Hunting the Moon

DIANA

Hunting the Moon, Digital Photograph, Sutro Park, San Francisco, 2004, DWFLarson

Amigos Caliente!

John & Scott

John and Scott are our dear friends from New York City. We came to know this rambunctious pair as we stood in line waiting to be married in San Francisco. Two days and about seventeen hours later, withstanding pouring rain and icy wind, we were all four wed and registered to our prospective partner, February 16, 2004, beneath the great rotunda of San Francisco City Hall, a beautiful Beaux Arts building, its dome newly gilded and soaring into the sky of The City. This elegant structure has stood since it replaced the original building lost in the Great Earthquake of 1917. John and Scott were our finest troopers - always keeping the conversation filled with laughter and constantly renewing our hope that we would indeed be married. We were within four couples of the door on the fifteenth when it was announced that the doors would close to any further applications that day. It was heart wrenching as you can imagine. We vowed to each other, and to several other couples we shared the line with, that we would be back the next day. I think it was that promise to others to face another day of storms together which got mark and I out of our lovely warm bed and downtown, before sunrise, that unbelievable Tuesday. All through the day we kept each others spirits up, taking restroom treks three blocks to a very considerate cafe, two at a time while the others saved our place. It did indeed prove successful - we proudly made it into the gallery of the rotunda and upon the steps we all were wed. John and Scott have a pair of adorable Chihuahuas, Zza Zza and Gomez. John is a celebrity dentist and Scott has a notable psychology practice, both in Manhattan; not to mention a lovely doorman building in the Village! We see them both far to seldom, but when we do get together it's as if we've just seen them yesterday. Cocktails anyone? Oh, yeah!

Les ébénistes

The Making of an Eighteenth Century French Writing Table

After the selection of first and secondary woods for the construction of the desk the wood is blocked into rough forms, which form the basic rough assemblage. This is shown in the following photographs. The leg and carcass pieces will be cut, carved and assembled from these hefty blocks. They are then clearly the desk form in whichonstructed into the fine unadorned understructure of you are now able to clearly see the sillouette of the piece.

Eighteenth century French furniture has several attributes, which make it technically superb. The first is a painstaking attention to exactness. All the individual pieces are carefully matched for quality and symmetry. This attention belies the fact that the work is hand done. The second is a superb technical skill, modern and sophisticated even by our contemporary standards. Many pieces were constructed to serve multiple purposes. The mechanical workings of the furniture may include hidden drawers with springs, double table tops or ‘invalid tables’ allowing the first top, complete with short legs, to be lifted off and used as a bed tray, combination writing and toilette tables which exposed either a leather writing surface or a pop-up vanity mirror with spring loaded drawers custom fitted with matched necessities in porcelain, cut crystal, silver and/or silver-gilt, writing tables which hid gaming compartments and the pieces for chess, backgammon or cards and those with overlapping sliding tops (as exemplified in this table which has a pull out leather inset for writing when in use as a desk, but which hidden away shows the beautiful marquetry top and may then be used as a tea table.

This type of quality was not accomplished without sacrifice. France worked with its various trades in Guilds. Each Guild oversaw one aspect of the various different construction techniques of a typical piece of furniture. Therefore, the base construction and design were delegated to one craftsman’s shop, the marquetry veneers to another, the porcelain insets and gilt bronze mounts to yet others; each master concentrating on his one craft and producing that individual piece with great pride to the highest possible degree of perfection. There were of course distinctions in quality, pieces destined for the king and queen and court had significantly greater detail than those designed for the home of a well to do bourgeoisie merchant. Yet, even with these variants of class quality remained a primary tenant. It is testament to this quality that this furniture is every bit as sought after today as it was when it first reached the somewhat.

The marchand –merciers were the dealers and somewhat the equivalent of today’s interior design firms. These savvy style makers helped promote luxury goods and were responsible for innovations, such as Chinese porcelain mounted in gilt bronze and the exquisite toiletry sets which made there way into the dressing tables of the upper classes.

But back to our small table. Once the basic form of the table is finished and assembled the marquetry, in this case, is applied. The veneers were made from collections of very fine, rare and precious woods with beautiful grains and colors. Inventories of these thin sheets of costly woods were hoarded as if they were treasuries and the records of the craftsmen’s shops listed the wood types and the exorbitant costs involved.The design once settled upon was drawn as a cartoon and from that the individually shaped pieces of veneer which were then stained, coloured and burnt with hot sand (to emulate the depth of shadows for a trompe l’oeil effect.) Following the staining these small pieces were attached to the base wood individually, and were weighted or sandbagged (bags of sand tied around the awkward shape of a leg for example) holding the veneer to the shape of wood to which it was applied as the glues dried. Once all the pieces were applied the many layers of thin finish, hand applied shellac, were built up to a glossy high sheen which we know as a ‘French Polish”.

