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.
It’s interesting, because a visual representation of a place, especially more abstract ones as here, are as much about feel as anything else, I think. (Or that is so for me, in any case.). I grew up between Mt Tam and the sea, or rather between the sea and Mt Tam, as it was the mountain - ”the hill” that was the mapline between ”here” and the rest of the world. I saw the mountain every day, and of course also went over it or around it occasion. So it was a big part of my childhood….
These images, on the tiny screen of my phone, didn’t match my memories, sense of place, the feel, so to speak.
So my original comment was just musings on how experiences can vary. But then I happened to enlarge one of the images on the tiny screen and realized that it had evoked a different feel, so will need to see them on a larger screen.
But I suspect, too, that these are the images of someone seeing Mt Tam from the other side (literally) of my daily view, and that that probably makes a large difference as well.
Yes, this was great, thanks. On a larger screen one can see the shifts in perspective: that what in an inch or two looks like the mountain seen from below, with sky behind, is actually the side of the mountain that one sees from the road as one comes down from the top and descends towards the sea. It's a very special place, and on the larger screen some of these capture some of my own feel of it too. Thanks for sharing, and for the article!
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.
Bonnie! I love thinking of you and your tree, speaking with one another over years. & also thinking of you and your many splendid notebooks.
Fascinating introduction to Etel Adnan. Thank you!
You’re welcome, Lucy. I’m glad you enjoyed it.
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."
I love that line too, Samantha!
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’m glad to think of you looking at that same mountain & am very curious what your experience with it has been!
It’s interesting, because a visual representation of a place, especially more abstract ones as here, are as much about feel as anything else, I think. (Or that is so for me, in any case.). I grew up between Mt Tam and the sea, or rather between the sea and Mt Tam, as it was the mountain - ”the hill” that was the mapline between ”here” and the rest of the world. I saw the mountain every day, and of course also went over it or around it occasion. So it was a big part of my childhood….
These images, on the tiny screen of my phone, didn’t match my memories, sense of place, the feel, so to speak.
So my original comment was just musings on how experiences can vary. But then I happened to enlarge one of the images on the tiny screen and realized that it had evoked a different feel, so will need to see them on a larger screen.
But I suspect, too, that these are the images of someone seeing Mt Tam from the other side (literally) of my daily view, and that that probably makes a large difference as well.
(Literally the other side, but possibly figuratively as well…)
You might be interested to see the paintings - abstract in a quite different way: https://www.contemporaryartlibrary.org/project/etel-adnan-at-callicoon-fine-arts-new-york-7388
Oh, thank you! It’s still a tiny screen that I have at hand. Will look properly tomorrow on a larger one.
Yes, this was great, thanks. On a larger screen one can see the shifts in perspective: that what in an inch or two looks like the mountain seen from below, with sky behind, is actually the side of the mountain that one sees from the road as one comes down from the top and descends towards the sea. It's a very special place, and on the larger screen some of these capture some of my own feel of it too. Thanks for sharing, and for the article!
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!
Very glad you enjoyed it, Katya.