This is where my obsessions live: the place where imagined realities cease to be imaginary; where words and ideas become ideals; where perspectives emerge from the darkness; where truth illuminates obscurity and feeds the intellect; where history lives in perpetuity; where convictions never die and expression is immortalized.
Over the past couple years, author J.K. Rowling, who was once considering kind of a shining ally for promoting diversity and speaking out for the marginalised, has been sharing views via her official Twitter account which have been decried by many as transphobic or exclusionary. Rowling, a self-described feminist, has spoken out many times against social, political, and economic institutions that have not supported women’s rights, the rights of people of colour, or the rights of the poor. However, this recent trend, which many say falls in line with a TERF (trans-exclusionary radical feminism) agenda, has been both contentious and disappointing coming from someone who had always presented herself as an ally. Below are some of the “Tweets” that Rowling has shared which illustrate her viewpoints. Please note, there is a lot to unpack just from these posts, so I’ve elected not to address previous posts from earlier this year or from last year, but that does not negate their significance.
Rowling, who has almost 14,000 posts and 14.5 million followers on the social media site, has deflected claims of exclusionism on her part as being “nonsense” while saying that the term TERF is itself a hateful label applied to biological women. I will address that in a moment, but I have to point out that I find it ironic that an author who was born as a woman and who used a male pseudonym to publish her books in order to not have them viewed through the lens of her own sex and gender, would claim that gender and sex are static and synonymous. I see this and her many recent statements as problematic on many levels and I wanted to weigh in on this. Indeed, I feel that I need to, because exclusionism anywhere is incongruous with inclusion anywhere. Below is my response.
So, J.K. Rowling, I take issue with a few things here, and I cannot be quiet about it. First of all, TERF is not a term of hate. It’s not directed at just women, but at anyone who advances women’s rights purely based on biology, and not based upon the social construct of gender. Trans women also experience hate. They also experience exclusion. Not only as women, but as trans women, and that is then two areas where they experience invalidation. Elevating women as a whole must be the goal of feminism. It cannot be just to elevate women who have periods. If we define women solely on the basis of who experiences periods, there are going to be many women who are denied because they use birth control, because of hormonal imbalances, because they are pregnant, or because they cannot have periods. Likewise, if we define women on the basis of who is born with a vagina, that then becomes a majority, and we overlook a minority of women who were born with either male or both male and female genitalia. These people exist, too, and it is not advancing feminism to overlook them. I’ll be honest and say that while I, even as a non-binary individual, have advocated for feminism my whole adult life, I have not always understood the degree to which trans people have been impacted by both misogyny from men and denial from feminists who don’t see them as women. In fact, it wasn’t until I spoke, or rather, more importantly, that I listened to my trans friends that I understood how my own definitions and rigid views had contributed to the climate of their oppression and marginalisation. I had to unlearn these definitions and to see things from a different viewpoint than the one I held for so long. But it can be done. And I am a better feminist as a result. I urge you to reach out to the trans community, open yourself up, learn from their experiences, question your own biases, and be a better feminist. If I can, then so can you.
Being an ally to the LGBTQIAPK community is also acknowledging that we as a community are not monolithic. We are not one singular identity and we are not one group of uniform genders, sexes, or sexualities anymore that we are confined by age, race, religion, politics, or economic status. You will find among this vast and multi-faceted community exclusionism. You will find straight people who call everyone else mentally ill. You will find gay men who denounce lesbians and feminists. You will find gay white people who exclude gay people of colour. You will find cis lesbian women who exclude lesbian trans women, calling them heteros in disguise. You will find asexual people who are told that asexuality doesn’t exist. You will find hypersexual people who are told that they are nymphomaniacs or sex addicts. You will find pansexuals who tell bisexuals that they are guilty of thinking in binaries. You will find bisexuals who tell monosexuals that they are just repressing their same-sex attractions and desires. All of these are forms of exclusionism and invalidation. Identity, self-identification, self-expression of desire (or the lack thereof) and of attraction (or the lack thereof) are complex, and they are unique both within the context of the larger collective and to each and every individual. The problem I see is that many are trying to force the collective lens over the nuance of the individual or trying to force the many individual lenses over that of the collective. This is not a hierarchy. It’s a network of overlapping spheres and each person in this sprawling network is valid. Using the voices of exclusionism within any of these sub-communities does not validate your invalidation of any of these other sub-communities. We don’t hold the right to dictate what other people’s identities or experiences are. Ever. Period.
In the past few years, I’ve been through a lot, and I’m finally at a point where I feel like I’m relatively grounded, confident, and stable (LOL… who knows if that’ll last). One of the things that’s been interesting is that I was raised by a single mom and I put her through hell growing up. I know because of my intelligence, my imagination, and my rebelliousness that I wasn’t easy to raise. I also know that my mother was at a point where she didn’t fully know who she was and didn’t get to see her own dreams realised when I came along. Sacrifices had to be made. There wasn’t time to fully become the person she might have envisioned herself to be or to enact the kind of life that she had hoped for. I remember feeling that, growing up, and dreading the possibility that maybe I was just an obstacle. Now, here I am, in my mid-thirties and I often find myself in the role of a confidant and advocate for her, as she deals with her own struggles. What if I could have been that support for her all along, even when I was the one taxing her emotionally, and what would I say now that I can communicate these complex feelings in words? I imagine what advice I would have given to her when she was raising me, but through my adult eyes, and I wonder if she would have listened. What started off as more of a hypothetical exercise in empathy and insight turned into a song. When it was finished, I realised that maybe it was more universal than I had expected, so I’m sharing it now in honour of my mom, a week before Mother’s Day, but I hope that it can give comfort to all the single moms out there who are struggling to live their best life while also providing for their children.
Photo taken 1989.
I bet it’s going to be hard You’re standing inside Pressed against the door While the one you loved Walked out the other side Leaving you on your own And you wonder if you’ll Even see them anymore
I don’t know what support I can offer What can be said that Hasn’t already been said before I just know it’s going to be hard now Having to be both dad and mom Feeling your strength buckle ‘Cause right now you’re on your own Even though you’re really not alone
So, to all you single moms To you mothers, you mommies You mommas, and you mums It’s okay for you to break down It’s okay to cry in your room Take some time where you can and devote it to you Hold your children close and let them know That loving someone is sometimes all you can do
Separation is hard when you’re young Things rise up to the surface when you’re older Just when you thought you were done with them And now you must struggle with this and that Always hoping and praying to god that This little boy will grow up into a man And that the lessons you taught were learned Goddamn, I hope that someday he’ll understand
But what if all this just leaves him damaged Will he ever be able to forgive your flaws Do you even deserve it if and when he does Stop blaming yourself, stop hating yourself Remember that you still always gave him love And sometimes when there’s nothing else That little gift of a tear veiling a smile That little whisper, “I love you”; that’s more than enough
Artist Bill Viola was born in 1951 and he grew up in New York. When he was younger, the artist alleged that he almost drowned while vacationing with family, and he described the incident as a glimpse into “the most beautiful world I’ve ever seen in my life.” His later work as a video artist would revisit the theme of water again and again. Viola received his first video camera in 1970, when he was nineteen and a freshman at Syracuse University, and from early on the exciting new medium of video art captivated him. Despite it at first seeming awkward and overly mechanical, the new technology excited him, and he knew relatively quickly that he had found his calling.
“It was black and white and there was really little more to it than a red button that you pressed to record. But when I did press it, and I saw this blue glow on the screen before the actual image came up, something in my brain said I’d be doing this all my life. Of course, back then that was not a very realistic or practical idea. Video art was not a career option at the time. There was no job doing this. But it felt amazing to be in the forefront of this new thing that didn’t have any rules and involved technological advance that hasn’t stopped even today.” – Bill Viola on his first video camera
“Music has always been an important part of Viola’s life and work. From 1973-1980 he performed with avant-garde composer David Tudor as a member of his Rainforest ensemble, later called Composers Inside Electronics. Viola has also created videos to accompany music compositions including 20th century composer Edgard Varèse’s Déserts in 1994 with the Ensemble Modern, and, in 2000, a three-song video suite for the rock group Nine Inch Nails’ world tour.” – taken from the artist’s biography on Bill Viola‘s official website
“As I descend from grace, In arms of undertow, I will take my place… In the great below!”
“I don’t want to do the standard ‘rock band in a hockey arena’ show. I want to up the par a little bit. I think our stage show has had a lot of thought put into it. It’s not like a KoЯn or Rob Zombie show where they just go into the prop cupboard and pull out as much shit as they can. I hope, when people see our shows, they go, ‘Fuck, that was smarter than that KoЯn tour I saw, but not in a pretentious way – it kicked ass.’ On our previous tour the audience was our enemy but, this time around, we’re best friends with the audience at the end of shows. Everyone’s connected.” – Trent Reznor in a Kerrang! interview, dated July 1, 2000
While touring in promotion of the 1999 double LP album, The Fragile, Nine Inch Nails utilized Bill Viola‘s video artworks extensively. The triptych imagery that Viola created for Fragility 2.0, as the tour was officially dubbed for its second half in North America, focused on nature, particularly dramatic instances involving water; an ongoing lyrical motif on the album. With a strong emphasis on crashing waves, tides ebbing and flowing, and stunning slow-motion splashes of water, the visuals created a haunting metaphor. They express Reznor’s emotional state, as he rages with anger, sinks into a deep depression, and then resurfaces again. Most notably, Viola’s Eternal Return, which was commissioned for the dramatic crescendo in The Great Below, brought Reznor’s poetic lyrics to life in a literal and dynamic way. As the man in the video falls into the water, sending a heavy spray of water out through the side screens, Reznor’s voice rings out, “And as I descend from grace/In arms of undertow/I will take my place/In the great below!” It’s a truly iconic, synchronous marriage of themes, lyrics, visuals, and intensity. The moment is beautifully captured in the live concert film And All That Could Have Been released in 2002.
The Great Below, music and lyrics written by Trent Reznor, performed by Nine Inch Nails:
“Staring at the sea Will she come Is there hope for me
After all is said and done
Anything at any price
All of this for you
All the spoils of a wasted life
All of this for you
All the world has closed her eyes Tired faith all worn and thin For all we could have done And all that could have been
Ocean pulls me close And whispers in my ear The destiny I’ve chose(n) It’s all becoming clear The currents have their say The time is drawing near It washes me away It makes me disappear
And as I descend from grace In arms of undertow I will take my place In the great below
I can still feel you Even so far away I can still feel you Even so far away I can still feel you Even so far away I can still feel you Even so far away Even so far away Even so far away Away Even so far away Even so far away Even so far away“
Viola explains the whole process of creating three different video sequences for three songs in an audio commentary on the DVD presentation of the concert footage. He states: “When Trent first contacted me about creating a video sequence for his new concert tour, he talked about the idea that there needed to be a counterpoint to the high energy intensity of the music and that this was going to occur somewhere in the middle of the concert. So, I immediately got the image in my mind of a storm, and the fact that you can never really comprehend the power of a storm in nature until you’ve experienced the calmness of the day after. And the contrast of that lets you know what the nature of this energy force is. So, the idea of the eye of the storm, the calm center of the storm, never really left me through the whole project.“
He continues: “The key image in the video for The Great Below is this shot of a man who’s literally floating in the air, in some kind of void, and you don’t really know quite what’s going on. At this point in the song, the music is peaking, and Trent is singing about giving himself to the sea, about descending from grace in arms of undertow. At that moment, the guy hits the water, hits the surface that you never even knew was there, and there’s this tremendous explosion; a visual explosion. Again, it’s all seen upside-down, because what we’re really talking about here, what I was connecting with very strongly, is in fact that this is an ascension. It’s an image of ascension, of transformation, into another world, into another state, and so the world as we know it is turned upside-down. And the way out is not down; the way out is up. What you’re actually looking at is an image of a guy who has just stepped off a high-diving platform and is falling about thirty feet, and in mid-air, until he hits the water. We had to drape the entire background with a huge black cloth to absorb the light to make him appear like he was floating on black. The cameraman had to time the camera move down. The human body falls 33 and ⅓ feet per second, which is about the height of that diving platform, so that whole event that you see really takes place in a second, or actually slightly less than a second. That was a very fast camera move. It had to stop right when he hit the water so that the water would remain at the edge of the frame in that moment.“
“Eternal Return” by Bill Viola (2000). Multi-channel video installation. Collection of the Denver Art Museum, gift of Polly and Mark Addison in honour of Dianne Perry Vanderlip, 2006.69A-J
The version of Eternal Return seen on display in the Denver Art Museum‘s permanent collection of video art is slightly different than the one that was displayed on the concert tour. To begin with, it is divided horizontally so that the image is split between two vertical screens set one on top of the other, whereas the original projected version was a vertically-oriented triptych. This smaller version also omits the image of the impact wave on the two sides. It should also be noted that the projected version is trimmed to last only the length of a few lines of lyrics, whereas our version is slowed down considerably more, lasting over six minutes to play out in its entirety, and in the absence of the song, it retains the eerie sound of the air being disturbed by the man falling before climaxing in the deafening roar of his body submerging into the water. Though it is divorced from its musical half, the presentation remains just as sonic as it is visual, and perhaps this makes it more affecting on its own merits.
Eternal Return is currently on view at the Denver Art Museum as part of the The Light Show exhibition which will be on display through November 29, 2020.
Recently, author Andrew Klavan spoke out on conservative podcast The Daily Wire and shared his opinion of the Netflix fantasy series, The Witcher. I won’t get into his overall view on the series, as it isn’t particularly relevant, but Klavan did say something that I absolutely need to address. Klavan criticised the series for its depiction of women in battle, stating that it was unrealistic, and that no woman could ever defeat a man with a sword. This is absurd, because not only have their been numerous well-documented historical women warriors, as well as athletic women in martial arts, who were more than capable of wielding a weapon and defeating men, but because of the extreme confidence of his highly inaccurate assertions. I’m not going to mince words here, nor am I going to waste civility on such an idiotic statement, because the “simple truth” that Klavan is trying to assert is an ignorant assertion of untruth based on his own lack of familiarity with swords, martial arts, and apparently historical precedent. His full quote is below.