The final step was the joining of the bronzes, gilt bronzes or ormolu mounts. These pieces designed, produced and provided by a separate Guild are certainly a familiar trademark of French furniture. No other country ever achieved the magnificent pefection of the French Guilds. The mounts were executed from cartoons and then generally rendered in the lost wax method. If the furniture was not executed on commission the bronzes were generally not gilded until a client purchased the piece from inventory, requesting the costly process.

This very brief description of the production of this desk is wholly inadequate. It is, perhaps, enough to garner a very slight overview of the methods and practices of the great French ébénistes, but certainly does them little real justice. It has hopefully wet your appetite. I recommend reading all the texts you can to fully understand this complex artisan society and the complexity of the craftsmanship. Despite the Guilds there were many artisans who made a living outside the lawful framework and still produced some amazing pieces. Additionally, this short article describes the work of only the Parisian high-end makers and does not allow you any understanding of the many exciting variances of the regional provincial makers using local woods, motifs and techniques. These country French pieces are as highly sought after today as their city cousins. Go explore!

A very fine text is produced by the J. Paul Getty Foundation. It is
'French furniture Makers, The Art of the Ebéniste from Louis XIV to the Révolution',
authored by Alexandre Pradere. Expensive and worth every ‘livres’!

Antinous! Antinous!

Antinous

Stretched on a sunny bank he lay at rest,
Ferns at his elbow, lilies round his knees,
With sweet flesh patterned where the cool turf pressed,
Flowerlike crept o'er with emerald aphides.
Single he couched there, to his circling flocks
Piping at times some happy shepherd's tune,
Nude, with the warm wind in his golden locks,
And arched with the blue Asian afternoon.
Past him, gorse-purpled, to the distant coast
Rolled the clear foothills. There his white-walled town,
There, a blue band, the placid Euxine lay.
Beyond, on fields of azure light embossed
He watched from noon till dewy eve came down
The summer clouds pile up and fade away

Alan Seger

The Sewing Circle

Sean and Patrick

West Hollywood is famous for the gorgeous men, most of them with the bodies of Greek gods, and it's a pretty darn good entertainment to watch them wander by. Mark and I accomplish our oogling by having iced tea at The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf several times a week. It is inexpensive and the atmosphere is pleasant; small tables beneath the trees along Santa Monica Boulevard provide dappled shade and, as mentioned, the parade of handsome gay men!. Our hot summer days are tolerable with this small indulgence.

Mark

We've also managed to meet some really great guys who also frequent the shop, and we congregate around a table and talk of everything: our sex lives, the movies, our pets, haircuts, cars and of course the helpless passerby who's had the poor judgement to stray within our target range wearing some god-awful outfit, which we proceed to verbally shred. (Out of hearing range!)





Richard (to the right)

Kidding aside, it's been a blessing to meet new people and begin friendships which I hope will be long-lasting. It's a marvelous feeling to enjoy the company of these erudite, self-effacing men who always have a bit of humor to share no matter what's gone awry in their lives. It helps me, at least, to stop worrying for a few minutes about the bullshit and just relax and have a laugh.

So, if you're in the neighborhood, dress chicly and stop by for a glass of tea and bit of gossip.

Donnie and Mark

Your i-God

Mark Morford has to be the best of the 'say-it-like-it-is' liberal opinion writers in the country, umm, WORLD. I don't think I've read a single one of his columns which didn't emulate every visceral emotion that I've had regarding the odious and puritanical Religious Right, the dishonest and war-mongering Bush Administration and the incredible anti-everything-sex attitude of Neo-Con Middle-America. I usually laugh out loud or stand up and cheer or e-mail his column to everyone who has an IQ (far fewer of them as they dumb down America) and has refused to lie down in the dirt and be kicked black and blue by the noxious Republican quagmire mentality which has swept like a wildfire through America. So, for your amusement and a sense that the Fundies are not in control of everything, just click on the title of this blog and read his latest dead-on right (oops! LEFT) take of our U.S.A., the least free country in the Free World! BRAVO, MARK!

