Sunset, Saturday, 13 February 2010

Stony Point, Albemarle County, Va. Oil on Arches watercolor block, 16 x 20.

Funny, as soon as I started to write this I thought of the old hymn “Work, For The Night Is Coming,” which my grandmother used to sing at her piano and we would sing with her. But to work while seeing the sun set can bring a sense of contemplation to the process. I think of times, both during this series and otherwise, when I’d have to be out on a back road somewhere cutting firewood at sunset. If I was painting sunsets, of course I’d have to watch while I was working. But even if I wasn’t about to paint, the picture of time passing, of day falling into night, brought all kinds of feelings to what I was doing. Sometimes it might be something close to self-pity that I was out getting wood just before dark – as if I were the peasant in “Good King Wenceslas” when I’d rather be the king. (I seem to be related to all three characters in that song.) But mostly it was some variation on the contemplation of the stark deep beauty of the world, mixing in a strange way with the tasks of cutting and splitting wood. As if, as I watched the sky, with my every movement, there was a movement of the heart.

Sunset, Wednesday, 27 January 2010

William Theodore Van Doren. Sunset from Stony Point, Albemarle County, Va. Oil on watercolor block, 16 x 20.

I don’t quite feel that I can, so I’ll let Prince:

Put the right letters together
And make a better day.

Sunset, Tuesday, 12 January 2010

William Theodore Van Doren. Sunset from Stony Point, Albemarle County, Va. Oil on watercolor block, 16 x 20.

At an intersection today when a massive bassline erupted from a car behind me. I think everyone had their windows up (35°F), so it wasn’t at any sort of pain threshold, but it was all the more impressive for that reason. It was a deep rolling subterranean temblor that traveled right up your brainstem and out your follicles. It was a bass that could style your hair.

I had just been listening to Robert Johnson and wondered what Bob would think if he were at the crossroads and heard this. But now on another channel I had Conway Twitty singing “It’s Only Make Believe,” and at times the oncoming waves of bass broke perfectly underneath the lines of the song. I have to tell you: It was fantastic. “It’s Only Make Believe” with a huge bassline could be something truly awesomely fine.

Sunset, Tuesday, 15 December 2009

William Theodore Van Doren. Painted at Stony Point, Albemarle County, Va. Oil on watercolor block, 16 x 20.

Thanks to J. Tillman, who I heard for the first time today, I also heard, for the first time, “My Proud Mountains” by Townes Van Zandt, from a tribute album by mostly newer artists called Introducing Townes Van Zandt Via The Great Unknown. The following may seem a little morbid, especially considering the course TVZ’s life took, but ... anyway ... by way of burial instructions, the song says, lay him down easy –

with only my mountains between me and the sun

Sunset, Sunday, 13 December 2009

William Theodore Van Doren. Painted at Stony Point, Albemarle County, Va. Oil on watercolor block, 16 x 20.

Mist and fog everywhere at sunset, after heavy rains.

I’m a fan of small mountains – perhaps because I like to imagine living within the world they create, a varied but accessible landscape. My favorite small mountain, I’ve finally just learned, in Madison County, Virginia, is named Thorofare. (Not the much higher and larger Thorofare Mountain up on the Blue Ridge and also, as it happens, in Madison.) The sight of it from Route 29 – I think if I lived with that as my view I might not be able to stop painting it. And having said this much, I guess I now owe you at least a sketch, as soon as I can get back there.

The other day on my trip up to Great Falls, I was passing near Thorofare Mountain while the radio was playing something I ordinarily find dull – and I even felt that way when I was 12 and it was #1 – Connie Francis, “Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool.” This time it struck me in a new way, and made me think about how the original emotional meaning of a song can become transposed, over the years, from personal romance to something much bigger. I realized, looking at the mountain, what a fool somebody can be for this world.

Sunset, Friday, 11 December 2009

William Theodore Van Doren. Painted at Stony Point, Albemarle County, Va. Oil on watercolor block, 16 x 20.

Not to get things totally confused – only just a little confused – the following refers to the song titled, depending on where you look, “Have I Told You Lately” and “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You,” written by Van Morrison. The former title helps distinguish Morrison’s 1989 song from the 1945 standard (“Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?”), which it resembles in outward form although not so much in essence.

In addition, the version that inspired me to write is the one Morrison does with The Chieftains, a performance with a lot less orchestral decor than the better-known record.

There’s a love that’s divine
And it‘s yours and it’s mine
And it shines like the sun
At the end of the day
We shall give thanks and pray to the one

I’m not sure if Van means “the one,” “the One” or “The One,” but – it’s all the same to me.

Where the song really kills comes right after this. Just like the old standard, the song opens with the title line, “Have I told you lately that I love you?” – in the usual from-me-to-you format. But at the end of this verse Morrison adds two words – barely noticeable, just there if you want to notice them – that connect back to, and transform, the title.

. . . At the end of the day
We shall give thanks and pray to the one
And say
Have I told you lately that I love you?