“And immediately I was put off by the fact that there is a queen in this who fights like a man and there are a couple of scenes where women fight with swords. And I just hate these scenes, because no woman can fight with a sword. Zero women can fight with a sword. What I mean by that is that in a situation where you are fighting men, who are used to fighting with swords you are going to get killed if you are a woman fighting with a sword. One hundred percent of the time, right? Now you can — a woman with a sword can kill somebody, a woman with a sword can kill somebody who doesn’t know how to fight with a sword. But in a war situation, where you are swinging this five to ten pound sword again and again and again against much, much, much stronger men, they are going to kill you.” – Andrew Klavan, author and conservative commentator for The Daily Wire, on The Witcher
Queen Calanthe and Geralt the Witcher cross blades on Netflix’s adaptation of “The Witcher”.
What is historically factual is that throughout history there has been a monumental devaluation of women and their physical and intellectual capabilities. Klavan’s comments do nothing to validate this devaluation, but his ignorance and androcentric agenda are a deliberate perpetuation of that devaluation, and that is something that all women should take issue with. His criticism of the warrior women in The Witcher is not based on historical knowledge or martial arts experience. It is founded solely on his own erroneous beliefs. That belief can be summarized quite neatly by his own words: ” What actual observation or experience is he drawing from when he makes his statement that no women could defeat a man? He has no combat experience. I would be genuinely surprised if he’s ever even held a real sword, and I daresay that most women with a sword and training could defeat him in combat without much effort, because it is training and experience that make a martial artist good. Their sex and gender are largely irrelevant.
You cannot ascribe weakness or strength in generality to gender. There are tall men and tall women. There are large men and large women. There are strong men and strong women. There are fast men and fast women. Likewise, the same can be said for short men and women, thin men and women, weak men and women, and slow men and women. A person who is fast must still be skilled to defeat a stronger opponent. A person who is tall and heavy may have certain advantages of strength and force, but they also have the disadvantage of fatigue and slowness in recuperating when energy is expended. Yes, a taller person probably has greater reach in their attack, but their lower limbs may be more exposed. Yes, a heavier person may have more brute strength, but they will also have to use that strength more to recover when they are thrown off their balance or grounded. This has been shown in competitive martial arts, both unarmed and armed, between two people with different body types. It has also been shown in matches between people of the opposite sex.
“What I mean by that is that in a situation where you are fighting men, who are used to fighting with swords you are going to get killed if you are a woman fighting with a sword. One hundred percent of the time, right? Now you can — a woman with a sword can kill somebody, a woman with a sword can kill somebody who doesn’t know how to fight with a sword.”
Firstly there are quite a number of factors and variants in combat. Height, size, and strength are some of them. Academic study of technique is another. Most importantly of all, however, is study, practise, and experience. The more studied and experienced the fighter, the greater their skill, and this is true regardless of their physical type or their sex. Now, statistically, it is a fact that the average man is larger and stronger than the average woman, but size and strength are not the sole determining factors in combat. A smaller, lighter person can win a match against a larger, heavier person. All that is required of this is greater speed and agility, technique, and skill. Klavan himself dismissed the rebuke from many female martial artists that they could overcome him in a match by pointing out that his, and I quote, “a sixty year-old scribe,” and not a martial artist or someone with combat experience. So, he is essentially acknowledging one of the major logical holes in his own argument, because he is imply an unskilled and unpractised woman with a sword could not defeat a skilled and practised man with a sword, and likewise that only an unskilled and unpractised man could be defeated by a woman. Well, of course the more experienced person has an advantage, and that has nothing whatsoever to do with their sex. You can’t even argue that a trained swordsman will always defeat a trained swordswoman because the contrary has been proven in fencing matches, Asian martial arts, and historical European martial arts (HEMA).
One could argue in defense of Klavan that he is basing his statements on the women actors that we see in most action and fantasy films and television series who have no real martial arts training or weapons experience. In many instances, in shows like Xena: Warrior Princess*, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Alias, or in films like Atomic Blonde, Wonder Woman, or Anna, the women that you are seeing on-screen are there due to their talent as actors or due to their attractiveness for the intended male viewer. These aren’t typically athletes, martial artists, or soldiers. What you usually see on-screen with women warriors are actors who could not realistically take down a male opponent, provided that opponent had the proper training, but this is because what you are seeing isn’t real; it’s entertainment. This is also true, however, for what you see in fight choreography with male actors. It’s still not realistic. And Klavan should know this, so his criticism should not be supported by what he has seen in entertainment, but by what he has seen or studied in reality. He doesn’t provide historical examples. He doesn’t provide contemporary examples. He doesn’t provide his own direct observations or experience (again, because he has none). So, I therefore cannot accept any defense of his statements based on this, since it is actually further evidence of his ignorance on the matter.
* For the record, I love Xena, but Lucy Lawless was never so much as trained how to hold a sword. She consistently and incorrectly grips a single-handed sword with two hands, her fingers overlapping or interlocked. Her edge alignment is non-existent. She doesn’t use stances that you use in sword-fighting to prevent loss of balance or over-extending your thrust, which means she is vulnerable to being knocked down or countered and struck. She is constantly turning her back to her enemies to spin around or stab blindly behind her leaving her exposed to an opponent’s attack. These aren’t the kind of mistakes that someone with years of experience makes. These are mistakes that an actor makes when they aren’t adequately trained how to use weapons and fight, but given showy choreography that has no real-world value in combat scenarios.
German bastard sword manufactured by CAS Iberia/Hanwei. This long 50″ long sword weighs in at only 3.10 lbs..
“But in a war situation, where you are swinging this five to ten pound sword again and again and again against much, much, much stronger men, they are going to kill you.”
Secondly, I want to address what he says about strength and the weight of a weapon, because this is where his comments are most egregiously inaccurate and ignorant. I personally own or have handled many swords of different types: Japanese katana, Viking swords, German bastard swords, English arming swords, Italian long swords, Scottish claymores, and so on. Not one of them weighs 5 to 10 lbs., not even close, so where Klavan pulls this number from I can’t fathom. This is where he shows himself to be totally unqualified to even offer criticism on the subject. Almost all swords fall within a very small weight difference. The lightest is usually just shy of 2 lbs. and the heaviest is rarely more than 4.5 lbs. and in that rare instance it’s not at all a typical sword, but likely a great sword that would be over 5′ long. Most katana come in between 2.6 and 3.2 lbs., most Viking swords between 2.1 and 2.6, and even the Italian long swords and Scottish claymore come in under 4 lbs., so Klavan’s assumptions about sword weights are off by double or even triple what real swords weigh. Swords are made to be light and efficient. The particular steels used and smithing methodologies employed are to ensure that a sword isn’t too heavy and that it can be wielded, either in duels or on the battlefield, depending on the sword type and purpose, by a person of minimal strength.
Yes, you do need to be able to lift and swing around a few pounds, and yes, you do need to be able to stand and balance yourself, and yes, you do need to be able to move reflexively and dynamically in reaction to your opponent. But, no, you don’t need to be a bodybuilder in order to be an effective swordfighter. When used properly and with training, and in some cases without training, weapons greatly enhance your effectiveness in a fight. They are very much equalizers and reduce the disparities presented by height, size, weight, and strength. A trained fighter will know how to negate their opponents physical advantages to create a more even match. This is true almost entirely regardless of weapon. It should also be pointed out that a weapon in any person’s hands greatly enhances their lethality, because weapons are by their very design and purpose force multipliers, meaning that simply having a weapon at your disposal improves your attack’s capacity to do harm. For example, I could punch someone as hard as I can, and depending on their resilience to pain and their strength, they may be able to recover quickly. However, if I punch that same person with the same level of force while wearing brass knuckles, my capacity to effectively harm them is greatly multiplied and they are less likely to recover as quickly. If I strike you with my arm as hard as I can, hitting you directly, it will knock you down, but it will only incapacitate you depending on where you are struck. If I strike you with a katana utilizing full force, hitting you directly, it will sever your limbs, and regardless of where you are struck, you will be incapacitated or dead as a result. So, simply having a sword, even if you are not trained, increases your lethality in a fight. Having a sword when you are trained, massively increases your lethality in a fight, and your sex isn’t particularly pertinent.
What’s more, in most war situations, spears, axes, polearms, and projectile weapons ranging from the light bow and arrows, slings, and muskets to heavier siege weapons like catapults and trebuchets, would have been used more than swords. Swords have taken on a romanticism of the lone warrior, but in reality, they were used as a last resort, because soldiers would fight in specific formations. When you are in such tight quarters that you can’t even stretch your arms out at your side, you’re not going to favour a sword, but rather a spear. And many women throughout history fought alongside men and against men using spears. There were times when peasants fought against the aristocrats and nobility, and in these instances, the peasants may not even have had access to swords. They would have used what they had already, such as farming and carpentry tools, or they would have created makeshift weapons. These could range from pitchforks, knives, hammers, sickles, and torches to clubs, spears, garottes, and axes. If one examines the peasant revolt of 1381, it managed to do the damage it did because of peasant numbers, and the lack of preparedness of the nobility. The peasants were not soldiers or warriors. They did not have access to the same kinds of weapons that the soldiers they fought against did. Many of the peasants in the uprising were women.
Thirdly, there is actually a long history of women in battle, and though men were more renowned in battle due to the greater proportion of men engaging in battle, the presence of women warriors was also largely overlooked by contemporary chroniclers of history precisely because those chroniclers themselves were predominantly men. But, that in mind, I am willing to bet that most people who aren’t familiar with military history could still name at least one woman warrior for every three male warriors. There’s the obvious ones like Boadicea, Queen of the Iceni tribe, who fought against the Roman Empire, and then there’s the female samurai Tomoe Gozen, who was kind of like the Japanese equivalent to China’s more famous Hua Mulan. But then there are the less obvious, such as Anne Bonny and Mary Reed, both fierce pirates, and Frances Clayton who disguised herself as a man to enlist during the American Civil War. There are many women, both famous and obscure, who have taken up arms in battle and who have been skilled, formidable warriors. These women warriors should not be discounted as true warriors, nor should they be seen as novelties, because there are just as many women warriors who have gone without recognition and renown. From famous female pirates who attacked ports for treasure to viking women who raided villages full of armed men in order to take their lands, history is full of women who showed their skills and strength through combat, and the more you look for them, the more of them you will find. There are also cases where women adopted the traditional uniforms of men and disguised themselves as male soldiers in order to go to war. Why, just recently an archaeological grave site was found, wherein four skeletons, identified as being from three generations, were found buried together with weapons. All of them were women.
Pseudo-intellectual and emblem of fragile masculinity, Andrew Klavan.
This brings me to my next point. Klavan has done no research to verify any of his claims. He, as I have pointed out many times already, does not possess any martial arts training, experience with weapons, or military history. He did not make any attempt to validate his assertions through personal experience, physical evidence, or historical documentation. His claims, which he made with extreme confidence, can easily be disproved through even just a quick internet web search. Anyone who has studied history, not even extensively, but at large, can counter his claims with numerous examples. One need only look to contemporary martial arts to see multiple instances where women beat men in matches. So, why did Klavan even make such remarks? Was he so ignorant that he thought people wouldn’t challenge baseless assertions? Did he simply speak out of turn as someone who himself was ignorant? Or was he making his argument for a specific audience that already devalues women because he knew that their innate prejudices weren’t founded on reality? Personally, I think this was the latter, I think it was calculated, and I think this is yet another example of conservative men attempting to assert social dominance over women by revising or omitting documented incidents where women have shown themselves to be the intellectually and physically capable of equalling or rivalling the capabilities of men. One argument for male dominance over women is that men have lower vocal ranges and therefore can make their voices and sound more aggressive. However, it has also been shown that male primates with smaller genitalia are prone to more aggressive behaviour and louder mating cries, which doesn’t do much to bolster claims of masculinity equating to military or physical superiority, but it does suggest that male insecurity manifests itself in more boastful claims, with or without the benefit of being able to back them up. That’s all Klavan’s comments are. Rather than being a stalwart bastion of masculinity and strength, Klavan has exposed himself as an insecure, ignorant, and petty man who doesn’t want to acknowledge that women are equals. Alas, through his words ironically, he has simply drawn attention to the fact that anyone who enlightens themselves will seem that as just that.
Finding myself back on the streets, I devoted my time to getting lost in books, focusing all my energy on escaping into the power of the written word and the rendered image. Part of the value of escapism is that one often encounters unexpected moments of revelation and catharsis. I don’t believe that there are many people who would turn to a comic book for guidance on how to deal with trauma or repressed emotions. Yet, unlike so many comic book writers, Alan Moore always succeeds in doing the unexpected… even when adhering to his own formula.
Alan Moore‘s works had touched upon sexuality long before Lost Girls. One of the more common criticisms against Moore’s writing is the abundant occurrence of sexual violence. In Saga of the Swamp Thing, Moore shows the villainous Anton Arcane, having possessed his niece’s fiancé’s body, engaging in a form of incestuous rape with his niece, Abigail Arcane. While done for shock value, at least predominantly, this melodramatic revelation felt very real and an appropriate amount of time is given to showing the psychological effects of this supernatural and sexual trauma. In his deconstruction of superhero tropes, Watchmen, Moore depicts an attempted rape by a violent sociopath called the Comedian, after which his intended victim still remains infatuated with him and begins a short-lived relationship with him. This was a powerful and truthful episode in a comic book series that sought to address uncomfortable realities while specifically acknowledging that toxic relationships and emotional dependency are real things. In V for Vendetta, Moore shows a young woman about to be assaulted by government agents, but they are stopped by the titular character V, a masked vigilante and terrorist. This is a rather poignant and realistic episode that aims its sights on corruption of authority and abuse of power and how they are often embodied in attacks on young women. Then there is Moore’s epic erotic saga, Lost Girls, which really should have been more controversial, but wasn’t, much to Moore’s dismay.
The premise of the graphic novel Lost Girls may at first sound exploitative and kitschy, and to a degree it is, but there are some dark, powerful, and thoughtful depths to this work of graphic literature that set it apart from other works by Moore and the vast majority of comic books. Lost Girls is an erotic graphic novel, a pornographic fantasy with literary roots, focusing on the sexual adventures and misadventures of Alice from Lewis Carroll‘s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Wendy from J.M. Barrie‘s Peter Pan, and Dorothy from L. Frank Baum‘s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. On the surface, these three characters seem to only share the basic tropes and traits of the young prepubescent woman who goes on a fantastical adventure of learning in a magical other land, then returning to her own world with some newly acquired wisdom. In this sense, one can see clearly parallels with other coming-of-age stories, but the hallucinogenic quality of their adventures hints at more profound psychological symbolism, and Moore utilizes this to explore the realm of sexuality. Within the pages of Lost Girls, Moore and artist Melinda Gebbie detail a series of cheeky, lurid, shocking, provocative, and surprisingly impactful sexual encounters with these three women. Their stories range from early masturbatory practices to incestuous abuse, from orgiastic goings-on at private schools to group sex with neighbours, and all of this is set against the backdrop of Europe and America in the years leading up to WWI.
The brilliantly provocative, shamelessly erotic, and startlingly emotional graphic novel, “Lost Girls”, by Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie.
Lost Girls is unabashedly sexual, hyper-sexual even, and therein lies the greatest difficulty in explaining it in a way that doesn’t simplify its graphic content or its lofty cerebral aspirations. The story, and therefore also the images, feature fictional children and adults engaging in behaviours that most real-world adults would blush at, and it acknowledges that sexual desires, fantasies, and activities are an essential part of the human animal’s development. Where it wades into murky waters is in its exploration of the difference between fantasy and reality, fiction and fact, desire and action. On the one hand, the narrative acknowledges that we all have thoughts and desires and fantasies that we cannot act upon, because it would be wrong to do so and harmful to others. The story also acknowledges the effects of trauma and how they can create either healthy or self-destructive behavioural habits. On the other hand, the narrative goes so far in elaborating upon these thoughts, indulging these desires, and envisioning these fantasies that it does feel almost as though it is an endorsement to act. At the very same time, a correlation is made between nationalism and violence and sexual repression, and these two disparate ideas together feel at odds with one another.
Where Lost Girls excels is in addressing the effects of childhood fantasies, imagination, trauma, memories, and how our collective experiences shape our later preoccupations in adulthood. This is true whether one is looking at sexuality or not. For people who experienced a great deal of childhood trauma, the way that the past is viewed tends to be dualistic, and nostalgia is perhaps less sweet and more bitter; the delineation between reward and punishment less obviously defined, the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain, pride and humiliation, comfort and unease all the more alluring and confusing. The characters here know that they are characters. They know that they are shaped by their experience and that their experiences are fictional, which means they can react to them in ways that realistically would not be appropriate or healthy, and yet exploring their desires to react to their experiences is very healthy. As a reader we’re reminded that we are also just like characters in books, but unlike them, we can decide how we will respond to the circumstances beyond our control. We are reminded that we have the ability to change our stories by changing what we do and who we are as people. Moore and Gebbie understand this and tread this thematic line like tightrope walkers. They understand that they are telling a potentially dangerous story, and they remind the reader of this, that it’s all make-believe, and that you can put the book down at any time that you feel challenged or discomforted. This is something that isn’t present in most pornography or in most fiction. The safe word is built in to the medium, which means that between the covers there is as much safety to explore as there is risk of arousal and the need to sate such arousal, and that makes the graphic novel unique.
The following is a journal entry I wrote in the moments before falling asleep in the back of a parking lot. As such, it’s a bit dreamy and meandering, but I think that I expressed a certain vulnerability and hope that was quite special. Whatever words or images had lifted me out of my emotional slump managed to get me through the day.
“There are rare, precious moments in life when you find yourself unexpectedly and deeply moved by a work of art, by a piece of music, by the flickering images on a screen, or by the simple eloquence of words on paper. Sometimes these moments are forever ingrained in our memory. Other times they are fleeting, gone before we can reach out and grasp their weight and significance. They are like perfect storms of internal thoughts and emotions and external stimuli; two forces coming together in rapturous conflict, and for a moment, leaving us in a delicately blissful or agonized state of total cognizance. They are moments of clarity. I could not, if I tried, recall each of these instances. They are waspish, flighty, like tendrils of mist that wrap themselves around you and then depart, and all without warning. Others still are less than subtle and descend upon us like thunder; leaving us shaken and branded by the experience. In writing this I find myself somewhere between these two sets of responses and I cannot be sure to which side my pendulum shall find itself after the final swing. What I know is that in this moment, I feel, though all-too-briefly, that I am a whole human being, tiny and perhaps insignificant on a cosmic level, but not inconsequential in the material and ethereal immediacy of now. And that is of tremendous comfort as I go to sleep in this park, concealed beneath the shadows of a large elm tree, homeless and yet not broken; a survivor. Thank you, Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie.“
I endured. I survived. I came out the other side of it. My circumstances did not and do not define who I am. Ultimately this realization that what happens to us need not become who we are is the lasting message of Lost Girls. So, maybe none of us are lost, but instead we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be in that moment of our personal evolution.
For visitors to the Denver Art Museum‘s exhibition Monet: The Truth of Nature, it would be understandable to find oneself so caught up in the extraordinary display of 120 paintings by the undisputed godfather of Impressionism, Claude Monet, that one overlooks a short 51 second video being projected in the third gallery of the exhibition. This projection may be somewhat easy to pass by without being aware of its historical significance as an early film experiment by prominent filmmakers the Lumière Brothers. The placard information in this section of the exhibition tells visitors very little about the film, but I thought that it would both entertaining and informative to share with them more about the film’s history, its importance, and the context of its inclusion in the exhibition.
L’arrivée d’un train en gare de La Ciotat (English translation: The Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat Station) was filmed and directed by Louis Lumière, and produced by Auguste Lumière, collectively known as the Lumière Brothers. Shot in 1895, L’arrivée d’un train, as it is commonly referred, is one of the more famous short films of the early silent film era. It is frequently shown to film students, alongside other classics such as the 1902 Le Voyage dans la Lune (A Trip to the Moon) by Georges Méliès, and the 1903 film The Great Train Robbery by Edwin S. Porter. Trains in particular became synonymous with progress, action, and fast movement. Audiences flocked to films that featured trains because they took full advantage of the cinematic medium and its power to deliver scenes that felt real and exciting.
The Lumière Brothers were among the first filmmakers to truly appreciate the power, not only of the moving image, but of perspective in conjunction with motion. Many early films rely on imagery adopted from the visual arts prior to photographic experimentation. As such, they do not take advantage of perspective or depth, instead relying on two-dimensional representations of space. They appear like moving sketches or moving paintings. The Lumière Brothers wanted to change that, and they did change that, with their introduction of what we call Dutch Angles. By positioning their camera at an angle so that the movement doesn’t occur along vertical and horizontal trajectories, but at diagonal ones, they simultaneously utilized the full frame of the image while enabling a moving object to appear to grow larger as it became closer to the camera. The resultant effect cannot be captured in a drawing, painting, or photograph, even through the use of foreshortening. We see the train as its cars trail off into the distance, but more importantly, we see the engine pull those cars ever closer toward the camera until it passes the camera, coming right “through the screen“.
A film cel from “L’arrivée d’un train en gare de La Ciotat” (1895).
This in turn meant that the moving image of the train appears to move closer to the audience, which according to popular cinematic legend, caused an uproar during its first theatrical exhibition as audiences fled to the rear right side of the theatre for fear that the train would collide into the front of the auditorium seating. This urban legend, as it has been called by some, is still a hotly debated subject with some film historians insisting that it never occurred, while others say that it did occur, but also that it was the source of inspiration for later films which utilized similar techniques. More on the film’s impact later. The film appears tame and even commonplace today, as modern audiences aren’t often accustomed to a stationary camera and continuous cuts, but upon its original 1896 exhibition it was revolutionary and dynamic. This illustrates just how much cinema has evolved in a relatively short period of time.
La Ciotat Station was near the Lumière Brothers‘ Summer home in a bucolic part of southern France. Some of the women members of their family, wearing fanciful French country dresses, can be seen on the platform watching as the train approaches. The Parc du Mugel in La Ciotat is a botanical garden founded over two centuries ago. It features a lush tropical garden near its outlying beach replete with palm trees. La Ciotat was just one of many towns that saw a boom in day tourism with the advent and popularization of the train holiday. Middle class and upper class citizens of France began taking day trips to the countryside and to the coast to get away from the city. This newfound interest in the pastoral can be seen as a reaction to urbanization and industrialism, but also as a reflection of the burgeoning middle class in France, both of which would become a common theme in the arts of the mid 19th Century to the early 20th Century.
L’arrivée d’un train en gare de La Ciotat premiered on January 25, 1896 and was so successful in European theatres that it would be shown in the United States beginning in March of 1896. There the film tapped into America’s national obsession with locomotives, which had become a symbol of the Industrial Era and of Westward Expansion, and it would go on to inspire many filmmakers working on the then emerging genre of the Western. In the aforementioned The Great Train Robbery, we see not only a train coming directly at the camera, but also at the film’s climax a bandit (portrayed by Justus D. Barnes) shooting his pistol point blank into the camera, and thus the audience. These two images owe themselves to the camerawork and cinematic language that the Lumières helped to create for early audiences and filmmakers.
Now, as to that urban legend, the film debuted in 1896, and according to stories passed down generation to generation, it caused a panic among its audience who feared that the train would crash through the screen and into the theatre’s auditorium. Film scholars and historians such as Hellmuth Karasek have perpetuated this story, writing that the film “had a particularly lasting impact; yes, it caused fear, terror, even panic.” Others, such as Martin Loiperdinger, dismiss this alleged incident as an urban legend, perhaps born of hyperbolic appraisal by contemporary critics or perhaps even as a retroactive mythologization of a real occurrence exaggerated to convey how audience expectations and appetites for spectacle have evolved. L’arrivée d’un train would eventually be re-shot by Louis Lumière in 1934, using stereoscopic film equipment in an early experiment to create a 3D film, and it may in fact have been audiences reacting to this version that caused the birth of the urban legend. Regardless of whether the incident did or didn’t occur, or when it did, there can be no mistaking that L’arrivée d’un train helped to establish a number of cinematic techniques that riveted audiences and have become integral to longstanding filmmaking traditions.
The version of the film seen in this gallery is the original shot in 1895 and exhibited in 1896. It has been meticulously restored by the Institut Lumière for the best video presentation possible. An earlier restoration, in which you can see more grain, the focus appears softer, and there are various artefacts (dirt and debris) present on the film can be viewed on Vimeo, courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), which has a copy of the film in their collection. The restored version can be seen below…
Monet: The Truth of Nature will be on view at the Denver Art Museum, its sole US location, from October 21, 2019 through February 2, 2020. After that it will be headed to the Museum Barberini in Potsdam, Germany.
Bibliography: Lokomotive der Gefühle – (English trans: Train of Emotions) by Hellmuth Karasek (from an article in the German magazine Der Spiegel, 1994) The Lumière Brothers and Cinema by Steve Parker (1995) Notes on The Lumières’ L’arrivée d’un train en gare de La Ciotat by Charles Musser (from a larger essay for The Movies Begin, 2002) Lumiere’s Arrival of the Train: Cinema’s Founding Myth by Martin Loiperdinger (essay in The Moving Image, volume 4, issue #1, 2004)
One day we’ll be wondering just where you are When you are free-falling out there among the stars And I am not afraid of that day we say goodbye Because either you cease to be or you learn to fly
And as you plunge into the dark I hope you remember who you are Never afraid to look them straight in the eye And demand to know all the reasons why
As you fall, as you fly, as you soar Into nothingness; to be no more As you fade in physical being I hope that you’ll pass on all that you’re seeing
Share with me and I will comfort you Together one and one make two But nothing can separate us in the end We’re connected as lovers and as friends
One day you’ll be free-falling out there among the stars And back here on Earth we’ll be wondering where you are And I am not afraid to close my eyes and imagine your face As you go hurdling through the unknown regions of space
This is who you were This is who you are No matter how near And no matter how far
One day you’ll be gone I’ll be wondering where to But then I’ll close my eyes And then I’ll be right there with you
If you haven’t been paying attention, then you might assume that everything is the same as it has always been, and you might think that the sameness of your circumstances is a reward for your patriotism. If you have been paying attention, then you know that this assumption is founded on privilege, and you would recognize that people around the country are being oppressed, deported, and murdered. Now, what is the difference between one perspective and another, you might ask. How do two very different groups of Americans find themselves at such odds, at such different conclusions, and with such different responses to the same sociopolitical reality? The answer lies in the narratives we tell ourselves, which shape our perception, sometimes expanding it and sometimes limiting it, resulting in either the inability to see from other vantage points or the ability to do just that.
There is a constant characteristic among the politically conservative that causes them to revise history, to re-contextualize their actions, and reinvent their morality, and all to suit whatever their party’s agenda might be. That said, it is important to recognize that part of this need for revision and reinvention is the fact that their party has not been a constant itself, the conservative oscillating from the Democrats to the Republicans, Dixiecrats to the Tea Party, Libertarianism to Fascism. The one thing that all of these groups have had in common is being motivated by self-interest, being united Eurocentric masculinity, and a general lack of accountability. For this reason we see conservative Republicans praising US Presidents Andrew Jackson and Abraham Lincoln within the same breath, regardless of the fact that they held strikingly different views on slavery, and that one was a conservative Democrat while the other was a liberal Republican.
The core characteristic of the conservative is to adhere to a romanticized past that never existed, and in so doing re-contextualizing the historical and cultural figures and events of that past, and essentially hijacking them to serve their ideology. We see this in the Libertarian Flag, the very name of the Tea Party, and in the way that the Christian-Right claims victimhood constantly crying wolf about their religious rights are being oppressed all the while pushing Christianity as the state religion. Since the Bush Years, these characteristics have become more and more blatantly obvious, and they are reflected in our popular culture. Often in strange ways. Three pop culture icons that have been or appropriated, or misappropriated, in recent years are from the comic books The Punisher, V for Vendetta, and Watchmen. But I’ll touch up those latter two in another installment of this ongoing cultural commentary. And yes, I know what you’re probably thinking, and indeed it is strange. Comic book characters as mascots for political parties and extremist ideologies? Yeah, that is the level of immaturity our society has devolved to, and it’s an adequate expression of how misappropriation works.
