‘IN THE CORNER’/acrylic/gunther
August 5, 2019
By Arthur H. Gunther III
thecolumnrule.com
No one should be pushed into a corner — by anyone or even yourself — because that is not the place to make the best decisions. Instead, corners should be of welcome and mystery, of imagination and whimsey, of curiosity and adventure. And not only for children playing games.
Maybe that is why corners should have cabinets. Open the door and. ….
The writer is a retired newspaperman. ahgunther@yahoo.com
‘TWO WOMEN’/ACRYLIC/GUNTHER
July 29, 2019
By Arthur H. Gunther III
(also on Facebook)
These two women are in Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello home. One is white, prosperous. One is black, African-American, a slave. Presumably, they speak to one another.
They are at the dawn of a new age, this political, social, economic, human experiment called the American republic, in which “all men are created equal.”
But not blacks, still slaves. Not women. Not Indians, Native Americans, increasingly dispossessed of their ancient lands in the continuing march of “progress” and manifest destiny. Not the coming waves of immigrants, from whom most of us descend. Not the elderly. Not the addicted.
The women at the window in 1800 see beyond the Virginia landscape toward a frontier hardly begun. If they were seers, they would also see violence, bloodshed, prejudice, crooked politicians in special interest, human abuse even as the ever-proud, ever-changing flag of a new, emerging nation goes forth, held high, but just for some.
They know, these two women then of unequal standing, but each unequal to men, that there is already proclaimed justification for the ceaseless frontier and its mistakes as well as its achievements, in the very language of the revolutionary men who by the skin of their teeth won independence. “Toward a more perfect union,” the Preamble to the Constitution reads. There is no second line: “Yet progress must not be so rapid that people are bulldozed aside.”
The women who stand at this Jefferson window, in the home of the brilliant man who employed his mastery at writing to set the nation’s mission statement but who was also a slaveholder and flawed as leaders are, these women of the nurturing sex in 1800 are in place today, challenging an incomplete march to achieve equality, not only for females but for men, for all races, for the poor, for the forgotten middle class, for immigrants, for the sick and the infirm, for those shoved aside one way or another.
They will not long remain at the window of 2019 and beyond. They will go forth and become the masters of the American republic’s true manifest destiny. Their time has come.
The writer is a retired newspaperman. ahgunther@yahoo.com, Facebook Messenger.
‘SARAH’/acrylic/gunther
July 22, 2019
By Arthur H. Gunther III
(also on Facebook)
This is Sarah, but it could be you. She could anyone — of any sex, age, ethnicity, race, belief. Sarah is alone, but not alone. She is with her thoughts, her “me time,” in her space beyond a door.
There is no competition for her moment alone, no distractions, no need for a lock on the door. No paintings on the wall to detour her imagination. Sarah simply can be with herself — in neutral while the rest of her world is in gear.
She comes to her room often, even when she is away, for it also exists in her mind, a necessary refuge, when necessary.
The writer is a retired newspaperman, ahgunther@yahoo.com, Facebook Messenger.
‘Detail at South Truro’/gunther
By Arthur H. Gunther III
(also on Facebook)
There is music in this old house, though there is no electricity — disconnected decades ago. There is no radio, no record player, no iTunes. In fact, there are no people.
But once, even before electricity, there was much music. Fiddles, banjos, carved wooden sticks offering the cadence of Irish/Scot heritage but in a new land. So, added notes.
And there was the music of children, the best sounds in any home. And the whistling of the father as he whittled, a respite from the long day’s hard work. The women had their tunes, taught by mothers whose mothers taught them — music with a survival rhythm, deep graciousness, and reference to the glory of the Kingdom and what follows lifelong nurturing, endurance.
The house is empty now for it is no longer a home. Yet the music that helped make it so echoes and echoes and echoes..
The writer is a retired newspaperman. ahgunther@yahoo.com, Facebook messenger.
Gunther painting/acrylic on canvas
July 9, 2019
By Arthur H. Gunther III
(also on Facebook)
Open a window, and you might get fresh air. Or fresh perspective. Depends on what’s out there, what you see, what you want to see.
The window frames a scene, and you are in control because you can shut the glass. Or you can open it more and almost jump into the scene.
You can look out, daydream of people, things, events past, how there has been change, think about what is ahead.
Some days you are brave enough, adventurous enough, inquisitive enough to open the window. Other times, even the curtain is not parted.
Yet to have the choice, to have a window that you can open, might be the best way to start the day. You can paint your own picture.
The writer is a retired newspaperman, ahgunther@yahoo.com, Facebook Messenger