THE SIGNAL from David Katznelson
"To see the world in a grain of sand, and to see heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hands, and eternity in an hour."-William Blake
One of my great awakenings in college was to William Blake. I had originally learned about him in High School as taught to me by Flossy Lewis, the teacher who gave me the love of poetry. But it was in college that I learned more about the crazy side of Blake. He was a true outsider artist in his day, with poetry that went against the grain of the day’s puritanical thinking and illustrations of contorted humans/beasts that verged on Satanic (in some people’s opinions). He was known for his crazed dress yet would show up to garden parties naked…that is a specific detail that has stayed with me: he was a true freaky hippy of his time, and I say that in the most positive of ways. At his death, he only had a small group of followers who thought the work he did had any merit.
Centuries later, he is a fixture on any class syllabus regarding poetry. He is now thought of as one of the great poets, philosophers, commentators and illustrators of his generation. Blake’s poetry has been woven into our culture, often quoted by journalists, often reproduced (with his now-celebrated illustrations) by fine book printers like The Folio Society. Like the Velvet Underground (this is where my college mind went) his initial releases sold such small quantities, only to become revered many years later. Tomorrow marks the 267th anniversary of his birth, a good excuse to dive into Blake’s work and swim in his mighty version of a mid-1700s hippie ideology.
On the day of his birth (tomorrow) Blakefest 2020 opens its online celebration of the poet. The few pieces it is currently showcasing are great appetizers as to what looks to be a fantastic exhibit…
Bang & Olufsen, Lowther And LEAK Join Forces To Recreate Jimi Hendrix’s Original Sound System
Today is Jimi Hendrix’s birthday, and Forbes celebrated with this article about how Hendrix’s home sound system is being recreated in his apartment-turned-museum. I never knew that Hendrix lived in the same place that composer George Frideric Handel had lived in, and the residence is now the home of the Handel & Hendrix museum. It makes sense that Hendrix had a killer stereo…and that he liked to listen to music loudly.
On a total side note, I did not realize it was Hendrix’s birthday until this morning. Last night, after midnight, I purchased an original French Mono pressing of ARE YOU EXPERIENCED. Finding a nice copy that isn’t hundreds of dollars in a rare thing: it is supposedly the best pressing of the album, while also sporting an alternative cover. I have been looking for an affordable, sweet copy for a while and mystically found it on the day of his birth.
Our Great Reckoning: Eileen Crist On The Consequences Of Human Plunder
Here is another incredible interview from the Sun Magazine. Every month The Sun publishes these kind of interviews with individuals who are truly making the world a better place, as well as publishing other incredible stories, articles and poetry…and it comes dressed in a cover of a beautiful black and white photograph. Without adds, The Sun survives from subscriptions. It is a national treasure…and Sy Safransky, its founder and still head, is awe-inspiring; it deserves to be on everyones holiday gift list.
And Thus We Existed: The Incomparable Glenn Brown
Make sure you don’t get so lost in Brown’s art that you cannot find your way home.
Below is William Blakes’ most famous poem, The Tyger. I almost took another selection for today’s newsletter, since this one is so well known already. But after reading some of it aloud with my daughter, its power and enlightenment re-emerged and demanded to be shared.
THE TYGER
by William Blake
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