The character of Frank Castle, The Punisher, was created by writer Gerry Conway and artists John Romita Sr. and Ross Andru in 1974. Within the comics, Frank Castle’s family was gunned down by the mob, and Frank, a veteran, decides to take it upon himself to wage war on crime. Unlike Spider-Man or Superman, Frank Castle doesn’t have superpowers, wear a mask, or a cape, and he doesn’t dress in a colourful spandex outfit. Frank Castle shares more in common with Batman, whose own family was gunned down by criminals, in that Frank has no superpowers and he is all about symbolic vengeance. He is different from Batman, however, because when Frank dons the title of The Punisher, he does not hesitate to use guns and to kill. In fact, this is one of his defining characteristics, what makes him unique, and what makes him dangerous as a revered pop culture icon. Frank Castle, The Punisher, is a brutally violent vigilante, a self-appointed authority who takes the law into his own hands and in doing so takes many, many lives. He wasn’t designed to be a superhero. He isn’t super. Arguably, he isn’t even really a hero, but an outlaw with a twisted sense of justice. The Punisher operates outside the law in order to do what he saw as serving the law. This is, of course, meant to be ironic. That he was created during the end of the Vietnam War and the end of the Nixon presidency is no coincidence. This was a time when America was questioning its identity, its heroism, its fascination with violent entertainment, and its admiration for self-righteous authority.
The cover to “The Amazing Spider-Man” issue #129, featuring artwork by John Romita Sr. and Gil Kane. This was the debut of The Punisher.
When The Punisher debuted in the pages of The Amazing Spider-Man, issue #129 in February of 1974, during the Nixon Years, he seemed to be too violent, too brutal, and too dark. Maybe he was too much of a reminder of the horrific violence that soldiers witnessed, experienced, and committed during the Vietnam War, or maybe Americans just weren’t ready to see such a grim portrayal of their own fantasies brought to life. Whatever the reason, he just didn’t seem to fit into the world of the “Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man“, and the character faded into the background, but this would change within the span of a decade.
The cover to “The Punisher” issue #1, featuring a cover by artists Mike Zeck and Phil Zimelman. This was the first of many series dedicated to The Punisher character.
By the time of the Reagan Years, The Punisher was the perfect embodiment of the ’80s grim and gritty hero, the muscle-bound, gun-toting, macho man who would take it to the bad guys as viciously as they would take it to you. Frank Castle is consumed with an icy rage and a desire to see criminals punished for their crimes while he punishes himself for his own crimes by suppressing his humanity. He is single-minded, obsessive, and selfish in his pursuits. He fit in perfectly with the likes of Charles Bronson, Clint Eastwood, Chuck Norris, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Sylvester Stallone. America was engaged in a futile Cold War, locked into a standstill with the Soviets, and many Americans wanted immediate action. They wanted a clear-cut victory and a good guy versus bad guy narrative. They wanted to see their “enemies” dealt with expeditiously and permanently. That meant not relying on diplomacy, on foreign relations, or on criminal trials. It meant dealing out death to those who you see deserving it. When you can deliver on those things, when your very symbol is an icon of a skull, you represent death, and you endear yourself to people who crave that kind of self-appointed power. This is the kind of thinking that The Punisher was criticizing, but much like Archie Bunker in All in the Family, this is also what made The Punisher appealing to many of his fans who agreed with this school of thought. People have a funny way of taking an ironic criticism of themselves and adopting it as a hallmark of their own flawed value systems.
While The Punisher was created as more of a critique for a certain attitude that was popular in the ’70s and ’80s, he hasn’t been written or illustrated by one person or even one team, so throughout the different incarnations there have been fundamental differences in approach. Just as the character appeals to a widely varying group of fans, he has also been written and drawn by a widely varying group of comic book writers and artists. Not all of them share the same perspective on the character and some even portray him in a way that is in stark contrast to his creators’ intentions. Gerry Conway once acknowledged that he had created a kind of monster with a strange and enduring legacy, saying, “Everybody brings to it their interpretation, and I have no problem of any of those, so long as there’s a fundamental understanding that this is not a good guy.“
One of the more recent iterations of the classic Punisher logo.
The skull emblem worn by The Punisher became a kind of calling card for people who thought of violence as the be-all, end-all solution to crime and terrorism. Never mind that The Punisher is himself a criminal and uses terrorist tactics to achieve his ends. It was taken up by police who were weary of inner city violence and gang-related crimes and liked seeing The Punisher shoot up the Italian Mafia, the Russian Bratva, the Chinese Triads, and the Japanese Yakuza. It was taken up by punks on the Left who saw The Punisher as a product of a corrupt statist society and as rebelling against authority by killing corrupt cops and politicians. It was taken up by racists on the Right who saw The Punisher as someone who was cleaning house of immigrant criminals and gangs comprised of young black men and Latinos. It was taken up by soldiers fighting in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Iran who saw The Punisher fighting against terrorists and foreign enemies. It was taken up by American sniper Chris Kyle who simply thought that the skull looked cool and that he shared a common living with Frank Castle: killing people. The Punisher became many things to many people (and most of those things weren’t good) and each of them saw his skull as symbolic of their own beliefs and worldview. They misunderstood that it simply represented death and that The Punisher was just a product of violence. He isn’t good. He isn’t bad. He isn’t a hero. And he isn’t quite a villain. He does some good things. He does more bad things. That is why he’s considered an anti-hero. When you identify with him, you should feel discomfort, you should feel conflicted about it. The skull isn’t an emblem of any philosophy or ideology. It’s not a call to action. It’s an admission of failure, a failure to serve and protect, and a failure to recognize oneself. The whole point of the character is to question vigilantism and authority, not to embrace them, and the people who know the character best want you to know that.
“I’ve talked about this in other interviews. To me, it’s disturbing whenever I see authority figures embracing Punisher iconography because the Punisher represents a failure of the Justice system. He’s supposed to indict the collapse of social moral authority and the reality some people can’t depend on institutions like the police or the military to act in a just and capable way. The vigilante anti-hero is fundamentally a critique of the justice system, an example of social failure, so when cops put Punisher skulls on their cars or members of the military wear Punisher skull patches, they’ve basically sided with an enemy of the system. They are embracing an outlaw mentality. Whether you think the Punisher is justified or not, whether you admire his code of ethics, he is an outlaw. He is a criminal. Police should not be embracing a criminal as their symbol. It goes without saying. In a way, it’s as offensive as putting a Confederate flag on a government building. My point of view is, the Punisher is an anti-hero, someone we might root for while remembering he’s also an outlaw and criminal. If an officer of the law, representing the justice system puts a criminal’s symbol on his police car, or shares challenge coins honoring a criminal he or she is making a very ill-advised statement about their understanding of the law.“ – Gerry Conway, writer and co-creator of The Punisher, on the use of the skull logo by American law enforcement and the military
The Thin Blue Line version of the Punisher logo.
The Punisher skull logo has also been adopted by Blue Lives Matter, a counter-protest movement, which sprung up on the heels of the Black Lives Matter movement. Blue Lives Matter is a group that holds to the notion that lives of police also matter and therefore we should be siding with law enforcement. Along with All Lives Matter, it operates under the assumption that Black Lives Matter is somehow an isolationist or supremacist movement. What it fails to recognize is that while, yes, all lives matter, not all lives are being systematically targeted by racist agendas. Worse it operates under the misapprehension that there are “blue lives”. People are born black, born brown, born red. These ethnic groups have been targeted time and again by white ethnic groups. Nobody is born blue. Blue skin doesn’t exist. People aren’t born into the profession of police officers. That is a choice that a person deliberately makes. You don’t get to choose your race or ethnicity. What is odd is that if police lives matter isn’t opposed to black lives simply existing, then why did their movement rise up in response to Black Lives Matter, and why did they choose as their symbol for support for law enforcement a skull; an emblem of death? That doesn’t seem to equate “to protect and serve”. It’s intimidation of a minority group disguised as support for police. It’s no different than racism aimed at one ethnicity disguised as national pride in another.
Black Lives Matter sought to show the world how American police have perpetuated a long history of brutality, violence, and suppression on black Americans. Historically, this is true, and it’s almost impossible to argue against. There is a long and undeniable history of police violence against people of colour (I have covered that ina previous entry). Yet, rather than actually acknowledge that and look for possible solutions, many white reactionaries have pointed out that there is even more “black on black violence“, referring to the percentage of black men killed by other black men. But the reality is that one could also say that there has been an even greater problem of “white on white violence“. Most violent acts are perpetrated by people within the same community, ethnically and geographically, and that is not surprising for a variety of reasons I won’t get into here. Then there is the other reactionary argument that if people of colour weren’t committing crimes then they wouldn’t be getting shot by the police. Well, there is some truth to that, but that response generally overlooks decades of institutionalized racism, segregation, and socioeconomic conditions, and it also overlooks the important statistics about who commits crimes and where. Violence is violence and it is all negative. But that doesn’t take away the issue of police brutality visited upon black communities. Period.
This is where we get into false narratives. We live in an age of “Fake News” and “False Narratives“. These are terms that have been popularized by fringe groups and political commentators on both the far-Right and the far-Left. There are indeed false narratives, but more often than not, the term is applied without much thought or analysis as a knee-jerk reaction to a statement that someone disagrees with. No further explanation is given to back up the claim or provide a justification for the term being used to begin with. I am going to try to explore that. Holocaust deniers call Anne Frank‘s diary a false narrative, despite the fact that the diary itself is supported by numerous other documents verified to be authentic, and by the fact that a vast majority of historians acknowledge that the Holocaust, which left behind thousands of bodies and thousands of first-hand accounts from survivors, did happen. Many white supremacists claim that the South will rise again, despite a nationwide movement to remove Confederate monuments, a surge of African-Americans entering into significant positions within the government, including but not limited to President Barack Obama, and a strong backlash to every single White Pride demonstration for decades. A false narrative persists in its folly despite all identifiable facts pointing toward the contrary. Both the false narrative and the terms “Fake News” and “False Narratives” have been part of the alt-Right movement.
The skull logo of The Punisher has been used by many of these groups. A simplified version of the skull has even become a symbol for the White Supremacists and Neo-Nazis that marched in Charlottesville. And what does The Punisher say to that?
“Fuck them.“ – Jon Bernthal, actor who plays Frank Castle/The Punisher on the Netflix series, on the appropriation of the skull logo by white supremacists and the alt-Right
You can write songs about anything. Literally any thing you can think of may become a song. Yet sometimes there are topics, ideas, and emotions you want to convey that fight back with you as you attempt to express them. Sometimes you struggle with yourself on how to best express both your feelings and your thoughts. Certain ideas don’t translate well or they sound one way in your head and another when committed to paper or spoken out loud. Certainly, that is the case with abortion and reproductive freedoms, because it’s hard to talk about without people taking a reactionary stance whether it’s pro or anti. Abortion is a challenging subject. It’s challenging to talk about like an adult and it’s challenging to talk about without it becoming a religious or political debate. Taking something that is for so many people a controversial and highly emotional subject and trying to explore it on a purely emotional and empathic level is by no means an easy feat. We’ve come to a place in our collective culture where reproduction is such a hot button topic. Even when we don’t politicize it. People harp on each other about having babies too young or too old, about not having babies, about having too many babies, about having abortions, about not having abortions, about what is and isn’t empowering to a woman, about what is or isn’t inclusive of the man. I feel like we’ve become so wrapped up in this debating mindset that we’ve forgotten the very basic principle of bodily autonomy and that the choice being made truly belongs to one person. Whether you agree with her or not. The discussion about women, women’s bodies, and reproductive freedom has largely been relegated to reactionary group think and it does no one a bit of good, because this is a choice that needs to be made by the mother-to-be or the woman-not-to-be-a-mother. It’s not up to anyone else. Not to political parties. Not to family or friends. Not to sociology students. Not to census takers. Not to religious groups. As sacred as all life may be, so too is the right of the individual to choose what happens with their own body, and the direction they go must also be their choice, whatever direction they take or choice they make. I stand by that. I also stand by the right to choose whether you breast feed or bottle feed, whether you breast feed in public or privately, whether you go to work or stay home, whether you drop the kids off at daycare or have dad stay home (if there is a dad present) or whether you take turns with your partner (male or female) in raising the kids. It’s all about choice. It’s about the sanctity of that choice, the liberation of it, and the accountability of it too.
Her Choice
The mother at work is a sacred thing The child that’s waiting is a sacred thing The doctors in their offices a sacred thing
The choice in the making is a sacred thing
So step back and respect it for what it is It’s not yours to own or to control it That life and what promises it may bring Are not yours, but are hers alone
The tears of joy are a sacred thing The screams of pain are a sacred thing The hours spent worrying a sacred thing The relief of just knowing is a sacred thing
So calm down and accept your distance These emotions are not yours to own The burden of thoughts not yours to handle And you can always turn around and go
The empty cradle is a sacred thing The sleepless nights are a sacred thing The life in her arms is a sacred thing The second time trying is a sacred thing
And you cannot negate her choice If a window was left open would you close it When the sun arises will you force me into light Then why would you try to mandate life
Really, it’s no secret at all that in Hollywood, profits will trump ethics almost every single time. So, when a scandal occurs involving one celebrity or another, you can assume that how a studio responds to that scandal will be more dependent upon how much capital that celebrity generates than upon some moral decision, which is problematic for a number of reasons. There are writers, directors, producers, and actors who are thriving in Tinseltown despite being involved in some very shady goings-on. Others find their careers ended due to mere associations and rumours. Then there are those who are cut off from the entertainment community with good reason. Just this week Allison Mack, a leading actor from the hit WB/CW series Smallville, confessed to being involved with a sex cult/human trafficking group. This comes after the recent sex scandals surrounding Bryan Singer, Kevin Spacey, Michael Jackson, Bill Cosby, and Harvey Weinstein. (Hollywood clearly has a real problem with sexual exploitation and abuse that needs to be addressed.) In almost all of these cases, the exception being Jackson, the people caught up in these scandals have had their careers virtually wiped out by their misdeeds. And rightfully so. But in all of these instances, the people involved had multiple accusations of actual abuse made against them, and that is simply not always the case. So, what is the right course of discipline for people who may have overstepped the boundaries of propriety, of what is currently socially acceptable, but have not outright harmed anyone beyond the initial controversy of their words and actions? These are important questions in an ongoing discussion about freedom of speech and accountability in the free market world of American entertainment.
