Dear Friends, What happens when we look and then look again, daily, weekly, monthly for years, for a lifetime? The painter and poet Etel Adnan fell in with a mountain, Mount Tamalpais on the coast of California north of San Francisco. For many years she lived in a place where she could see the mountain every day, and she frequently visited in order to know its trees and trails more intimately. Later, she returned to the mountain in memory and imagination, painting it over and over again. She once described it as the most important person she knew.
I feel so happy and moved, reading this tiny essay about Etel Adnan and hearing the video of Adnan discussing how she came to be a painter. I realize, too, that a tree outside my window here in Brooklyn has chosen me, and I have been witnessing her for many years, often taking notes. Thank you, Sal Randolph, for this exquisite meditation and also instruction. I love any assignment that begins, "Get a new notebook." And I love how reading your Substack both centers me and fills me with joy.
Thank you @Sal Randolph for introducing me to this wonderful artist and writer Etal Adnan. These words of hers land true: "O impermanence! What a lovely word and a sad feeling. What a fight with termination, with lives that fall into death like cliffs."
Thanks for this! Posted a long comment here, based on my own experience looking at the same mountain, and then realized that I had read this fascinating article on my phone, and therefore wasn’t really seeing the images as they are when they are larger. So have deleted the comment, and will just say that I enjoyed the piece and the introduction to Etel Adnan’s work very much.
I wonder if this makes it sound as though the mountain had not been mythical back then — as it had been simply a prosaic part of the geography? Just to say, no, not at all… Etel Adnan’s texts come close to the feel of my own memories…
I feel so happy and moved, reading this tiny essay about Etel Adnan and hearing the video of Adnan discussing how she came to be a painter. I realize, too, that a tree outside my window here in Brooklyn has chosen me, and I have been witnessing her for many years, often taking notes. Thank you, Sal Randolph, for this exquisite meditation and also instruction. I love any assignment that begins, "Get a new notebook." And I love how reading your Substack both centers me and fills me with joy.
Fascinating introduction to Etel Adnan. Thank you!
Thank you @Sal Randolph for introducing me to this wonderful artist and writer Etal Adnan. These words of hers land true: "O impermanence! What a lovely word and a sad feeling. What a fight with termination, with lives that fall into death like cliffs."
Thanks for this! Posted a long comment here, based on my own experience looking at the same mountain, and then realized that I had read this fascinating article on my phone, and therefore wasn’t really seeing the images as they are when they are larger. So have deleted the comment, and will just say that I enjoyed the piece and the introduction to Etel Adnan’s work very much.
(Literally the other side, but possibly figuratively as well…)
I wonder if this makes it sound as though the mountain had not been mythical back then — as it had been simply a prosaic part of the geography? Just to say, no, not at all… Etel Adnan’s texts come close to the feel of my own memories…
I’m glad it felt right to you!
Wonderful. Thanks for this!