The Black Grap Hook

Ganymede & Zeus, French, Neoclassical painted wall panel, circa 1790, detail, The Getty Museum

Ganymede was an extraordinarily beautiful young man when the great God, Zeus, gazed on him that first time. Ganymede, the beloved son of the king of Troy was herding sheep for his father upon the slopes of Mount Ida, for he was earnest and attentive. Zeus, swiftly engorged with lust for the youth, swept down from the heavens in the semblance of a splendid eagle and with a mighty whirr and scattering of sleek ebony feathers sweetly grasped Ganymede in bitter talons, piercing the youth, but gently, with their thick dulcette prick. Zeus, his prize now clutched to his downy breast, whispered sweet promises to Ganymede of bearing the wine of God in a gilded kylix, yet all the while in their dizzying ascent pressed ever closer into the youth's sweet lithe flesh until bright red droplets of his life's fountainhead stained the underbelly of the God and mingled with the viscous ambrosia of Zeus. Not e're after, but for indeed a goodly time, Ganymede bore the cup of his doting Lord, Zeus, until Hera with covetous womanly wyles caused Ganymede's banishment to the heaven's, requiring Zeus to sequester him in the constellation Aquarius for eternity. Retold by D.W.F.Larson

Rotting Pomegranates

Satyr Amongst the Naiads, French School, 17th century

There is a ripe and heavily scented sadness, which permeates all of life. It is not the fear of death, or the consequences of having lived, well or otherwise, but rather the longing of the soul’s search which leads to the discovery of oneself, possibly having been in vain. The absence of self. A nightmare from which one is never to be awakened. The seeking for the meaning of life: the Golden Fleece, the laurel crown, the collection of knowledge, a knowledge of God, the scramble to love and to be loved, to absorb the events which bring boons and those which bring pain. The highway upon which one travels to acquire knowledge and the ability to use ones mind to refine it, discarding superfluous elements and incorporating treasures all in order to find a way of living which embodies nobility and honor… and yet allowing oneself to have knowledge of those things which contrast with the light and good in order to see, just SEE. If life were a two dimensional work of art in whatever medium, the light is known because one knows how to manipulate the shadows. Ones life is necessarily the same as this canvas or print on paper or even a three dimensionally a sculpture, it all depends on high-lighting the darkness. Without the shadow there is nothing to SEE.

The exploration, however, of the darkness, this absence of light, the negative space, the lull in the music before the crescendo, the illness of ones mind and ones body is without a doubt a perilous journey. To choose the hunt and become aware of the absence of good, of a lack of honor and the abscence of light without doubt allows the temptation of these black, dim, sick, malformed and self destructive entities to grasp at ones protective garments, to pull and slash and shred the genuine protections of the spirit – for while the knowledge achieved grants above all devices an otherwise impossible depth in the appreciation of good and bestows the strongest desire for the beauty and the light of all things; whether the tenor’s high clear note, the artists masterpiece or the glorious soul of another man, this same acquisition challenges the purity of ones own spirit and the ability to love ones body and admire ones own mind without a hovering winged doubt that one has in the end only found that the night gives for a moment rest from the struggle.

Why does one search, how does this travel along these many shadowed paths begin? Is it in childhood the abrupt unchosen awakening of ones sexual being? Is it determined in part by the rigid stringent philosophies of religion, of politics which most often neglect to present themselves with love, understanding and compassion for those of us whom are different, those of us who find ourselves - without choice - to be beyond the expectations of ‘normality’? Absolutely,yes. Yet, as one becomes an adult, one must still make a choice to search for self determination or alternatively unwittingly abide by precepts simply handed down without reason, not with faith but in fear. One must eat of the fruit or wander aimlessly in a garden for which one has no appreciation of its cultivation. One is either sentient as a being or not. The precepts, the beliefs, the faith that one is advised wholeheartedly to follow and obey will hold no value if not deliberately chosen. What value in a choice, in truth is there a choice?, if understanding is absent?

This then will be paradise to me: to leave behind the shadow and the night and live deliciously and profoundly in the light. Heaven will be when the light has so encompassed one that no contrast with the shadow is necessary to See.