Marvel Studios’ 2018 banner celebrating the first ten years of the studio’s successes. Of the 29 characters on the banner, which represents 19 films released over a decade, 7 of them are from the “Guardians of the Galaxy” franchise. This emphasizes that not only are the Guardians characters popular, but they are also highly profitable, and thus integral to the MCU.
Enter Walt Disney Pictures… and Marvel Studios. When Disney bought Marvel back in 2009, around a year after the launch of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU), it was supposed early on that the family-friendly corporation might hold the reins to the comic book company a little too tightly. There were fears that they might even censor the more adult content of earlier comics and comic book-inspired films. So far, that has not been the case, and it’s largely been a pleasant surprise for fans. The MCU films have been a huge success. By “a huge success”, I mean a titanic, phenomenal, cosmic success. Since 2008, the MCU raked in a massive total of $19 billion, which is astonishing by any metric. No film franchise has come close to this level of financial success within a ten year period. It’s unprecedented. The films are making so much money that it puts Disney in an interesting and somewhat dualistic position. On the one hand, that level of success means that these films are highly visible, that there’s a built-in audience, and that they will pull a massive profit no matter what, and so there’s a certain freedom there to take risks and hire filmmakers to helm franchises that may not be immediately obvious. Or even safe choices. On the other hand, it also means that they may be overprotective of their investments, of what projects go forward, and how to ensure that those projects match up with the lucrative business of their previous films, which means that studio interference and control could be a potential problem. Either way it’s a lot of pressure for a studio president or executive to deal with.
So, what happens when a filmmaker, or even an actor, does something that doesn’t line up with the almighty studio’s plan, either in their personal life or in the process of making a film for Marvel? Well, the MCU‘s success might be unprecedented, but shakeups behind the scenes are not, and this is evident in who has been let go in those ten years. One might forget that both Disney and Marvel have a history of severing ties with talent when they feel that the studios’ overall vision doesn’t line up with the individual’s. Iron Man star Terence Howard‘s character James Rhodes/War Machine was recast with Don Cheadle in Iron Man 2. The original director of Ant-Man, Edgar Wright, was let go and replaced by Peyton Reed, who wound up directing both that film and its sequel. In the former situation, the actor was reportedly difficult to work with and made too many demands, and in the latter situation, the director’s creative vision didn’t align with that of the studio, so they were let go. But then there’s James Gunn. Gunn was apparently a charm to work with and he has been highly regarded by his cast and crew. Gunn’s vision for the Guardians of the Galaxy not only aligned with the studio’s vision, it surpassed it and enhanced it, and creatively he was responsible for two of Marvel‘s biggest hits. Marvel Studios‘ president Kevin Feige made it no secret that Gunn would be heavily involved with the future of the MCU, helping to spearhead it’s forward momentum and trajectory, much in the same way that Joss Whedon and brothers, Anthony Russo and Joe Russo have. When Gunn was fired last Summer for some highly inappropriate tweets from almost a decade ago, it sent shock waves through the industry, not least of all because professionally he had done nothing wrong.
The teaser poster for the 2014 film “Guardians of the Galaxy”.
James Gunn brought so much to the tone, aesthetics, and scope of that first Guardians of the Galaxy film. It would be hard to imagine anyone else stepping into that corner of the sandbox and creating anything comparable with what are essentially his toys. After his firing, the principal cast sent an open letter to the studio, respectfully asking that the studio let Gunn return as director. Tens of thousands of fans signed petitions. However, it looked unlikely that the director would be returning for the third (and final?) installment in the GotG trilogy. The one bright light in this whole dark drama was that Gunn’s recently completed screenplay for the film would still be used. For a while rumours circulated online of possible replacement directors who could step in to replace Gunn. At the top of the list were Nicole Pearlman and Taika Waititi. Nicole Pearlman was the original writer on the first Guardians of the Galaxy film before it was rewritten by James Gunn. The other choice, and the one that most fans seemed to flock to, was Thor: Ragnarok director Taika Waititi. In response to these rumours, Waititi made a statement, saying, “For me, those are James’ films. Going into something like that with his stamp all over his films, would be like going into someone’s house and saying ‘Hey, I’m your new dad, and this is how we make peanut butter sandwiches now. It feels kind of awkward. However, I’m still hanging out with those guys [at Marvel] and talking about new stuff. I want to do another movie with them.” Apparently Disney and Marvel ultimately agreed, because now Gunn has been reinstated as the director of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, but what does that say about the ethics of the companies?
That question isn’t easy to answer. If I had to sum it up, I would say that the bottom line is profit, and perhaps if there were two bottom lines, just above that would be prestige. Almost all decisions in Hollywood are determined by how much of a profit you can pull in and how much prestige your work can acquire in terms of critical appraisal and awards. Because of that, studios and the talents hired by them are often placed above certain moral expectations, and this is why Hollywood is often criticized for its lack of morality. The problem is that generalization really only applies to a select few people who have been highly visible due to the scandals that they’ve been involved. Hollywood scandals aren’t always, or even often, based upon a genuine interest in ethics. Many times scandals are concocted in order to bring down talented people. The motivations vary and range from professional jealousy to sexism and racism, from resentment over contracts to creative disputes, from personal grudges to political retaliation. And these Hollywood scandals are in no way new. They are just more widespread and quickly disseminated in the digital age.
When the silent film era was at its strongest in the late 1910s and into the early 1920s, Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle was falsely accused of raping Virginia Rappe. One of Rappe’s friends spread rumours about him raping her with an icicle and that her death was the result of Arbuckle’s weight on top of her. The doctor performing the autopsy denied there being any truth to these claims. Numerous witnesses countered the claims with their version of events where Arbuckle applied ice to her stomach while she was in pain. We know now that Rappe was suffering from medical complications arising from her alcohol consumption and peritonitis and that Arbuckle was trying to help her. The blatant lies that Rappe told were planned in an attempt extort money from Arbuckle. It ruined his career. Clara Bow also suffered similar treatment by the press. They were all fabricated for the sake of ruining her career. Some things don’t change.
Posted on June 25, 2018, the cover page of James Gunn’s screenplay for “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3”, which he called, “Every bit of my heart.”
Disney and Marvel came under a lot of fire when they severed ties with Gunn. This was because they knew about Gunn’s controversial tweets before they hired and then only fired him after they became well-known. That did nothing to give them any claims of taking the moral higher ground. Now they are receiving criticism from some people, most notable among them conservative actor James Woods, for having hired Gunn back. In my last write-up on this issue, I pointed out that Gunn probably should never have been hired based on his earlier social media presence and Disney‘s self-proclaimed values system, but given that the studios knew about his past and what he had said, firing him after the fact to save face was just hypocritical and facile. Now it appears all the more so since they have hired him back after Gunn’s six-month absence on social media. Interestingly, it’s been suggested by a number of sources that Marvel never really considered any other directors to replace Gunn, which may indicate that his firing to begin with was just a PR move. Whether it was always intended that he direct the film, even in the face of the backlash, it’s hard to say because the decision process has not been very transparent. What we do know is that James Gunn virtually disappeared from social media, ceasing to post on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter, until March 15, 2019. Then on that day, he posted a statement, one which sent fans into a frenzy, announcing that the decision had been reversed and that he would indeed be returning to direct the third GotG film.
The Pre-Raphaelite movement was the first movement or genre in art history that I was drawn to back when I was about twelve. It lead to a lifelong passion for the arts. I immediately fell in love with the works of Rossetti, Hunt, Millais, Burne-Jones, and Waterhouse. Their works collectively cast a spell on me that has held me in its sway ever since. I’ve frequently turned to my favourite works of art, literature, and film for poetic inspiration. In this case, it’s most evident, as I sought to evoke, or at least allude to, the imagery of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Particularly, I wanted to pay homage to Alexa Wilding, who was Rossetti’s muse, and whose face has become synonymous with Pre-Raphaelitism. Of all Rossetti’s major muses and models, Wilding is the least known about and this may be due to the fact tat she is the only one with whom there are no love letters to document a possible affair.
“Sibylla Palmifera” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1866-1870).
Alexa
‘Twas so easy to go over To just retrace the line To place the face of an angel Over the devil’s concubine Young Wilding was a beauty With her locks of flaming red Such deep eyes like an ocean Upon her my eyes have fed Her sweet lips full and scarlet No wonder she was Rossetti’s muse For those mundane pale and shudder By her exposure of their cold ruse In golden light she shone And lent her higher grace Yet the brush failed to possess The nuance of such an elusive face The subtlety and the complexity Gentle features hid them well And upon her brow, no worry Or else none that her heart would tell
“Lady Lilith” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1866-1868, altered 1872-1873).
The lines of the poem reference two paintings: Sibylla Palmifera and Lady Lilith. These two paintings were intended as companion pieces to one another. Alexa Wilding appears in both, however, Lady Lilith was originally painted with Rossetti’s previous muse, Fanny Cornforth, as its model. Five to seven years later, Rossetti altered the painting, placing Wilding’s face over Cornforth’s. This is referenced in the first four lines of the poem. Lilith, in Hebrew mythology, is the first wife of Adam who is banished from Eden after crying out the secret sacred name of God. She dwells in the desert lands outside of Eden and preys upon men given to temptation and feasts on the blood of innocents. She is the Queen of the Night, the Mother of Demons, and the First Vampire. During the Medieval period, Lilith’s myth was expounded upon and expanded, and she was dubbed the Devil’s Concubine, a title that was also applied to the Fallen Angels that followed Satan. The phrase was also uttered by the character of Van Helsing in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, the Francis Ford Coppola-directed adaptation of the late Victorian era Gothic novel Dracula to describe the character Lucy after she became a vampire. In the film, Lucy is depicted with long, flowing red hair, and her sexualized nature, in stark contrast to the virginal Mina, foreshadows her becoming a predatory creature of the night. This ties into Victorian ideas about femininity, which I have elucidated on in a number of essays, in which women were either seen as saints or sinners, as domesticated matrons or lowly prostitutes, as the Virgin Mary or Jezebel. Cornforth seems to fall into the latter category while Wilding falls into the former, at least in how Rossetti depicted them, and this makes his alteration of Lady Lilith all the more interesting because it stands out from the conventions he created around Wilding.
In the poem I also alluded to the sad reality that Cornforth went mad, was forced into a workhouse her sister-in-law, gradually losing her memory, becoming unable to carry on conversations, and finally living the last years of her life in an insane asylum. She died at age 74. As Rossetti’s muse and mistress, Cornforth went from being a celebrated muse and model, living in lush life to basically being exploited and eventually abandoned to her own insanity. As the original model for Lady Lilith, this somewhat echoed the fate of the mythological Lilith’s exile from the garden of Eden.
Alexa Wilding‘s own fate was just as tragic. She died around the age of 37, half the age of Cornforth, due to peritonitis and extreme exhaustion. While Cornforth had been voluptuous and represented the physical world and the body to Rossetti, Wilding’s depictions were more spiritual and ethereal, and she may have been seen as his ideal model, often embodying the soul itself. Rossetti’s last painting of Wilding was begun when she was only 27 and completed four years later. She would eventually be replaced as his muse by Jane Morris. He would die in 1882, just two years before Wilding in 1884, and she was said to place wreathes on the site of his grave.
Music + Visuals = Potency
At this point, one would be hard-pressed to find a person who hasn’t ever seen a music video or a portion of one during the course of their lives. Almost without exception we have all seen music videos, at some time or another, whether on MTV, VH1, BET, or YouTube. They have become not only an accepted part of the music industry but an almost mandatory staple of it. If you want to succeed commercially in music today, you have to adapt to this, and in 1981 with the launch of MTV, the music industry was introduced to one of its greatest assets as well as one of its greatest liabilities.
If one goes all the way back to Walt Disney‘s 1940 film, Fantasia, or even further back to the Silly Symphony cartoon series which began in 1929, it becomes immediately apparent that the marriage of visual imagery with music has proven to be a most formidable combination. Music can either be enhanced or diminished by an accompanying visual presentation. Some songs and some visuals mesh so spectacularly that one can barely hear the song without imagining its video counterpart. Take Star Wars for example, it’s almost impossible not to see the scrolling titles and prologue for the films in your mind’s eye whenever you hear John Williams‘ legendary theme, or to see an iconic character like Darth Vader without imagining the ominous theme of the Imperial March. Go on, give it a try. That’s just one obvious way that musical language and visual language can complement each other and create a link between one medium and another.
Now, take a look at music videos today, and most of them seem to have a singular purpose: to sell singles and albums. In this digital age, especially with the dwindling sales of physical music (since we’re on the subject I’ll take vinyl and CD over MP3 files any day), having a popular music video can make or break a career, even to the extent of a terrible song finding widespread fame and commercial success because the music video was so memorable. There are singers and musicians whose entire careers can be chalked up to the artwork and photographs on their albums or their music videos rather than on the quality of their music. Having grown up in the late ’80s and ’90s, I’ve seen this happen with bubblegum pop, teenybopper, boyband, and dance pop stars. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not living under the naïve delusion that once there was this grand past of substantive and enriching music videos, because no, there wasn’t. There are occasionally performers whose music videos elevate the medium from crass commercialism to high entertainment or even true art. Michael Jackson‘s Thriller, Kate Bush‘s Running Up That Hill, Peter Gabriel‘s Sledgehammer, Madonna‘s Like a Prayer, Nirvana‘s Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nine Inch Nails‘ Closer, TLC‘s Waterfalls, and The White Stripes‘ Fell in Love with a Girl are all examples of music videos whose visual aesthetics and narratives are more than just sales gimmickry. These are videos that attain artistry and relevance. They obtain renown, acclaim, and even controversy. They achieve immortality through the purity of their innovation.
