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In the horse-trade of life
free will is like free lunches
that’s why I would never be a dentist;
imagine probing all those free lunch cavities.
A horse doctor might be different
-you’d still have to look the gift horse in the mouth though-
as you dream of unicorns
but you could laugh about it;
snort, whinny even.
An amazing show: Cavalia’s Odysseo. My snaps don’t do it justice- they do look better in sepia though. Photography is not allowed (yes, person with the annoying flash) during the show, but we could take some snaps in the stables afterwards. The horses were tired after their intense work-out and more interested in their food by then- lots of heads in buckets and in straw. So many different breeds: Appaloosa, Arabian, Ardennais, Belgian, Canadian (“the little iron horse”), Comtois, Criollo, Lippizan, Lusitano, Oldenberg, Paint, Percheron, Quarter horse, Spanish purebred, Warmblood. Only a few stallions (about 7?) and the rest all geldings, with more than 60 horses in the show. Apparently it is very hard to train the stallions; they want to fight all the time. And there are no mares!
I enjoyed the human acrobatics. How fit these people must be.
I am still working on my horse portraits.
Horses I have known
Laika, moonsister, silver filly, gifthorse I did not get
be the girl grandchild instead
here’s Tombola, meanest red-eyed rooster ever spawned on the African soil
Granma will protect him
Granma will soon pass
Granpa will slaughter him
and marry again
Tinkerbell, vicious pony:
good for playing Touches, little biter, little kicker
your only interest on the outride is returning home
fighting all the way we go
glue-cling all the way back
Lesotho Numba One, poor nag
remembered for your girth galls
(and that mole-backed liar lover)
eclipsed by him who trotted on human feet in sympathy
light of my loss
Morgan, dustcoat Morgan
who neighed and bucked
you almost broke my back
rearing at that paper bag
Talitha, urine medicine maker
your foal: dog food
I never rode again
I still like the music
Horses always make me think of the painting Guernica. I like what Picasso said:
…this bull is a bull and this horse is a horse… If you give a meaning to certain things in my paintings it may be very true, but it is not my idea to give this meaning. What ideas and conclusions you have got I obtained too, but instinctively, unconsciously. I make the painting for the painting. I paint the objects for what they are. (from Wikipedia article)Red Clay Oxen
Monday arrives like a gift horse
you bravely look it in the teeth of course
Horses, beautiful horses! I have to get going on a quintetto (neigh, they don’t sing) of Arabians, long overdue. I have met them, even ridden one, and the paint must now be splattered! I will surround myself with facsimiles of their equine grace, all the time wishing myself to also be in warmer clime.
In keeping with all things horse: I recently saw War Horse, brought to stage under the direction of Nicholas Hytner and Nick Starr. A most splendid production, with amazing puppetry. The play is based on the novel by Michael Morpugo, adapted by Nick Stafford and the puppet wizardy brought forth by Handspring Puppet Company. It is a National Theatre of Great Britain production, but I saw it in Toronto.
The story was inspired by the fate of horses used in World War One, where about eight million of them perished. Toronto supplied 18, of which only one, by the name of Bunny, survived the first poison gas attack of the war.
WarHorse is about sixteen year old Albert’s hunter, originally trained to plough on the farm, and sold by his father to the army for a hundred pounds. It is a powerfully sad anthem for peace. (Do read the related articles below.)
- Theater review: Award-winning “War Horse” arrives in Denver, elaborate puppets and all (denverpost.com)
- ‘War Horse’ production is a highly theatrical drama (triblive.com)
- Creating a ‘War Horse’ (triblive.com)
- War Horse by Michael Morpurgo (Audio) (boxesofpaper.com)