Et in Arcadia Ego

O cruel Alexis, carest thou naught for my songs? hast no pity on us? thou wilt be my death at the last. Now even the cattle woo the shade and coolness, now even the green lizards hide in the thorn brakes; and Thestylis is bruising garlic and wild thyme, strong-smelling herbs for the mowers wearied with the fierce heat: but for all my company, as I trace thy footsteps, the copses ring with crickets jarring under the blazing sun. Was it not better to bear Amaryllis with all her sour displeasures and haughty scorns? or Menalcas, though he were dark, though thou wert white? O fair boy, trust not overmuch to colour; creamy privet-blossoms fall, dark hyacinths are gathered. I am scorned of thee, nor dost thou ask what I am, Alexis, how rich in flocks, how abounding in snowy milk. A thousand lambs of mine wander on Sicilian hills: fresh milk fails me not at midsummer nor in the frost. I sing as he was wont when he called his oxen home, Amphion of Dirce in Actaean Aracynthus. Neither am I so foul to view: of late I saw myself on the shore, when the sea stood in windless calm; I will not fear Daphnis in thy judgment, if the mirror cannot lie. Ah that thou wouldst but care to be with me in the rough country, to dwell in low cots, to shoot the deer, or drive a flock of kids to the green mallow bed. With me in the woods together thou shalt copy Pan in singing; Pan first taught to join with wax the row of reeds: Pan is guardian if the sheep and of the shepherds. Nor let it repent thee to run thy tender lip along the reeds: to know this same art that did Amyntas leave undone? I have a pipe joined of seven unequal hemlock-stalks, a gift that Damoetas once gave me, and said as he died: Now hath it thee for second master. Damoetas said it: stupid Amyntas was jealous. Furthermore two fawns, and in a perilous ravine I found them, with skin even yet white-dappled, drain a ewe's udders twice a day; and I keep them for thee. This long time Thestylis begs them to take away from me, and she shall, since our gifts are graceless in thine eyes. Come hither, O fair boy; for thee lo! the Nymphs bring baskets full of lilies; for thee the white Naiad plucks pale violets and poppy heads, and adds the narcissus and the fragrant anise-flower, and entwining them with casia and other sweet-scented herbs, spangles soft hyacinth-posies with yellow marigold. Myself will gather quinces with delicate silvery bloom, and the chestnuts that my Amaryllis loved, and waxen plums withal: this fruit likewise shall have his honour: and you will I pluck, O laurels, and thee, bordering myrtle, since so set you mingle your fragrant sweets. Thou art a country boor, O Corydon! nor does Alexis heed thy gifts: nor if the contest be of gifts may Iollas yield to thee. Alas, alas, what have I brought on my luckless head? I have loosed the tempest on my blossoms, woe's me, and the wild boars on my crystal springs. From whom fliest thou, ah infatuate? Gods likewise have dwelt in the woodland, and Paris of Dardania. Pallas may keep by herself the fortresses that she built: us before all else let the woodland satisfy. The grim lioness pursues the wolf, the wolf in turn the she-goat; the wanton she-goat pursues the flowering cytisus; as Corydon does thee, O Alexis, each drawn by his own delight. See, the bullocks return with the ploughs tilted from the yoke, and the sinking sun doubles the lengthening shadows: yet me love burns; for what bound may be set to love? Ah Corydon, Corydon, what madness has caught thee? thy vine hangs half unpruned on her leaf-laden elm. Nay but rather at least something of all that daily work needs, set thou to weave of osiers or soft rushes: if he disdains thee, thou wilt find another Alexis.

Virgil, Eclogues II, Alexis, translated from the Latin by J.W. McKail, 1934

Decorative Painting

Donald W. F. Larson, 2000
After a door panel, Chateau Vaux le Vicomte, Oil and gold leaf on canvas and wood, 28"x34"

I executed this piece as a 'sample' for my clients to illustrate the type and quality of the work I do.

Deep Blue, Violet Grey and a Blue Rhinoceros

Donald W. F. Larson, Blue Rhinoceros, 2003, oil on canvas
after a woodcut by Albrecht Dureer, 16"x22"

I've been in a deep blue state for three days now. Deep blue usually only lasts one day. The one who has to deal with it more than myself of course is, Mark, poor chap. He does his best to be helpful because he of course wants me to snap out of it quickly, yesterday is not soon enough. But, I don't choose its arrival, just like a Blue Rhinoceros bulldozes in and who is going to stop him at forty tons? Nor do I choose when the deep blue leaves. Rhino sets his own departure time, too. What I do do is keep to my routine, however much I don't want to do so, because it keeps me from the next stage which is black. Jet black. When the deep blue becomes this horrible it's difficult to cope. I feel as though I do all within my means to prevent the visits. I see my doctors, take the prescribed medicines, I exercise three time weekly at least, I have changed my diet - lost eighty pounds over the last year and a half - and am actually building muscles. It seem like I should be gung-ho, just like Rhino, for all the good things that have happened. And more and more I am, the deep blue comes twice a month or so now, not three or four or five. That's a help, but overall the blueness is present constantly. But, even when we're not deep blue we're almost always a shade of grey, with tinges of violet. I haven't seen a spring green morning or a daffodil yellow day for as long as I can remember. Not the sight of a Loved One or the contemplation of Art or Design, or Nature. Not even Gilt Bronze lures me with pleasure! It's fucked, just fucked. Yet, I'm heading out of deep blue and into violet gray, at this moment, or I wouldn't even have had the drive to type this ridiculous self-absorbed babble. Maybe tomorrow it'll be a silvery grey! Here's to hope. In the meantime my friend Blue Rhinoceros will keep me company for a little time.

Separation of Church and State

Bill Frist has apparently agreed publicly with President Bush that Creationism (also known as Intelligent Design) should be taught in America's classrooms as an alternative to Evolution. Hogwash.