Nine months ago, actor and musician Donald Glover, under his performing name of Childish Gambino, released a video for his latest single This Is America. The video immediately earned the same level of distinction as those aforementioned videos, because it is a singularly unique vision, as well as being a provocative, controversial, and riveting experience. Opening on an image of a black guitarist performing in a warehouse, the appearance of Glover dancing, and the shooting of the guitarist, whose face is now covered in a bag, in the head at point blank range, the video is openly confrontational in its effort to address racial violence. It continues and shows an all-black church chorus, singing and dancing in joyous and faithful celebration, before being gunned down, again by Glover, and then having their bodies unceremoniously dragged away and discarded. Forcing viewers to confront the harsh realities faced by black Americans every day and challenging long-held stereotypes, Glover’s song and its video present scenarios and raise questions, but intentionally leave the interpretation and the answers up to bewildered viewers.
Within 24 hours, the video for This Is America had received almost 13 million views, and at the time of writing this, the video has received over 484,500,000 views, with over 7.4 million viewers responding that they liked the video and 564 thousand expressing their dislike of it. Steeped in symbolism and allusions to current social crises, the video has become a lightning rod for controversy, and a hot topic among critics and commentators, most of whom praised its audacious visuals and metaphors. That said, the video has also received its share of reservations and critiques, with many of the criticisms focused on the abrupt and disturbing violence. Some viewers have seen it as a revolutionary statement on race relations and gun violence in the United States while others have accused it of reinforcing negative racial stereotypes. Some viewers have decried it as a pretentious mess of disjointed lyrical and visual content while others have hailed it as a masterpiece of Trap (a term for a form of hip-hop popular in the South and characterized by electronic beats, a dark or ominous energy, and scathing social commentary).
In terms of visibility, Donald Glover, as an actor, a writer, a producer, and a director, has been rising in prominence for some time now with his roles in 30 Rock, Community, Atlanta, The Martian, Spider-Man: Homecoming, and Solo: A Star Wars Story. Likewise his musical persona as Childish Gambino has risen as well, beginning with the melodic and confident rap of his first album Camp, continuing with his startlingly original follow-up album Because the Internet, and culminating in the brilliantly funky and psychedelic album “Awaken, My Love!”. And though it is true that singles like Bonfire, Crawl, and the Grammy-winning Redbone certainly stood out from anything else that was coming out of contemporary hip-hop or R&B at the time, the video for This Is America has managed to overshadow most of his other creative output as a hip-hop artist. Depending on how you look at it, this could be viewed as either a good or a bad thing, but it remains a fact. Topping the power of a strong single with an unforgettable music video will be a challenge for Gambino, but one that I think he is more than up for, and the result could be equally spectacular.
Gather ye ’round the graves tonight, For we shall dance in sweet remembrance We, the departed, worm-riddled, and decay’d, Who patiently lie in wait for our descendants. The drums of the Earth beat rhythm into the night, And by that solemn tempo are we guided O’er grassy knoll and o’er the bitter soil, Where for ages our ancestors have resided. Until the cock crows the coming of the morn, We dance in our blackened reverie, As the moon recedes and the sun ascends, Then is a new day birthed from ancient history.
While it’s a topic that I have often overlooked, fashion has been an undeniable stone in the foundation of both high and low culture, serving as a point at which the worlds of commerce, films, music, and art have all intersected. It has become impossible to explore any of these areas thoroughly without seeing how the world of fashion has overlapped with all of them. Whether it’s costume design for films and television series, the latest business suits for the bigwigs of industry, the wardrobe supplied for commercial photography and modelling, or the extravagant apparel of celebrities walking the red carpet, fashion is an integral element of the modern cultural zeitgeist. And in recent memory, but especially in the last two decades, it’s hard to find another fashion designer who has shaken things up as much as John Galliano.
Portrait of John Galliano by Jan Welters (2010).
Controversial designer John Galliano, head of Dior from 1996-2011, has often been referred to as “the rock star of fashion”. Like a rock star, Galliano’s designs have pushed the boundaries of the fashion world with their combination of his haute couture (high culture) fashion mindset and the more counterculture Goth and Punk do-it-yourself aesthetics. He has also courted controversy on numerous occasions, both for his designs, and for his outrageous statements. Galliano has also drawn considerable influence and inspiration from the world of Fine Art. This becomes particularly apparent in his Ready-to-Wear 1997 Fall line (aptly dubbed the “Siouxsie Sphinx” line), which combined imagery taken from Ancient Egyptian artworks and the styles of the Goth sub-culture that was cultivated by none other than Siouxsie Sioux of the Post-Punk/Goth-Pop band, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and for his Haute Couture Spring-Summer 2008 line, which built upon the themes and aesthetics of the aforementioned line and explored other influences.
Siouxsie Sioux
Galliano drew inspiration from Siouxsie Sioux, whose own fashion aesthetics were a mix of the black leather, metal spikes, dog collars, and tousled hair of Punk, the fishnet stockings and garters of the Cabaret dancer, and the theatricality of Kabuki performance with its luxurious silk robes, pale facial makeup, heavy eyeliner, and dark lipstick. Another important aspect of Siouxsie’s style was her love of the artworks of the German Expressionists and the artists of the Vienna Secession, most notably Gustav Klimt. The influence of Klimt’s work is most apparent on Siouxsie and the Banshees’ 1982 album A Kiss in the Dream House, which as an aside is often considered the band’s greatest artistic achievement in their early Post-Punk days, and, along with a trio of albums by pioneering Goth-Pop band The Cure, helped to establish the sound of the Alternative and Goth genres as distinct from the umbrella terms “New Wave” and “Post-Punk”. Sioux’s style was a combination of Punk, New Romantic, and the emerging Goth, and it would rise in prominence throughout the late ’70s and ’80s, and help give birth to the Goth look of the ’90s adopted by Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, and others.
Siouxsie and the Banshees’ seminal 1982 album, “A Kiss in the Dreamhouse”, is arguably the band’s greatest achievement.
Looking even further into the progression of influence and inspiration, Gustav Klimt was moved to emulate much of what he admired in the artworks of the Ancient Byzantines and Greeks, with their lavish mosaics, recurring geometric patterns (of triangles, squares, and spirals), and bright flourishes of gold leaf. Klimt’s art, more of which can be seenHERE, was striking in its modern style and yet still incorporated ancient elements, resulting in something that felt both timeless and fresh. Klimt’s work was considered controversial and subversive when he, along with artists Koloman Moser and Max Kurzweil, and architects Joseph Hoffman and Joseph Maria Olbrich began the movement known as the Vienna Secession. The group’s motto was “Der Zeit ihre Kunst. Der Kunst ihre Freiheit.” (English trans. “To every age its art. To every art its Freedom.”)
“The Kiss” by Gustav Klimt (1808-1909).
This motto accurately reflects Galliano’s attitude towards fashion as well. We can best see the effects of these various stylistic progenitors in Galliano’s opulent and elegant dress from the Haute-Couture Spring-Summer line in 2008. Here one can see echoes of Siouxsie Sioux and the Banshees, Gustav Klimt, and classical works of art and design from the Byzantine tradition. Much like a garment made from different materials, which are cultivated and gathered from different places, then carefully dyed, cut, and sown together following the plans of a designer, these seemingly disparate influences and inspirations all come together via the direction of creative peoples. Seeing this progression forwards and backwards through time not only hits home just how much art and culture is reverberated throughout the ages, but also how art in one form, the visual arts, can impact art in other forms, music, performance, and fashion.
Galliano’s Look 38 from the Haute Couture Spring-Summer Collection, 2008.
Currently some of Galliano’s most spectacularly flamboyant designs, including the one featured in the photo above, are on view until March 3, 2019 at the Denver Art Museum as part of the special exhibition Dior: From Paris to the World, of which the Denver Art Museum is the sole location. If you’re interested in seeing more of Galliano’s Siousxie Sioux and Gustav Klimt-inspired designs for Dior, please follow these links to slideshow of his 1997 Ready-to-Wear Fall line and his 2008 Haute Couture Spring-Summer line on the Vogue website: John Galliano’s Fall 1997 Ready-to-Wear Line for Dior John Galliano’s Spring-Summer 2008 Haute Couture Line for Dior
From its opening in 1947 being protested for its extreme opulence during post-WWII austerity measures to its use of cultural misappropriation in the many themes for each fashion line, from the small size of both its dresses and its models to claims of plagiarism, the house of Dior has been no stranger to controversy. But nothing has been quite so controversial as a series of highly insensitive, violent, and anti-Semitic remarks made by John Galliano, which lead to his subsequent firing as the fashion company’s Creative Director. Galliano had held the position for almost fifteen years at the time of his termination. The reason behind it were ultimately two separate incidents when Galliano, who was drunk on both occasions, made some pretty horrific statements to patrons of a cafe in Paris, and then later again in the same cafe where the incident was caught on video and shared online. In the video, Galliano said, “I love Hitler. People like you would be dead today, your mothers, your forefathers would be fucked gassed, and fucking dead.” Galliano’s remarks were made in France, where it is illegal to make racist statements or to promote fascism, and so he was arrested, and his Legion of Honour medal revoked.
Ironically, much of the artwork that Galliano took inspiration from, be it the work of Odilon Redon, Edvard Munch, or Gustav Klimt, was part of a trend of radical artistic reinvention in Europe in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a trend largely born of Jewish intellectualism, and one that Hitler would denounce as Entartete Kunst: degenerate art. Greater irony, still, is that Galliano, a Gibraltar-born citizen of Britain, and a homosexual man, would also have found his own works banned and himself imprisoned by the Nazi regime.
Since his firing, Galliano has had a temporary residency for fashion designer Oscar de la Renta in 2013, and then in 2014 he became the Creative Director for Maison Margiela.
You know, I have to question the ethical well-being of any society where someone comes forth with claims of having been violated, where the immediate response is anger, doubt, and suspicion. When a person undergoes trauma that trauma is real and substantial, regardless of whether their claims are, and that person should be heard and listened to. This is true regardless of the specifics. If a person, of any age, gender, or race, has the courage and the conviction to stand before another person and say, “This is my story. This is what I experienced. This happened to me,” we should pay attention and we should pay respect. There is nothing easy about lowering your defenses after being violated. Trauma has a way of rooting itself deep within the psyché and restricting an individual’s ability to be vulnerable. The strength and the determination required to approach someone else, without knowing if you will be heard, if you will be believed, and if you will be seen differently, is tremendous. To expose yourself in that moment of vulnerable confession and acknowledge what happened to you is one of the most courageous things that a survivor of trauma can do. You’re opening up psychological wounds each time you share your story. It hurts. A lot. Whether those wounds heal or not is largely dependent upon the support system you have around you and whether people, in general, are able to offer their trust and confidence in your experience. Knowing that you are heard and believed is in no small part the first step in rebuilding your life and finding empowerment.
When the trauma that you’ve experienced is of a sexual nature, the wounds are all the more deep, and the emotional consequences all the more complex. The reason for this is that you not only experienced hell, but someone intentionally inflicted that hell upon you, because they were either oblivious to the consequences that it would have for you (as well as for themselves), or worse, they did not care. It’s impossible to say with certainty what goes on in the mind of an abusive personality when they violate another person, how they justify themselves, how they invalidate an entire other person’s consciousness, denying their right to physical and emotional security. Do the ramifications of their violence occur to them? Are they so insular and egocentric that they are only aware of their perception and their feelings throughout the whole act? What do they think and feel afterward? Is there guilt, regret, or remorse? These thoughts may not go through the mind of every sexual predator, but they are a constant for every survivor, which is partly why it is so challenging to confront your abuser and tell your story. Something has already been taken away from you and you have been held in very little regard. The fear of coming forward and sharing that with someone who might take more away and hold you in equally low or even lower regard is terrifying. It brings back the sense of being probed, violated, and having your power stripped away.
It astounds me, truly astounds me, the insensitivity and cruelty that survivors are forced to endure when their trauma is played out in the media for all to see. The way that women, in particular, have been scrutinized and made to relive their trauma just so that they can seek justice is itself unjust. Despite the outrage that such proceedings elicit, the same unfolding events happen again and again, the pattern persists, and people go about their business; news as usual. Interestingly, because of the role that patriarchy plays in society, when men come forth with claims of having experienced sexual abuse, the response is almost without exception to believe them. The horrific logic seems to go something along the lines of, “That’s such a shameful secret for a man to keep, so if he’s willing to admit to such an unmanly shame, then it must be true.” Yet because we do live in a society where women are seen as less-than, we somehow find it, if not less unacceptable, at least less surprising when a woman experiences sexual abuse. “It’s a pity, and we feel bad about it, but that’s just a thing that sometimes happens when you’re a woman.” What’s infuriating is that this double standard of belief/disbelief and empowerment/disenfranchisement is perpetuated by both men and women. Accountability for the creation and perpetuation of this rape culture must be shared… by all who live in it. When someone states that they have been violated, in any manner, it is our civic duty to take that statement seriously, to extend our empathy and sympathy, and to help them.
Recently we saw a terrible drama play out on the stage of our national media, wherein a woman claimed that she had been sexually violated by a man, by an incumbent Supreme Court Justice no less, and while many poured out their support for her and her profound testimony, others fell right into the predictable pattern of victim-blaming. Then, of course, there was the usual propping of the alleged perpetrator. So often is the case that we see the accuser torn down, their testimony all but ignored, and their intentions questioned. They are forced to walk through a relentless gauntlet of scrutiny, mockery, and character assassination. “She likes rough sex. She wouldn’t dress like that if she didn’t want it. Everyone knows she slept around. She drank and did drugs. She set herself up for that kind of thing. It’s no great secret.” Meanwhile we hear the opposite treatment of the accused. “Yeah, I knew him, and he’s a good guy. I never saw any behaviour like that in our time together. We joked around and stuff, but everyone knew that was it; they were just jokes. Guys say stuff like that all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.” This is the very foundation of rape culture, and regardless of a person’s politics or their sex, it has to be stopped.
