illegal Mexican field workers. Sometimes I think we create our own mess.
NoriFebruary 8, 2021, 11:42 AM
What a historical treasure that bit of film is. Remarkably good quality for 1915.
Just as interesting is the discussion of stonework vs brush;makes you wonder what Michaelangelo’s hands looked like.
Casey:you make a marvelous Monet. Your expression is perfect.
Casey KlahnFebruary 8, 2021, 4:44 PM
Greetings, Nori. Thanks. I see all the flaws but I kind of intended some of them for humor’s sake. Glad you liked that. I need to find that suit and wear it to a costume event.
Lance de BoyleFebruary 8, 2021, 7:45 PM
So, ex-Californian Pete, building on your client’s jib or quip, you are saying that your torso could be third in a footrace, but you would easily win by a …….
That’s right. Nose. Step right up and collect your cigar or coconut.
AnneFebruary 9, 2021, 4:44 PM
The thing I find most disturbing about the original film is that it was filmed in 1915. The first world war began in July 1914 and was well and truly on in the north of France. It seems as if the average Parisian on the street is not yet concerned.
Real World Address for Donations, Mash Notes and Hate Mail
Gerard Van der Leun
1692 MANGROVE AVE
APT 379
Chico, Ca 95926
Green Pants Interior by Klahn
Who Am I? by Carl Sandburg
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I reach my hands and play with pebbles of destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading “Keep Off.”
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive in the universe.
Duty, Beauty, Liberty, Country, Honor, Family, Faith — Plus a few simple easy to follow rules for guys
Men saw the stars at the edge of the sea
They thought great thoughts about liberty
Poets wrote down words that did fit
Writers wrote books
Thinkers thought about it
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
Many’s the road I have walked upon
Many’s the hour between dusk and dawn
Many’s the time
Many’s the mile
I see it all now
Through the eyes of a child
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
[Chorus]
Lost dreams and found dreams
In America
In America
In America
Lost dreams and found dreams
In America
In America
In America
And close your eyes
Leave it all for a while
Leave the world
And your worries behind
You will build on whatever is real
And wake up each day
To a new waking dream
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
[Chorus]
Change, change come over
Change come over
Talkin’ about a change
Change, change
Change come over, now
Change, change, change come over
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I see my light
See my light
See my shining light
I see my light
See my light
See my shining light
Gerard Van der Leun
Comments on this entry are closed.
Casey looks like Monet reincarnated:
https://kaching.tumblr.com/post/641867161602785280/rjtyler-claude-monet-in-his-garden-at-giverny
I actually did some photoshops of my face over Monet and they are pretty damn funny. I’ll send them to Gerard.
The one small film clip they missed was one where Degas is exiting a public toilet in Paris, still zipping up his trousers. Edgar rolled that way.
Rodin gave off a very different vibe from the brush boys.
Summer of 1983 I was 27 years old and it was my first time in Europe. I’d spent a week in London and I took the ferry from Dover to Calais. On the boat I met an American dude whose car was parked at the dock and he agreed to drive me to Paris. It was early in the morning and as we approached Giverny I suggested we visit Monet’s house. We were the only two there when they unlocked the doors. The kitchen was amazing. The room was all in yellow with an enormous black cook stove surrounded in blue tile. A fantastic ancient wood table sart in the middle. I walked up the stairs and entered Monet’s bedroom. Nobody was looking. I sat on his bed. The side I was sitting on faced out towards room length windows that overlooked the garden below. The pond and the Japanese bridge were visible from above. I thought of how many times Monet sat on the edge of that bed… yawning and scratching his head… and thinking about what he would like to paint that day.
Interesting to see the woman on the street recognize Degas and turn to stare.
How long until all their works must be destroyed because rayciss?
Now THAT’S just plain cool!
Kudos to both Gerard and Casey.
Young Casey’s beak is nowhere NEAR the size of the crag, the cape, the peninsula, the duffel bag, the Humvee hanging off’n that fella’s face.
Yes, Lance, but give them all a few more years and maybe I’ll catch up.
How did I know the photoshop was complete? When I busted out laughing.
You cannot help but idolize your master painters and damn if those 19th Century ones didn’t have a ton of gravitas.
Casey, those pics are totally freaking cool. I suppose with a little more photoshop the beard could be stained like it’s nicotine laden, but it’s all good.
