. . . look at that: tennis

Showing posts with label tennis. Show all posts

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Cut-throat Fun

Laurence Stephen Lowry

The Tennis Player

1927

I played singles tennis this morning with a friend. We hadn't played together in a few years, not because we weren't wanting to, but because it became a conversation instead of committing to a day and time, you know, "Yes, I'd love to play." "Maybe sometime next week." "Definitely, soon." "Can't wait." And then it's the end of the summer. Oops. Well, we did it today, we committed, and it was so fun! So fun that we set a date for next week, same time, same day. Can't wait.

Max Liebermann

Tennis Game by the Sea

1901

We both agreed that it's easy to forget that there's something special about playing singles - and it's so easy to get sucked into playing doubles, I think because more people play doubles and there are just more doubles games going on. But singles, for me, leaves me feeling more satisfied on many levels: I love the personal, physical, and mental challenge; I like hitting lots of balls; the competition; it involves strategy and tactics, forethought and planning, but at the same time just reaction; and the competition. Did I say that already?

Andre Lhote

Tennis Players

1912

All the while moving your feet, keeping your eye on the ball, following through, breathing, anticipating . . . laughing, swearing . . .

This is me.

(Associated Press)

This is my opponent.

(Getty Images)

Today was great. It wasn't so much about winning or losing, yeah, right. So, OK, she beat me in the first set, but I was leading by two games in the second set when we had to stop (other people were signed up for the court). To be continued next week.

Me.

(Associated Press)

Her.

(Getty Images)

Another friend, who was watching us, stopped us on our way off the court. He asked, smiling wryly, "So, was that fun?" "Ye-ah, it was fun." "Uh huh, cut-throat fun," he said.

"Yup, cut-throat fun."

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Watching Wimbledon Makes Me Remember London

Watching Wimbledon on TV is a summer ritual for me. The tennis is so awesome, plus the leads, closings and commercial segues of the broadcast always show scenes from in and around London. "I was there!" I say. "And I was there - and there - and I rode that double decker!" whatever. I did.

This moment (below) was the highlight of my trip to London in 2010. It's from a journal entry I wrote at the time. I believe this was one of the most special moments with my daughter - subtle and loving and breathtaking, like her:

National Gallery, London

Here I am again, lost in the paintings of a museum. I’m with Mary, though not now. She’s in another gallery somewhere. We’re at the National Gallery of Art in London and this is my 3rd visit here in three days. The Gallery is way too heart-stoppingly, hyper-ventingly dangerous that I need to do it in bits - pace myself. breathe.

I’m so happy to be here in London with Mary, if even for a short time. She is studying and I am visiting, and she has taken me to this museum. Her gift to me.

Young Man Holding a Skull

Frans Hals

1626-1628

Each gallery is paradise - each artist, each painting has an idea for me. I am caught up in Young Man Holding a Skull (Frans Hals, 1626-28) wondering if it really does look quite modern in its brush strokes and expression, when I hear,

“mom . . . MOM . . . come here.”

I see Mary’s face now, eyes wide, turned to me like Girl With a Pearl Earring (Johannes Vermeer, 1665, The Hague) . . . art is everywhere.

Girl With A Pearl Earring

Johannes Vermeer

1665

The Hague

I go to her where she is standing just inside the next gallery, watching her as she motions me to see what is there, now, right in front of me. I see. My breath leaves me. I look at Mary and want to cry.

“Leonardo,” she says. “It’s Leonardo.”

She just knows all that it means to me.

The Burlington House Cartoon

Leonardo da Vinci

1499-1500

Friday, June 28, 2013

Thoughtful Kind of Day: Damn, It's Raining - Again

Breaking Wave

Charles H. Woodbury

1917

It's raining for the fourth day in a row. Too many days to justify anymore that quiet is nice, house cleaning is gratifying, reading is transporting, and writing is therapeutic. The TV has been on Wimbledon and Netflx the whole time, but I haven't been trying to justify that. Though even with my "shows", it's gotten a little lonely - John is out of town at the Wooden Boat Show in Mystic - and I'm starting to think and daydream maybe too much.

However, I have art.

I discovered a new artist, for me, someone who has given me much to think about. Charles Herbert Woodbury (1864-1940), American painter, etcher, illustrator. I've become fascinated with his seascapes - his representations of water in particular. The still and shifting surfaces are thickly painted with rich colors that create both translucent and reflective qualities. The water he paints is graceful and fluid in it's movement. He is painting it as it is: "...he painted what he saw, satisfied that what he saw was really there, all in proper relationship, checked and rechecked by endless reference to the real world" (David Woodbury, son).

And his maxim, “Paint in verbs, not nouns.”

I can see that.

Gloucester Docks

Charles H. Woodbury

1935

The Irish Lady Off Land's End

Charles H. Woodbury

1900

The Blue Cliff

Charles H. Woodbury

1916

Deco Wave (Dancing Wave)
Charles H. Woodbury
1914

It's not intentional that this post is about water when it has been raining endlessly. At least I didn't think about it until now. It's a curious coincidence. But Charles Woodbury helped me pass the time.

It's even raining at Wimbledon . . . ugh: