Casa-Museo Antonio Padrón.

          





Today it was my first time in the "Casa-Museo Antonio Padrón" and it was amazing and amusing at the same time.

Amazing by the paintings which are there and amusing thanks to the several activities that our English teacher and her colleague had prepared for us .

           And... as we say in Spain, a picture is worth a thousand words...  Ha, ha!!

                                                                                          http://www.antoniopadron.com/

                                                           The arrival at the museum...
                                                                           like children...

           The painting that was not... there... 
           painted by Santiago Santana which had a versatile personality: he was a painter, a draftsman, a stage designer... In fact, he  contributed to the urban design of Las Palmas de G. C.

And, bellow, the photo that I was able to take, at least, when it appeared on a screen in the museum. That was better than nothing!!...

                                                                                     

                                                                      The tools for the future artits. Sorry... 

                                                                           the tools for one of the activities: 

                                                                     empty space and 

                                                                         coloured pencils, pens, wax crayons...

                                                                              

 Firstly, all the classes in the "Indigenous room".

At the end of this photo you can discern the famous work by Pepe Dámaso: "Seven atlantic heroes".

"The aguadoras". 
A realistic and vibrant painting by Oramas.

A painting by our well-known César Manrique.

                                      Listening to the teacher in the courtyard of the museum. 
                           And... we were lucky thanks to the very nice weather we had that day.

                                                                                                 

                          In the workshop of the artist.

We visited the workshop of the artist: a reaL luxury for me!! There, I could enjoy with his personal photos on the fireplace, old furniture, with his materials to paint and his paintings too, for example...




 


                       

    "The Piety", one of his most famous painting.

All students painted in the patio of the museum. There werw a couple of drawings by some of my classmates that I loved.
Nowadays you can see several of these drawings inside wall of our school.





A drawing by one of the classmate.
I loved it.



At a partiuclar time, my English teacher asked us to make a drawing inspired by the paintings at the museum.

We could choose some of them among several significant elements, up to seven.

                       











 and... start painting!


                                                                                    Here is the drawing that I made there...

In my improvised artistic work -ha, ha!!- I wanted to transfer the ocean, a boat, the special vegetation of this earth, as the tabaiba and, on the top on the drawing, I wanted to highlight the majestic presence of the Roque Nublo.

(All these repetitive elements were present in the different works of the Canarian Island painters we saw there).

I put in my painting the representation of two colours. The first one was the red colour that appeared in the dresses of "The aguadoras", paint that can be seen above.

For the second one I found inspiration in the work called "The dance of joy" (I am on the photograph with this paint at the begining of this writing) and hence I extracted the pink colour which I used to write the name of the boat with and my own signature too.

I enjoyed a lot with this activity and it helped me to improve, in fact, in a personal level too, apart from knowing more about these artists and their works.

In the room devoted to Antonio Padrón´s works of art, which gives the name to this house museum.

A. Padrón painted Canarian women on their everyday life and work: the peasant woman, the ceramist woman ("The alfarera"), in the market, the shop, the cave, etc.

At the side, it is one of Padron´s paintings that I really liked.
In fact, it is a painting I found awesome!

This is  another painting  I liked.
I realized that it is another constant element because this topic is also repetitive in his work.
Really, the water is highly appreciated in the Canary islands, specially by the workers of the primary sector.

He also shows ordinary people feelings and their leisure activities...

     ... from both, adults and children:
                                                                         

The required signature in the "Guestbook" of the museum, especially when  the visit had been rewarding at least for me.

Some significant words of the artist...(http://desdelaventanademicorazon.blogspot.com.es/2016/04/apadron-dijo.html)

And...  
some classmates, even, had enough time to go  shopping in the flea market, for example, these beautiful typical flowers called "antunos".

Finally, all of us went to Las Palmas, to the language school and at home.


It was a nice day and a nice experience. I don´t know if we learned much English but...
in my opinion,we should repeat this experience or another similar next year.

I would have liked this visit to be longer to have more time to enjoy and learn even more...
                 Perhaps next time...

             Anyway, thank you to my/our teacher for this and thank you to the school to offer us this... "cultural tour". 

                                                                                                Anna.

By G. Gª Márquez; "Tuesday siesta."

"Tuesday Siesta" by G. Gª Márquez.

You can find the basic information about this story in the next link: http://tuesdaysiesta.weebly.com/

And you can read it in: http://archive.spectator.co.uk/article/22nd-december-1967/12/tuesday-siesta

You can also read this text in Spanish in: http://aprendocastellanoconanna.blogspot.com.es/2016/04/la-siesta-del-martes-por-gabriel-g.html 

And, if you want to read it at the same time in both lenguages, you can read it in a one bilingual website: http://mgarci.aas.duke.edu/cibertextos/EDICIONES-BILINGUES/GARCIA-MARQUEZ-G/CUENTOS/SIESTA-MARTES.HTM

What a Wonderful World!

I have here the song of class today.

                                          Sam Cooke - What A Wonderful World
                                                                  (Official Lyric Video).

A river runs.

There is always hope!!

God and Love.

I´m happy to have read what people said about Love, about God, etc. 

 Why? Because I haven´t any problem with that.

For me is very simpler:

Love is God and God is Love.

          Anna. 

          11.4.16. 

         L.P.G.C.

A good choice!!

Go on!!

Intimations of Immortality.

THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparell’d in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
Turn wheresoe’er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where’er I go,
That there hath pass’d away a glory from the earth.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor’s sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday;—
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!

Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all.
O evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning,
This sweet May-morning,
And the children are culling
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother’s arm:—
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
—But there’s a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look’d upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature’s priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a mother’s mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely nurse doth all she can
To make her foster-child, her Inmate Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years’ darling of a pigmy size!
See, where ‘mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother’s kisses,
With light upon him from his father’s eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learnèd art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his ‘humorous stage’
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy soul’s immensity;
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,—
Mighty prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a master o’er a slave,
A presence which is not to be put by;
To whom the grave
Is but a lonely bed without the sense or sight
Of day or the warm light,
A place of thought where we in waiting lie;
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being’s height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!

O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest—
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:—
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realized,
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never:
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor’s sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

And O ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish’d one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripp’d lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears

William Wordsworth

(from Recollections of Early Childhood)

- See more at: http://trianarts.com/poema-del-dia-oda-a-la-inmortalidad-de-william-wordsworth/#sthash.D9LXweyq.dpuf

By William Wordsworth.

ODA nº X: LOS HIMNOS DE LA INMORTALIDAD 

"What though the radiance with was once so bright,
be now for ever taken from my sight,
though nothing can bring back the hour
of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
we will grieve not, rather find
strengh in what remains behind"

I´m phoning...

             http://www.learning-english-online.net/speaking/dialogues/talking-on-the-phone/

In my naked heart.

          And...
                     today, there was an examination suprise but...
                     (there isn´t a problem to me because)...


                                It isn´t raining cats and dogs,
                                it is raining only a few drops.
                                Hoy, en mi desnudo corazón
                                it isn´t raining cats and dogs.

                                                         Anna.
                                                       22.3.16
                 

                    

http://lavozdelamadretierra.blogspot.com.es/2016/04/bendita-primavera.html

After an exam!!

But, in fact...
Today has not been very hard!!

Learn English!!

Modals Verbs.

http://mirablogdeingles.blogspot.com.es/2014_11_01_archive.html


http://www.eslprintables.com/grammar_worksheets/modal_verbs/

Peace for all!!

Happy Easter 2016!

"Your Majesty"

           Here, you can find one of my new favorite songs -that, fortunalety- there are many; ja,ja!!-.
           I hope you enjoy it. It also serves me to wish you: Happy Easter!!

          http://cancionesqdicenalgo.blogspot.com.es/2016/03/your-majesty.html

Never-Ending Road.

Because... going ahead is my choice!!

I hope you like it and... 

enjoy with the beautiful images and this wonderful song.

                                        Lorena McKennitt. Never-Ending Road.

My return after... The Dark Night of the Soul.

Today I return. I go back to class. They authorized me the change. I can to continue my fligth helping me also of English. To celebrate that today I return, I write again in this blog and I invite you to enjoy with this beaty song.

                                 The Dark Night of the Soul.
                                                    Loreena Mc Kennitt (sub. español).

Publicado el 12 oct. 2013

Composición de Loreena Mc Kennitt del poema la Noche Oscura del Alma de San Juan de la Cruz, una de las obras más importantes de la poesía mística del siglo XVI. Mediante imágenes y metáforas tomadas del amor humano, el poeta busca transmitir las sensaciones que el Alma experimenta en su camino ascendente hasta alcanzar la unión mística con Dios.

Poema La Noche Oscura del Alma

En una noche oscura
con ansias en amores inflamada
¡oh dichosa ventura!
salí sin ser notada
estando ya mi casa sosegada,

a oscuras y segura
por la secreta escala disfrazada,
¡oh dichosa ventura!
a oscuras y en celada
estando ya mi casa sosegada.

En la noche dichosa
en secreto que nadie me veía
ni yo miraba cosa
sin otra luz y guía
sino la que en el corazón ardía.

Aquesta me guiaba
más cierto que la luz del mediodía
adonde me esperaba
quien yo bien me sabía
en sitio donde nadie aparecía.

¡Oh noche, que guiaste!
¡Oh noche amable más que la alborada!
¡Oh noche que juntaste
amado con amada,
amada en el amado transformada!

En mi pecho florido,
que entero para él solo se guardaba
allí quedó dormido
y yo le regalaba
y el ventalle de cedros aire daba.

El aire de la almena
cuando yo sus cabellos esparcía
con su mano serena
y en mi cuello hería
y todos mis sentidos suspendía.

Quedéme y olvidéme
el rostro recliné sobre el amado;
cesó todo, y dejéme
dejando mi cuidado
entre las azucenas olvidado.

San Juan de la Cruz.

Letra de la canción

Upon a darkened night
The flame of love was burning in my breast
And by a lantern bright
I fled my house while all in quiet rest

Shrouded by the night
And by the secret stair I quickly fled
The veil concealed my eyes
While all within lay quiet as the dead.

Oh night thou was my guide
Oh night more loving than the rising sun
Oh night that joined the lover
To the beloved one
Transforming each of them into the other.

Upon that misty night
In secrecy, beyond such mortal sight
Without a guide or light
Than that which burned so deeply in my heart
That fire t'was led me on
And shone more bright than of the midday sun
To where he waited still
It was a place where no one else could come.

Within my pounding heart
Which kept itself entirely for him
He fell into his sleep
Beneath the cedars all my love I gave
And by the fortress walls
The wind would brush his hair against his brow
And with its smoothest hand
Caressed my every sense it would allow.

I lost myself to him
And laid my face upon my lover's breast
And care and grief grew dim
As in the morning's mist became the light
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair.

Categoría

• • Música

Licencia

• • Licencia de YouTube estándar

Música

• • "Dark Night Of The Soul", de Loreena McKennitt (Google Play • iTunes)