This is why I cannot accept Brett Kavanaugh as a nominee to Supreme Court Justice and why I fully support a thorough and impartial investigation into his behaviours and his past. It’s not because I know one way or another of his innocence or guilt. It’s because accountability must be taken. Justice must be served. We cannot ignore allegations like these, especially when they pertain to an individual who is being placed into a position of significant power within our nation, and we cannot ignore or dismiss the testimony of Christine Blasey Ford.
One way or another, something has happened, and either an accuser is not speaking factually or the accused isn’t, but the very fact that an accusation was made, the very fact that someone came forth must be treated with the utmost severity and magnitude. This takes courage. This takes strength. And it must be taken most seriously. It must be taken seriously, not just because someone may be at fault, but because someone may have been horribly wronged. An allegation of this kind has merit, whether they allegation is true or not, because it brings attention to the fact that someone needs help. Either someone has survived a terrible, traumatic assault, and that person needs the support of the community in their emotional recovery, as well as in seeking justice, or someone has spoken falsely, either knowingly lying or unknowingly shared a delusion that they have experienced, and that person needs to be taken just as seriously and still given the support and help of the community. Nowhere within a healthy society should a person who has experienced trauma, the cause of it be real or imagined, find themselves reliving that trauma or humiliated furthermore by being mocked and disbelieved. This is not how you treat a person in pain, whether the cause of that pain is internal or external, and the lack of empathy extended to that person is the very same lack of empathy that enables one person to victimize another. Whenever someone victim-blames, they become an accessory in their trauma, and that accountability must be acknowledged too. If you mock or disbelieve a survivor, you are an accessory to their abuse, and you help to perpetuate rape culture.
Personally, and regardless of my own political affiliations, of Ford’s political affiliations, and of Kavanaugh’s political affiliations, I found his carriage to be less than worthy of a judge. While I can rightfully understand the full emotional spectrum that a person would experience under false accusations, I still found Kavanaugh’s responses to be incredibly dismissive and disrespectful towards Ford, and the egregious lack of acknowledgement and accountability of his own immature behaviour to be disconcerting. Confusion and frustration are normal responses to being falsely accused. Heck, even anger is a normal and healthy response, but what I saw from Kavanaugh was more than any of that. It was entitlement, it was false indignation, and it was maliciousness and spite. Whether or not he raped Ford, his testimony showed him to be a poor choice for a judge, and a very poor choice for a Supreme Court Justice.
Below is a poem I wrote that expresses how I feel on the matter, specifically in the case of Ford and Kavanaugh, but also generally about the dilemma of whom to believe, and why listening and remaining open-minded is so important in stopping assault.
“I Solemnly Swear”
(In)Justice Kavanaugh Why does she seem to be so serious? This is just a game, he says to himself But that notion’s so antiquated And his whole view is so egocentric How can he be so distant from the world
I don’t understand all the confusion How could you even draw a parallel This is not a cry for retribution Holding him accountable is not revenge The world is a safer place without men like him
You worry about his future But she lost hers to the past You say this will ruin his life But hers was in pieces
If this was all about getting attention Why is he the one who’s crying now It seems like a role reversal The aggressor puts on a mask of victimhood And the jury sighs and turns away While the judge proclaims there’s not enough evidence So both parties will disperse, but I wonder Whose reputation is the worse for wear after this
And if a woman’s rights Are just the rights of a man Then who decides what’s happening? And just as Kavanaugh Became Justice Kavanaugh And a woman’s rights Are just the same as the Rights of Man Would this keep on happening? Justice Kavanaugh Now this is injustice, Kavanaugh
Why would anyone trust someone so angry? And look how she’s dressed, I think it’s obvious But these statements aren’t validation And there’s no excuse for such violence How can you defend the indefensible?!
I don’t understand your curt dismissal Or how you fail to feel their conviction I’m not asking for an execution But I don’t want to see that man walking free Still you empower him and place her under scrutiny
You say his career is on the line But what she had can’t be regained You say that this is cruel and unfair But equality was overruled that day
Shut her up, shut her up, shut her up She’s lying like they all do when they want power Does anyone really think along those lines As if power is something we should be limiting As if men should be the only bearers of autonomy And women should remain dutiful, submissive, subservients? How could this really even be happening Questioning the survivor and assuming nothing happened?
And if a woman’s rights
Are just the rights of a man
Then who decides what’s happening?
And just as Kavanaugh
Became Justice Kavanaugh
And a woman’s rights
Are just the same as the Rights of Man
Would this keep on happening?
Justice Kavanaugh
Now this is injustice, Kavanaugh
Over the years a number of songs and poems have grown out of my experiences with poverty and homelessness, both from the sides of having lived on the streets and from working with/for different organizations to aid the homeless, and this song is merely one of them. All too often, especially for people living on the margins, simply knowing you’ve been seen and acknowledged can be the beginning of healing and empowerment. The lyrics describe and invoke not only my own personal thoughts and feelings as I had them during those hard times, but they also I think sum up the thoughts and feelings of others who have lived in similar circumstances, and so I hope will provide some sense of camaraderie and even catharsis to those living it as a reality right now wherever they may be. If this song can at the very least raise awareness or empathy or give a voice to the voiceless then that is more than enough.
Sleeping in the Snow. A comrade of the streets sleeping beneath the snowfall of a blizzard that dropped half a foot of snow. Photo taken February 1, 2015.
Can’t Go Up In a melancholy urgency I crawl out of my cocoon Pick myself up out of the ooze Take a gaze up at the moon Grizzled in appearance Unshaven and eyes faded Got change to spare he asks I say, ‘Change is complicated’
The melody of the night Does nothing to soothe my mood My senses are assaulted by the street This awakening’s so rude The broken sound of sirens The tempo of marching feet Copter blades flashing in the sky Cops lined up and down the side of the street
I slide into these holy jeans My pockets full of nothing Barefoot on broken glass and concrete Already I can feel my soul is chafing Newspaper rolls in clusters Crumpled pages from a bum’s diary Littered rolled papers with buds of weed Tumbleweeds and crumbling daydreams
Sky up above full of smoke The stale scent of urine and feces Heaviness in the cold city air The state of things so hard to breathe All these sickly sensations And all these sounds and sights Recycled and regurgitated Just so I can have four more lines
And what am if not a failure When you come down to it This is my empire of the homeless This is my kingdom of unwanted, broken shit So, how am I supposed to rise up How am I supposed to thrive When social mobility is downward And it takes everything I have just to survive
The lines to the shelter are growing The benefits are being cut The doors to all the churches are locked And for us all doors of opportunity are shut So, who am I supposed to be My education’s going to waste And of success I’ve no experience Because life’s got a bitter taste
Fairness is illusion, okay Justice protects the crime Victims go to prison, baby And I don’t have the time The roof overhead’s collapsing The walls are all closing in The economy’s rebounding, they say But where did that begin
I’m rolling on the sour carpet Made of nails and dust and cum Of leaves and rust and old blankets And what have I become I am nothing but invisible To all you yuppie fucks I am past my breaking point So goodbye, farewell, good luck
Sleeping on the Grates. Me catching some sleep outside the church where I volunteered in the early hours of the morning. Photo taken June 27, 2014.
Dear Humans… Dear Humans, I know you care deep down All of your anger and all your protests Tell me just how far you have come around
Dear Humans, I know you need some relief All of the troubles and all your problems Stem from the same misplaced, ill-begotten belief
Dear Humans, I know you want to belong Even though you shit all over yourselves You still have the chance to right this wrong
Dear Humans, I know you have the will to do Even as the bodies add up in piles You still cling to a lie and you claim that it’s true
Thoughts and prayers Never again So sick and tired Of the same refrain The clichéd platitudes Send my condolences But does it change anything
Hugs and kisses Get better So sick and tired Of the same old words The dishonest well-wishers And all of their crocodile tears Are no better than gems on swords
There’s no problem You just want freedom The right to carry And the right to choose But the death toll Only grows greater And it’s not like it’s up to you To bury the bodies Or say the farewells You just play the game And you roll the dice Sign your name Propose the measure What it reaps Well, oh come now, never mind
Dear Humans, I know you don’t want to die But I’ve watched you from above now In my kingdom of the clouds up in the sky
Dear Humans, I know that you are all sorry For all the wicked things that you do Now the time has come for your apology
Dear Humans, I know that redemption is here So say your farewells, your “I love yous” Because I am going to shed this, my final tear
Then comes judgement Death is my mercy I forgive you all for this For your murders, your policies Broken promises, drones of death Burnt forests without life left This is your legacy
Then comes annihilation Pain is your purity I can absolve you of your sins For your selfishness, your greed Rebuilt palaces, banks overflowing Homeless bodies litter the street This is your litany
There’s no problem You just want money The right to earn And the right to take What you deserve Is always growing And it’s not as if you don’t Ever give a little back Or smile for the camera You just play the game And you roll the dice Put your name up In big, bold letters What you build Will come to ruin; all falls apart in time
With these words, I condemn With these words, I liberate All of you Humans From the Earth The stain that I made Upon Creation My greatest folly My greatest mistake I now correct with annihilation For you there is no time left There is no need for worry No need for panic or dread I will reset the whole world I’ll wipe the slate clean Sincerely, your God
Isn’t it funny how the people that cling to apocalyptic faith fulfill their own prophecies right up until the point of the great disappointment? It becomes tiresome seeing the same adherents to so-called Christianity commit the same sins of greed and judgement that their Christ had warned them about. They speak of all these dangers to the mortal soul and then embrace them. I often wonder, with my characteristic pessimism, if it’s not all some innate predisposition towards self-destruction. I truly am beginning to accept that the same people who hold high this prophet of peace, love, and understanding, that they ultimately do so only to hold themselves up in his celebrated company and to feel chosen, to feel special and sanctified despite their own sins and their own guilt. When I look at our president, and by “our president” I claim no ownership of his presidency and no allegiance to his constituents, all I see is a man so in awe of himself that he will destroy the country and then use its blood and ashes to polish his golden palace. How anyone who rejects worldliness, greed, lust, or ambition can place that man on a pedestal, coming from a religion that also reject idolatry, is beyond comprehension; it’s appalling and repugnant.
Introduction The invention of the photograph was so much more than a mere technological innovation. It enabled the human species to graphically document their own existence while simultaneously allowing photographers the unique ability to express themselves in a manner that forced the viewer to experience their perspective. This kind of multi-faceted engagement with the viewer created a level of intellectual stimulation, and often provocation, as well as emotional stimulation, and sometimes manipulation, that carried with it the power to shape our perception of individuals and events. Lives were forever captured on film and preserved. Occurrences were frozen in time for all the world to see and to study. And ideas were proliferated through print.
Indeed, it’s said that a picture is worth a thousand words, maybe even more depending on the picture, but more importantly, what words and how they are expressed is ultimately what determines their effect on us. Whether a photo accurately reflects its subject matter is largely dependent on the context in which we see it and how the image is in turn stored in our memories. Equally important is the intent of its author, the photographer, and how the photo is treated after its taken, whether its colours are heightened or muted, or whether the image had been cropped. Each alteration to the image can reveal so much about both the photographer’s own mindset and what they want viewers to see.
Collected here are some of the most iconic and socially significant photographs of the 20th Century and the stories behind them. While I am sharing these primarily with the intention of education, some of these images are graphic and may be considered disturbing, so view them at your own discretion.
My grandparents in front of their old home in Maine (2001).
Grandparents Gone, an Elegy
It didn’t make it any easier to grieve When you ceased to be yourselves Having trouble recalling memories You even went forgetting who I am
All you wanted was to go for a walk around Falling down, struggling to get back up When the world around you was unstable I tried to lift you but I wasn’t strong enough
And the photos in the albums start to fade And the souvenirs gather dust upon the shelf And the flowers are left wilting in the vase And the rooms grow emptier each passing day And the clean laundry blowing in the breeze And the sea shells no longer smell like the sea All these things coming back to me in stages Hitting me just like a succession of waves
Remember the books you used to read As I sat contently upon your lap Hanging on every word you would say Wondering what would come next
Those family dinners you would host for us And walks down by the lake at twilight The treasured stories you retold each time Desserts you’d serve no one really liked
And the same embarrassing anecdotes And the laughter at things inappropriate And the grass clippings sitting on the lawn And the batteries you stored in the fridge And the coupons overwhelming your wallet And the stamps in the folders in your closet All these things coming back to me in stages Hitting me just like a succession of waves
It’s said that a picture is worth a thousand words. This may or may not be accurate, in part depending on the picture, but also in part depending on the imagination and sensitivities of the viewer. Some images dictate to us the thoughts of their creator or evoke a particular emotional response. Some images tell an entire story or create from within our own psyche a story that we need to tell to ourselves; a bedtime fairy tale for the conscious as told by the subconscious. These stories come to us in vague imaginings or vivid dreams, and settle within the foundation of our personalities, shaping our continual personal and societal growth. Whether it’s the origin of a myth and the archetypes that proliferate throughout numerous countries and cultures or the dreams that we share together of our own fears, fantasies, and aspirations, the image contained within the mind’s eye is perhaps the most powerful and radical in changing us. It is the internal revelation that precedes the external revolution.
“Melora” by Kahn & Selesnick (2013, inkjet print, edition 5, Denver Art Museum acquisition 2015.309, gift of Jennifer Doran and Jim Robischon of the Robischon Gallery and an anonymous patron). The image, beautiful, evocative, and haunting, is also not without a sense of whimsy. And it tells a tale, but what that tale is seems to depend entirely on the viewer’s own perspective and preconceptions.
Sometimes you can walk past an image and not really see it. Other times you can walk past an image and see it, but not necessarily see it as it is, or in the case of a work of art, see it as it was intended. Other times still, you walk up to an image and something uncanny happens as you make a connection, simultaneously seeing and processing the image while getting the sense that the minds behind its creation can see you in return. This has been the case for me with the work of a number of photographers, but most recently, it’s the work of Nicholas Kahn and Richard Selesnick that has been speaking to me. And I’ve been listening with eyes wide open.
