Three things from DAH. Free every Friday! Except this one's coming to you on Thursday because I'll be in a car early on Friday morning. 
You can subscribe and browse past issues HERE

DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. "Artists create records of transitory moments, appearing to stop their clocks" (Patrick Bringley, All the Beauty in the World, 2023).

First up this week: Forgather … 

It might have been Mum, or maybe just me. In either case, I was encouraged to forgather from an early age. Outside play with the neighbor kids, or team sports (pick-up, school, league), or performing arts: I wasn't ever a loner. I read lots of books at once, not just one. My collections were multiple and a bit unfocused. Forgathering in community was and is important, essential. Alone-time is important, but I regard it as preparation and recharging to support forgathering. Life feels so fleeting. I want to be sure and spend its currency wisely, with you. And with my too much stuff, forgathered for my many enthusiasms.
 
Second up this week, Formative …
We enjoyed two live theatricals last weekend. As the overture music began for one, emotional memories were triggered. I acknowledged the show (not this specific production) as one of my key performing arts formative experiences. I quickly identified a formative trio that molded my theatrical taste:

I realize that the "chamber musical" style of these three is the kernal at the core of my preferred performance impulses. I'm imagining a rather nice mash-up of my three formatives on stage …  

Third up this week, Frolic …
And wouldn't that be a frolic? Naughty Frank-N-Furter tried for breach of promise, with equally-naughty Desiree Armfeldt as the plaintiff. Sung through (no spoken dialogue), but with a little dancing (Time Warp!) and a happy ending, of course … all in about 45 minutes! Perfection! Merriam-Webster defines the noun "frolic" thusly: "a playful, sportive, or gaily mischievous action : a good time." Even works heavy in drama may end in a frolic. Think of the dance that ended Elizabethan plays: All performers rise -- from death or tragedy or whatever -- for a merry dance to reassure the audience. I've got frolic and farce on my mind as I contemplate new playmaking efforts. 

A book about the power of art … 
All the Beauty in the World, by Patrick Bringley. 
Bringley's memoir about a needed life change, from events management at The New Yorker to a decade of guard duty at New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art. From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, by E. L. Konigsburg, was a formative book for me as a child (two youngsters run away to live hidden in the Metropolitan Museum of Art). An NPR review of Bringley's new book makes the Konigsburg connection, too, and closes with this: "All the Beauty in the World reminds us of the importance of learning not "about art, but from it." This is art appreciation at a profound level." 

And a bit more: 

How to Look at Pictures, by Rebecca Morgan Frank

Refuse to make eye contact with the subject.
He has been following you around the gallery.
You are certain that he can see down your shirt.
Look at other subjects, but know that they, too,
are not of primary interest. Even when they watch
you. Try not to consider what happened
to the small girl staring furiously, the thin-faced
woman wanly looking away. Do not think about
what they had for breakfast, if the bread was hard.
Certainly do not consider the odors underneath
their arms and skirts. Do not allow a breeze into
the room they sit in. Do not assume I am talking
about any painting: step away from the subject.
All subject. Was the painter in love? Do not ask
the question. Imagine you are the painter,
blocking out everything you don’t want to see.
Everything is out of the picture. Stop looking.
Stop seeking what isn’t there. Tuck your narratives
back in your pocket. Look for perspective, light,
shade. Let your eyes wander back to the girl.
She is trying to say something but her mouth
has been painted deliberately shut. Her lips, thin.


And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's Sometimes

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.