America is founded on the freedom of religion and the separation of Church and State. Creationism is a religious belief which, Catholics at least, are not obligated to believe. Every Catholic has the right believe or to not believe that God created the world in six days - that alone should be enough argument to keep it from being taught in a science class! I do believe in God, but I do not believe in the Biblical story of Creation and Adam and Eve. I believe in the messages that were taught when using these parables. These are stories which are told to express a belief in God at a time when science was unable to offer an explanation of our beginnings. Now we are able to offer the theory of Evolution.

If you believe in God, as I do, than you surely know that many Christians believe God to be Omnipotent. (Though if God can do no evil than explain to me how he is omnipotent.) Nevertheless, let's assume God is all powerful. Is He not able to have created a world, a universe which is based upon the principals of Evolution, the signs of which we are discovering all around us? Could God not allow the development of species and allow their demise as part of His plan? If you believe he is Omnipotent, than you must believe that He certainly CAN do just that. The history of our world (in whichever branch of science you may choose: biological, physics, astronomy, medicine, etc) which we know and understand all support evolution as the manner in which species change, evolve, adapt - usually predicated on the need to survive! This is also true of man as the only cognizant and rational species - we still seek new ways to understand our universe and our origins. We work through our sciences in part to achieve many great things for the continuation of our species. We are evolving! It's a marvelous thing, but it can also be frightening. New views demand a change of a belief - whether it is a faith based belief or a scientific belief. Change always has the possibility to challenge us to grow. Move forward. Evolve. All compatible with an omnipotent God, yes? Yes. In the end "the unknown is unknowable." I choose Evolution as the greater work of God, in which he gives this wonderful ability to adapt to even the lower creatures and plants. And so much more to us. Science, if God is about, is his gift to man as well - for we are HIs creation, as are our minds! I believe He wants us to discover a great deal and use this knowledge for the good of man, and our planet.



The dire and harmful step we are embracing if the country decides to allow Creationism to be taught as a science when it is not a science is profoundly disturbing. You cannot teach Faiths' beliefs in a science class. These beliefs are founded on trust in God alone from a text, the Bible, which has been pointed out as being full of stories - parables - and for which there is no scientific discipline which can provide any sort of an answer. Why? Because a belief is an intangible thing of the heart. A belief is a glorious gift to receive, but use it wisely, support those members of your Church, Temple or other house of worship and understand your Faith's rich heritage and explain the texts as you would in any class: words with different meanings being pulled apart, texts examined to discover which is the most likely meaning when this parchment comes from this time and this word means this, but also this and this too. There is a marvelous place for Science and Religion to interact together which should be worthwhile to both. But not in Science class, please! In World Religion, please! Give the honor due Religion - for it is a driving force of man as long as we know man has existed - it does have a place, even a scientific place. But that place is not in the science lecture our children will attend about Evolution.

Jesus Christ said "Give unto Caesar what is Caesar's and give unto God what is God's." If my memory serves me for the quote. Here is another way of stating the same good advice. Give your children a marvelous Faith, in which Love is the greatest act you can give or receive in honoring God and His people, study all the wonderful and comforting texts of your Church and do so proudly. Then send your children to classes where they may be educated in Science, Mathematics, History, Arts, Literature, World Cultures, Religions and all the great studies of men. Let them embrace the magnificent knowledge that men have accumulated over millenniums which gives us all the lives we are priveligied to have today. When our children have both Faith and Science I think they will be a strong and happy people.

And for those of our children and adults who do not have a Religion or Faith, speak in the religion class about what Agnostic and Atheist mean. And PLEASE, teach our children and adults of the prevalent Catholic and Protestant Christian groups that the Buddist, Islamic and Jewish peoples all have something which we may learn from, let us in an appreciation of a world of many cultural beliefs take our brothers and sisters to heart, as friends, with whom we must learn to live in order to survive.

I Am What I Am

Opinions founded on prejudice are always sustained with the greatest of violence.
Francis Jeffrey (1773 - 1850)

It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.
Andre Gide (1869 - 1951)

It is dangerous to be right when the government is wrong.
Voltaire (1694 - 1778)

The fundamentalist right, whether Christian, Muslim, Jew or Catholic will find their voices hoarse soon from raging against those of us who are gay and seeking civil equality. When their voices die, it is their hands which will be raised against us. I believe with the current administration of this country, and the intolerant speak of the Vatican and other religious organizations, that day is near at hand in America.