Hey Lance-
Better watch what you say about folks with “size XL proboscuses!”
With myself being a man of “exceptional nasal endowment,” I might take offense to your tomfoolery, and whup a mighty nasal blast your way- bending trees and uprooting shrubs!
On a serious note, the funniest thing I ever heard (said to my face) about my snoot was from a client many years ago. When I arrived at her house for a meeting, she said “you’re late!’
I looked at my watch, then her clock on the wall and said “no, I’m on time.”
Then she said “Well, your NOSE was on time, but the rest of you was 2 minutes late.”
The footage of Rodin was amazing. I’ve done a lot of work in stone, and it is hell on the hands. Mine are damn near wrecked from eczema, thin skin, and cramps. (joys of post-middle age) I would add that I worked in alabaster, which is a click or two down the Mohs scale from marble. I seldom had to to use a chisel, or a mallet that heavy. To see him tapping quick like that at eighty some years of age… wow.
But that footage stuck in my head, because I have an unfinished project haunting me like a ghost in the garage. As long as I worked, whether it was doing Celtic graphics, or carving stone, I had two hard rules:
Finish every project, however crappy.
Never start a project before finishing the one you’re working on.
The artistic burn to work is a lot like an addiction. It’s that weird fever that drives you to work like a galley slave for no money, and love every minute of it.
It just went cold in me one morning. I was shaping a curve with the big rasp, and literally stopped mid stroke and stepped away from the table. The piece in Italian crystal was about two thirds done. But something in my head said, “It’s over.” Time and again I went back to the table. Just couldn’t make it go…
Fifteen years later the damn thing has begun staring at me every time I go in to the garage. Worse, the big stone sits in the corner like an unpaid debt. The big stone is a crude, blunt teardrop of Italian crystal that weighs about a hundred and ten pounds. Italian crystal alabaster is pure selenite. In the raw it looks like a chunk of dirty ice. Polished up, it’s almost fiber optic. Put a flashlight on it in a dark room, and the whole stone lights up. tap it, and it rings like a chime. The big stone was going to be my all-timer. Now…
I’m not making any ‘finger-in-the-air’ declarations. No promises, even to myself. But tomorrow my buddy, John is coming over. We’re going to pick up a couple of 4×4’s, and build a new table.
JWM
JWM. It’s all you, man. all you.
It doesn’t matter who likes it; only you know if it’s any good or not. Doesn’t matter – it’s for yourself.
I met a guy in Colorado who has 2 full presses for wrought iron. 6 feet of concrete to base those behemoths. His hands are like feet: think with hammer callouses and I mean inches thick. It’s a cool art and I want to take it up, too. Maybe start with wax.
In the 1950’s and early 60’s I spent many days driving between north and south California. That Giant Orange stand in the picture you just posted, was out in the middle of nowhere and it offered fresh squeezed orange juice. We stopped nearly every time! Out there in the middle of central California’s agricultural area it was always hot and dry, and that OJ was wonderful!
One night heading north from LA area we got behind a slow moving truck with canvas over the top. It was twice the size of a pick up and looked like a troop carrier, but the canvas was pulled down on all sides so we couldn’t see inside. It was a narrow road in those days and we were wanting to pass so we got up pretty close behind it. Maybe because our headlights were so bright, one of the men sitting inside the truck raised the the back flap–the one that hung over the back tailgate . The men crammed inside that truck were all Mexican field workers–illegal in those days. The truck turned into the Ronald Reagan ranch that night. This was a long time before he was governor. A few years before Cesar Chavez organized illegal Mexican field workers. Sometimes I think we create our own mess.
What a historical treasure that bit of film is. Remarkably good quality for 1915.
Just as interesting is the discussion of stonework vs brush;makes you wonder what Michaelangelo’s hands looked like.
Casey:you make a marvelous Monet. Your expression is perfect.
Greetings, Nori. Thanks. I see all the flaws but I kind of intended some of them for humor’s sake. Glad you liked that. I need to find that suit and wear it to a costume event.
So, ex-Californian Pete, building on your client’s jib or quip, you are saying that your torso could be third in a footrace, but you would easily win by a …….
That’s right. Nose. Step right up and collect your cigar or coconut.
The thing I find most disturbing about the original film is that it was filmed in 1915. The first world war began in July 1914 and was well and truly on in the north of France. It seems as if the average Parisian on the street is not yet concerned.