JeNel Barth

This is a novel about the life of American master painter Georgia O’Keeffe, her love story with photographer Alfred Stieglitz, and her quest to come of age as a woman. In this novel of a couple, and of passion, betrayal, and art, Georgia comes alive as never before.

Georgia is a young art teacher and artist when she travels from Texas to New York to meet Alfred Stieglitz.  He is a married photographer, gallery owner and contemporary art promoter.  Their attraction is instant and their love affair begins just as Georgia also begins to develop as an artist. She soon gains notoriety as the artistic muse for Stieglitz’s renown nudes series. But Georgia begins to feel trapped in her role as subject while trying to hold her own in the art world.  Her desire to be seen and understood as an independent woman and artist pushes the boundaries of her relationship.  And, we watch as it transforms her into the powerfully independent woman and artist that we know of today.  You can see her independence shine through in the forward, “This is not a love story.  If it were, we would have the same story.  But he has his, and I have mine.”

For fans of the iconic artist, you will enjoy delving into her personal life and see this transformation for yourself.  The story itself is quite romantic and inspirational.  Her struggles and feelings, very real.  It gave me a little more insight into this artist that I have to admit, I idolize.  I read this with my Georgia O’Keeffe print books handy so that I might see the paintings that are mentioned throughout the book.  The Georgia O’Keeffe Museum website was useful as well.  Check out Georgia: A Novel of Georgia O’Keeffe if you are in the mood for the romantic but very interesting story of an iconic artist.

 

As I went out the door to come to the library today, I noticed the frost on the ground and a chill in the air.  It immediately reminded me of one of my favorite children’s books and poems.  I thought it would be nice to share it with you.  Its one of the many, beautifully illustrated Fall themed books available in the children’s area.  Come by and take a look.

When the Frost is on the Punkin

By James Whitcomb Riley

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,

And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,

And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,

And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;

O, it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,

With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,

As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere

When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—

Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,

And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;

But the air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze

Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days

Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,

And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;

The stubble in the furries—kindo’ lonesome-like, but still

A-preachin’ sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;

The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;

The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover over-head!—

O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps

Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;

And your cider-makin’ ’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through

With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! …

I don’t know how to tell it—but ef sich a thing could be

As the Angels wantin’ boardin’, and they’d call around on me—

I’d want to ’commodate ’em—all the whole-indurin’ flock—

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

Keep reading!  -JeNel