Paradiso, Paradiso

There are so many disturbing things going on in the world everyday one wonders how our minds can process even a small part of the tragedies. I'm not going to list them here, just run your mind back over this first half of the week's news and remember horror after horror. It is incredibly difficult to be involved in just a minor way: reading and listening. Then it grows complex. You throw in the letters you need to write to politicians, businesses, pro-groups and anti-groups, then friends and family who may also write a letter... Add in phone calls, to all the same on the list. The regular shit doesn't take time off - the doctors and more fuckin' doctors to stay alive - it's a job on its own. Throw in follow up and then finally sit and write a little about it, which is the catharsis moment, the second all your work makes sense and you find you're too pooped to write about it, to pull out your notes and list of sources. In fact you're feeling shitty enough just to begin to...............really not care. Not even an exclamation point. That's how this week is making me feel. So, having been down these Everyman's dark and friendless roads many times before I am prepared. I will have a nice smoke, just for the utter pleasure of it, watching the lovely heavy scented smoke curl away as I breathe it slowly out. I will listen to Josh Groban sing 'Cinema Paradiso', headsets on - the nice Bose ones which block ambient noise - and lastly, as I finish this blog to lush swells and sweet scented smoke, think of my dearest husband, sitting in the kitchen watching a program about ghosts. I smile to myself, think of scratching his ears and hair gently and saying "bedtime, Doodles? Come an' cuddle, need you...". He'll say "I want to see the SciFi channel." Fine. Absolutely fine. I'll crawl in beside the man, tap his arm, which he opens wide for me and I rest my head on his strong muscular shoulder as his arm curls 'bout me. His scent is familiar andabout love. Deep sigh. Peace. He'll drowse before I do, and snore, his own sweet snore, and I'll reach up and place my hand on his brow and bless him, beg God as I know Him, to comfort and hold Mark tight, clear his mind of thoughts of worry and allow him to rest, weariness set aside for this night-time together. I am then for a nano-second-eon joyful and quiet in my heart. His is there, too, just there, beating. Another night of life, with him. Thanks God.

La Vie en Rose?

Oath of The Horatii, Jacques-Louis David, Musee du Louvre

Professor Alan Hyde's paper, 'Our Homosocial Constitution: Some Sexual and Political Themes in Paintings Admired by the Founding Fathers', is a fascinating journey into the heads of some of the authors of our Constitution. The premiss asks us to see the Constitution as, primarily, Thomas Jefferson would have when helping to write our nation's primary document. Hyde speaks of a 'visual culture' which for all of us is a unique perspective. No person may actually view anything viewed by another, we must instead depend on our explanation of what we see, and are therefore limited to words, whether oral or written. We are asked then to attempt to 'see' how Jefferson was influenced and promoted the ideals set forth in late eighteenth century French paintings, often inspired by the neoclassical views of Greece and Rome, and perhaps viewed at the time not for their artistic value but for the political ideals set-forth in the image. Jacques-Louis david was the master of this historical genre and influenced much of Europe and the foundling America. We are introduced to the paintings which Jefferson had copies made for Monticello. The inventory, according to Hyde, is telling. What did Jefferson's view bring to our Constitutional society? A new social order in which a primarily male aesthetic blossomed and in which women played only a supporting role. Hyde points out that this was the first break from a long tradition of elevating women with "...an objectifying male gaze that often placed a woman as the central object of desire." Consequently, the Constitution came to represent a view of the world in which a fraternity between men replaced the family as a model for society at large.

The Death of Socrates, Jacques-Louis David, Musee du Louvre

This may sound an ideal to the average gay man. I assure you it is not! David and his like must now be viewed for their artistic merit and, perhaps, an appreciation of their political views of the past but with a clear realization of the huge limitations such a moral and ethical code would now impose. If we attempt to live with the Constitution as (possibly? probably?) envisioned by Jefferson our GLBT communities will be as replaceable and as defunct as women were in his eighteenth century Enlightenment thought. The Constitution becomes a static document capable of relevance only to those who see the world in this most conservative and rigidly prejudicial manner, the best contemporary maxim for which is simply: 'the Good Ol' Boys' Club'. Don't underestimate the devotion still held by many for this model of government, it is enshrined in the fundamentalist hierarchy of the current Republican party. Our living, progressive document transcending era and speaking still to successive generations of Americans, interpreting modern societal experience, is essentially threatened to all our detriment, with swift erosion if not utter annihilation. The 'New' Supreme Court, fast approaching, will greatly determine how our Constitution comes to be viewed. The importance of which type of document we consider our Constitution to be is now telling and it will become increasingly fundamental to our liberty - or lack thereof.

Professor Hyde's essay, fully annotated, may be found at: http://www.andromeda.rutgers.edu/~hyde/homo.htm#N_1_

OR, click the title of this article above (La Vie en Rose) to take you directly to Hyde's page.

Leonidas at the Thermopylae Pass

Musee du Louvre
Jacques-Louis David's magnificent painting of the last moments of the great Greek general after he is betrayed to the Persians. This homoerotic work is a magnificent testament to the skills of the artist.

Expunged History

School of Caravaggio, Private Collection
Many of the great Greek myths have been seriously eroded of their same sex relationships, according to Andrew Calimach the author of "Lover's Legends, The Gay Greek Myths. Calimach states: "Nine previously suppressed Greek myths about Hercules, Narcissus, Zeus and others reveal a new side to characters we thought familiar, and reflect a nuanced morality integrating spirituality and male love. " You may find his book at www.haidukpress.com. The Christian Church has suppressed much of the artwork and writings of the classical world as it attempts to eradicate the historical context of same sex relationships because of it's views of what is moral. The Vatican Museum reportedly has a large collection of these works which are hidden from view not only from the general public but from scholarly research as well. Just within the last few years a newly discovered fresco at Pompeii showing women together in same sex acts was strongly discouraged from being made public by the Vatican. This pressure upon the secular scientific community is an act of censorship that wrongfully attempts to prohibit archaeological discovery from being documented for the public.. Why censor this material? The suppression of same sex history supports the current notion of the far right that the homosexual community is without 'tradition'. Tradition is only slightly less significant as an authority for their anti-gay views than dogma. In fact the Vatican holds up tradition in its argument that marriage may only be between a man and a woman. It is rather like the eighteenth century notion which sought to place erotic literature and art into private collections to be viewed and accessed only by those who were deemed suitably educated. Suitably educated meaning adherence to the Christian norms of condemnation of overt sexuality, whether heterosexual or homosexual. Our historical context, unsuppressed, is then even more dangerous to the neo-conservative. The the notion that their is a tradition, a tradition supported more and more by historical research, that homosexuals have had loving, committed and long term relationships every bit as passionate and complex as any opposite sex commitments, for as long a time as opposite sex commitments, is to crush a central driving force of the neo-cons rational for depriving us of marriage and of social and political equality.


"Or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent
On either side, pitying the sad death
Of Hyacinthus, when the cruel breath
Of Zephyr slew him; Zephyr penitent,
Who now ere Phoebus mounts the firmament,
Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain."

from Endymion, Keats

Fete Galante!

This mural was created in Los Angeles. It is to be found inside a turret, containing the main entrance stair for the home, and sweeps along the wall in a great arc from bottom to top. My inspiration came from eighteenth century French artists, who delight us with their asymmetrical rococo charms,
like Jean-Baptiste Pillement and Jean-Antoine Watteau, (his minor decorative work). This large work gives a bright, cheerful presentation of a parade of various animals costumed in human dress in revelry. The work interacts with more serious architectural renderings upon the walls of the main landing, and was intended to give the feeling of entering the interiors of the house from the garden. The painting style is loose and swiftly done in reminiscence of Fragonard's 'minute' portraits. This 'rushed' quality infuses the work with a feeling of movement & lighthearted charm. The revelers include two main characters, a handsome goat, subtlety alluding to Pan, with a saddle upon his back, as if ready to give rides - perhaps to the host's guests, in need of being whisked away from the outside world for a little time. The other a monkey in gentleman's mid-eighteenth century costume, piping, referencing again the idea of a merry company. Near to the upper landing a second monkey has scrambled upon the 'architecture' and attempts to





lure a bird closer with his gesturing. A great red and white banner has been erected on spears, forcing them to serve the revelers as simply posts and indicating that at this pleasant gathering at which there is no need to brandish weaponry for peace reigns here. The background is accomplished with shrubs and trees, greatly softened and convincing the viewer that there is some expanse away and beyond, perhaps filled with yet more revelers moving onwards and upwards to the fete, staged just above and still out of reach... The overall intent of the work is to remind the homeowners guests that they may leave behind the outside worlds cares and burdens and, upon admittance to this special place, embark upon pleasant diversions while they remain guests. You may contact me, Don Larson, for your own decorative needs through Daedalus Fine Arts & Decoration, dwflarson@mac.com or 310.435.9433. I'll be happy to help you plan a design which reflects your image!

Cindy Sheehan

This mother is a gem - not just because she wants the boys home and the war to end, but because she is making it impossible for the president - and the country - to ignore the body count. That small town in Ohio, for instance, which lost some 20 men at nearly one time a week or so ago was a place any true Commander in Chief would have sought out to comfort and to support his citizens and rally them in his belief that they did not die in vain. No show. Why? I think it's because Bush probably doesn't believe himself that they died for anything other than oil. Remember when the Queen of England refused to come back to London when Diana was killed? And then refused to show any respect at the funeral? Well, she wound up being forced to do both because the English public demanded this gesture. That's what I think Cindy Sheehan's actions are like. Elizabeth II was smart enough to maintain the royal family with a little humility - will Bush be smart enough to do the same? In some ways I wish he would do it - for the sake of the brave men who have died and their families. On the other hand I hope he sticks to charcater and does not - because it seems to me that should tell America and the world just what his character truly is: without morals or ethics, without compassion, without scruples and without sincerity. Bravo Mrs. Sheehan!

Cerveaux de Veau aux Poires Noir

Summer is fleeting past and I have not had a holiday! The truth is we, Mark and I, haven't had a holiday in years, though I suppose our living in Amsterdam for several years may count by some peoples standards! The last genuine pleasure trip that we took was to Paris in 2001 - while we were in residence in Holland. We took the TGV, the high-speed train, from Amsterdam to Brussels (this leg was NOT high-speed at the time as the tracks were not yet upgraded) and then from Brussels to Paris at an astounding clip whistling us through the French countryside in splendor. I cannot recommend enough traveling by train in Europe. The experience rarely exceeds the time involved in flying, when one includes the check-in and disembarkment delays at either end of your flight. Additionally, the train is comfortable. Truly comfortable. You have generous leg space in First Class, (a pittance more than Second), and the ability to move about the coach almost without interruption, the food and beverage cart being wheeled through and the embarkation of passengers in Brussels were the sole exceptions.


When we arrived in Paris we simply acquired a luggage cart, just like those at the airport, and made our way to the street where we hailed a driver with a luxurious black Mercedes. We were whisked to our hotel via the newly renovated Opera, its newly regilded statues flaming in the late afternoon light. Our accommodation, the Hotel Saint Regis, was very comfortable if a tad overdone. The guest room interiors had a look of American French design with an overtly Provençal scheme of brightly colored toiles. These seemed out of place in the cool northern light of Paris. The lobby, dining room and bar were supplied with an English mix of damasks, plaids and chintzes which most of the clientele surely found comfortable but which I thought lacked the cool elegance of Parisian interiors. Nevertheless, the hospitality of the staff and the marvelous breakfast and dinner fare more than compensated.

We arrived in the spring. My previous visits had been in the autumn and winter and I was prepared for the cliches of "Paris in the Springtime" to be only hype and exaggeration. I was incredibly wrong. I have never seen the city more beautiful. The fresh colors and the feeling of walking through one large park, trees in leaf and flower everywhere, was incredible. We were enchanted!

Our intent was to meet up with our friends, Dr. Timothy Marten and Ms. Mary Heylin, who had arrived a few days earlier from San Francisco. Tim and Mary are ardent supporters of the San Francisco Ballet and were in Paris in conjunction with the troupe's visit. We had several wonderful outings with them, two of which come immediately to mind.
Mary was keen on acquiring china for their new home. She'd been looking among the shops without success. I was delighted to be able to acquaint her with the Bernadaud Limoges shop on the Rue Royal between Place de la Concorde and the Madeleine. After enjoying the marvelous array of patterns Mary opted for the 'Decor a la Reine', a historical pattern produced under the auspices of Ancienne Manufacture Royale Limoges. The pattern was originally produced by the Sevres manufactory for the Compte d'Artois in 1774. Her choice was to my delight the same pattern which I'd been given as a gift by Mark on our previous visit. Great fun!


The second memory I hold is of our joint visit to the Musee Nissim de Camondo off the Boulevard Malesherbes on the Rue Camondo near Parc de Monceau. This once private home was built in the Louis XVI style and fitted with what is now considered to be one of the finest collections of eighteenth century French furniture, painting, porcelain and objets d'arts. It was a great pleasure to see these beautiful objects arranged as they might have been in a home (when your home is your palace) setting. The collection looks as though it was acquired over time, with beautiful objects of both the rococo and the neoclassical taste deftly mingled with affection.
Afterwards Mary led us on a merry chase in search of the 'prefect' restaurant for the 'perfect' lunch, wishing to create a memory. She succeeded hugely! Mary is the person to be with if you wish to gain entrance to the latest and most chic spots in any town. She simply whips out her Blackberry and stylus and in a moment or two one is granted access to those places you and I can barely acquire a reservation! The charming place she found for us that day we elegant and sophisticated, but also very accessible. The staff took us to a small dining room on the second floor of the period building. Light and airy and homelike with pictures on the wall and an amazing bar containing a large wine collection displayed dramatically. The menus offered us incredible choice of delicacies from which we chose some marvelous dishes, but I warn those of you who may have the spattering of French that I do to be clear about your menu choice. I was very aware that 'veau' meant veal, and 'poires noir' indicated that the sauce was made of blackened pears, but I was slightly dismayed to have overlooked that 'cerveau' indicated calf brains! It was a challenging lunch for I would not insult our hosts who were most anxious to please, and I must attest to the cookery being the finest I'd had to date in Paris. The rich sauce of caramelized pears is what I'd focused on when choosing the dish; now, again, I concentrated on the this magnificently prepared sauce and attempted to minimize the the fact that each bite of my entrée was from a perfectly presented mound of calf brain lobes... which I found to be of a chewy texture...!!