I work in an art museum, and part of my job is to ensure the safety of the visitors and the art, but there’s more to it than just that, because as one of many individuals who roam the galleries, I play an integral role in introducing works of art to the public and thus helping to contextualize in their minds what art is and what it can convey. Many times now I’ve been asked what does this painting mean, or what is the purpose of that modern sculpture, or how was this image created. Occasionally there are clear-cut answers, which usually are the result of having familiarity with an artist’s work or the resources to research the details of their lives, and other times the best I can do is to offer a series of interpretations and let the visitor decide which one resonates with them. When asked about Kahn & Selesnick’s poetic photograph, Melora, I have to stop and ask myself if I am offering the artists’ perspective or my own, but furthermore, I have to question if there is indeed a difference, because with some works of art there is an invitation to explore and interpret the work only from the vantage point of a spectator.
One visitor at the art museum asked if the photograph was a statement on the environment and our collective need to be closer to nature. Is Melora returning to the wild to live in symbiosis with the land and animals? Another asked if there was some mystical meaning and if Melora was a shape-shifter. Is Melora undergoing some symbolic transformation or even a physical metamorphosis? One visitor even asked as to the identity of Melora. Is Melora the deer or the woman? To this last question, the answer is at least a bit more straightforward, because Melora is the name of the model. Artist Melora Kuhn, a friend of Kahn & Selesnick, posed for the photograph and lent her name to its title. The photo was taken on her property.
A detail from Kahn & Selesnick’s “Melora”. Here we can see the details of Melora’s hair and her antlers.
As a feminist and a student of both art history and psychology, I look at Melora and I see an archetype, and I see an exploration of femininity. I see a woman wearing fashion of the late Victorian Era, an era of both technological progress and gender repression, of reverence for the ideal of feminine beauty and restrictive social roles where a woman’s innate power was suppressed. The woman moves out of industrialism and into nature, out of the rigid social strata of her time and into a realm of female liberation, and this is most abundantly clear by the antlers on her head. When visitors initially ask me what the image means, the first thing I suggest they look at is her antlers, because neither female elk or deer typically have antlers. Yet here is Melora, a seemingly human woman, striding into a field where a stag stands amidst the tall grass, its gaze meeting hers, and Melora’s antlers are equal to, perhaps even rival to, that of the stag. She appears to me to be a woman who is leaving behind her own world of gender roles and class, where she is seen and treated as a subordinate and objectified, and entering into the world of the wild. There she can adopt an independence and a strength that civilization would deny women and there she can be an equal to her male counterpart. She is seeking gender equity by abandoning the world that has attempted to reduce her to domesticity. This is, of course, just my own interpretation.
A detail from Kahn & Selesnick’s “Melora”. Many viewers at first struggle to find the deer staring back at her.
Interestingly, the reindeer is one of the only species of deer in which the female grows antlers, though not all of them do, because in harsh environments where food sources are scarce, the growing of antlers expends a great deal of energy and nutrients. While the male reindeer uses its antlers to fight other reindeer for social dominance, the female reindeer uses her antlers to move through heavy snows and to fight for food, and while male reindeer shed their antlers in the late Autumn and grow them back in the Spring, the female reindeer retains her antlers through the Winter and sheds them in Spring. So, in this sense, male reindeer use their antlers to enforce their superiority over one another, whereas the female reindeer has antlers so that she can adapt to the world around her. This independence and self-reliance can be viewed from an evolutionary angle, and one could discuss biologically how reindeer differ from other bovids, but from a social perspective, this makes reindeer almost eerily familiar. There is something there that we can relate to as humans.
At the time when I first saw Kahn & Selesnick’s Melora, I happened to be writing a number of essays on evolving gender roles in society throughout the ages, and during the research phases of these projects, I found myself repeatedly gravitating towards the work of Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés, a celebrated poet, Jungian psychoanalyst, and trauma recovery specialist. Her works, particularly Women Who Run with the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype, were instrumental in introducing ideas and concepts that informed how I viewed Melora.
Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ “Women Who Run with the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype” and “Tales from the Brothers Grimm”.
“Yet even in an oppressive culture, in whichever women the Wild Woman still lives and thrives or even glimmers, there will be “key” questions asked, not only the ones we find useful for insight into ourselves but also ones about our culture. “What stands behind those proscriptions I see in the outer world? What goodness or usefulness of the individual, of the culture, of the earth, of human nature has been killed, or lies dying here?” As these issues are examined, the woman is enabled to act according to her own abilities, according to her own talents. To take the world into one’s arms and to act toward it in a soul-filled and soul-strengthening manner is a powerful act of wildish spirit. It is for this reason that the wildish nature in women must be preserved—and even, in some instances, guarded with extreme vigilance—so that it is not suddenly abducted and garroted. It is important to feed this instinctive nature, to shelter it, to give it increase, for even in the most restrictive conditions of culture, family, or psyche, there is far less paralysis in women who have remained connected to the deep and wild instinctual nature. Though there be injury if a woman is captured and/or tricked into remaining naive and compliant, there is still left adequate energy to overcome the captor, to evade it, to outrun it, and eventually to sunder and render it for their own constructive use.” – Clarissa Pinkola Estés
The image of a woman in the wild, outrunning predators, outrunning the unwanted attentions and advances of men only to be tricked, recalls the Greek myth of Atalanta. In the tale, a beautiful huntress and priestess, Atalanta, takes a vow of celibacy in the name of Artemis, goddess of the hunt, of the moon, and of virginity. Atalanta was said to have been abandoned by her father, Iasus, left to die on a mountaintop, because her father would accept only a male heir. Like Artemis, Atalanta has sworn off all relationships with men, and she develops into an untamed beauty, self-possessed, strong, and uncompromising. Raised in the wilderness, according to some versions of the myth, by female bears, Atalanta developed a fierce wildness and could live off the land independent of so-called civilization. Other versions of the myth say that she was found by hunters who raised her as they would have raised a boy, teaching her to fend for herself, and to rely on her strength and her mind rather than just her beauty. She was said to challenge men, including the hero Peleus, to wrestling matches and would easily overpower them.
When two centaurs attempted to rape her, she defended not only her body, but her sacred vow to Artemis, and she slew them. In doing so, she gained Artemis’ favour, and she would later serve as her proxy in the legendary hunt for the Calydonian Boar. After King Oeneus forgot to make an offering to Artemis at the time of the harvest sacrifices, Artemis let loose a monstrous boar upon his kingdom, and this boar plagued the local farmers and destroyed the crops. Many of the bravest of heroes and hunters gathered together, even going so far in their hubris to place bets as to whom would succeed in killing the fearsome boar, but none of the men took Atalanta seriously as a contender. No, they either dismissed her altogether or they were outright angered by her mere presence intruding upon their fraternal display of ego, and Atalanta was only at last permitted to accompany them when one of the hunters, the hero Meleager, convinced his fellow men to allow her. He did so only because he lusted after and coveted her. The fact that he was already married was of no relevance in his decision, and Atalanta’s vow of celibacy, no deterrent to his desires. He would ensure that she was present when he killed the boar if only to win her affections. But that was not the way of it, and many of the hunters were brutally killed by the boar, and others fought among themselves and murdered one another, and when few of them remained alive and unscathed, it was not Meleager’s spear that drew the boar’s blood; it was Atalanta’s well-aimed arrow that brought the boar down. The boar, however, still lived and was only incapacitated. Not to be outdone, the conceited Meleager then killed the boar, but instead of giving it as a sacrificial offering to Artemis, as would have been proper, he gifted it to Atalanta instead. Still she would not be won.
Atalanta’s adventures did not end there. After achieving fame during the hunt for the Calydonian Boar, Atalanta and her estranged father were reunited, and as women were viewed as the property of either their fathers or their husbands throughout much of the ancient world, Iasus was determined to capitalize on her celebrity and marry her off. Her intelligence being no less than her physical prowess, Atalanta set forth a challenge that whomsoever could beat her in a race could have her as his wife, knowing all too well that no man could run as fast as she. However, the goddess of love, Aphrodite, intervened on the behalf of Hippomenes, because Aphrodite felt slighted by Atalanta’s repudiation of love. She gave Hippomenes three golden apples with which he was to distract Atalanta during the race. Each time he passed her, knowing full well that he could not maintain her speed, he would drop one of the golden apples. She managed to surpass him after the first two apples, but when Hippomenes dropped the third and final apple, Atalanta stopped to appraise it and Hippomenes outdistanced her and won the race, becoming her husband.
In viewing Melora, I am also reminded of Frida Kahlo, one of my favourite artists. Kahlo, who in a 1946 self-portrait, depicted herself as a wounded deer with antlers, lived a rich and complex life, and possessed character as rich and complex as her work. Kahlo experienced profound pain throughout her life beginning with a trolley accident in which she was impaled by a rail. Impalement, literally and metaphorically, would become a recurring theme in her work, as would her relationship to nature and animals. In The Wounded Deer, the two themes are united, as Kahlo, realizes herself with both male and female attributes, which has been theorized as representing her masculine and feminine sides as well as her bisexuality. While her face remains stoic, almost reminiscent of the Sphinx or the Mona Lisa, her body is pierced with nine arrows, revealing her anguish.
“The Wounded Deer” by Frida Kahlo (1946, collection of Carolyn Farb).
Frida famously began an affair with muralist Diego Rivera, which lead to their eventual marriage in 1929, but the relationship would prove to be as volatile as it was passionate, and he was incapable of remaining faithful to her. In turn, as a bisexual feminist, defiant, bold, and as desirous as he, she embraced Rivera’s polyamourous lifestyle, taking both men and women as her lovers. Still, Rivera’s affairs left her deeply hurt at times, and often seething, especially when Rivera slept with her younger sister, Cristina. This would inspire Kahlo’s 1937 painting, Memory, the Heart, in which Kahlo depicts herself caught between the Earth representing her family and the sea representing the inconstant Rivera and his many infidelities. Surrounding her, aspects of her personality, including a modern school outfit alluding to her education in European politics and paternal heritage and a traditional dress alluding to her Mexican home and maternal heritage, are strewn about and she is pierced through the chest by an elongated arrow.
“Memory, the Heart” by Frida Kahlo (1937, collection of Michel Petitjean).
Frida Kahlo‘s work is harrowing, sensual, and primal in a way that even if one does not understand the symbols, motifs, and references she utilized, the emotions she was expressing are universal; they are as clear and vibrant as her palette. She was rebelling against pretension and propriety as much as she was against capitalism and sexism. She lived in the moment, in a way counter-intuitively, throwing herself recklessly into her life, allowing herself to be hurt and immersing herself in her pain, channeling that pain back into her work, and then stripping down to her most vulnerable and exquisite self in order to do it all over again.
Which brings me to Amanda Palmer, Amanda fucking Palmer to her fans, who is also a fierce feminist willing to put herself out there again and again, to be hurt, and to lay her life bare for the honesty of her expression. Amanda’s attitude, her modus operandi, and philosophy can be summed up as “in your face vulnerability”. She seeks empowerment through connection, through creativity, through nakedness, through wildness, but above all through vulnerability. She’s the kind of artist who will walk out on stage in the nude, her legs and armpits unshaven, her eyebrows shaved off and then drawn back on, her belly and breasts exposed, and declare to the world, “This is me.” She’s the kind of woman who breastfeeds in public, and when confronted about will reply, without skipping a beat, “I’m a mother.” She’s the kind of writer who will show up to a book signing in her pajamas, put together a makeshift blanket fort, and explain it all by simply saying, “I had the worst flight from L.A..“
The image for Amanda Palmer’s single “Machete”. Photograph by Allan Amato, 2016.
That’s Amanda… fucking… Palmer. When I think of Amanda, I think of the quote below, a quote that embodies a philosophy that I myself have prescribed to for sometime, and which I find all the more refreshing hearing it from someone so undaunted.
“The perception that vulnerability is weakness is the most widely accepted myth about vulnerability and the most dangerous. When we spend our lives pushing away and protecting ourselves from feeling vulnerable or from being perceived as too emotional, we feel contempt when others are less capable or less willing to mask feelings, suck it up, and soldier on. We’ve come to the point where, rather than respecting and appreciating the courage and daring behind vulnerability, we let our fear and discomfort become judgement and criticism.” – Amanda Palmer
It’s coincidental, funny, and just a bit odd to me that when I look at Kahn & Selesnick’s Melora, the first person that always came to mind was Amanda Palmer, whose creative output I have admired since I first found out about The Dresden Dolls in the first half of 2003. I look at Melora and what I am reminded of is Amanda’s first solo album, Who Killed Amanda Palmer?, and how her unique style left such an impression on me. Her aesthetic, an alchemical mixture of Victorian Era fashion, Weimar Era cabaret, Punk and Goth helped to define what has been called Dark Cabaret since the early 2000s.
The cover for Amanda Palmer’s solo album debut, “Who Killed Amanda Palmer”. Photograph by Kyle Cassidy, 2008. (Note the period dress and the antler…)
When I see Melora, her dress hiked up, marching out into that field, her auburn hair done up in an elegant, but not meticulous bun, and her antlers protruding from her head, I think of Amanda. So, it was surprising and synchronous to me when I was scrolling through Instagram and found that Amanda brought in Nicholas Kahn and Richard Selesnick to do promotional photography and the artwork for her next album. To me, it seems like the perfect fit, bringing Kahn & Selesnick and Amanda together. She has a history of selecting amazing photographers to work with and this time around will be no exception.
In her post, Amanda said, “This record I am about to make in L.A. is without a doubt the most personally intimate/painful/raw record I’ve ever made… my patrons who have been following the trail of demos know what I’m talking about: the songs deal with death, cancer, abortion, miscarriage. I didn’t want to just get glamour shots. I wanted to make meaningful images that match the stories and convey the heaviness of the record. This is why I’m so happy that I met Kahn & Selesnick in upstate New York—they totally get it. I actually started weeping during the shoot a few days ago: I felt so perfectly peaceful and powerful and understood.“
There’s a trend right now, a glorious trend that I wish more people were aware of, of feminist music, raw, intelligent, poetic, danceable, brilliant music by women singers and songwriters (Annie Lennox, Austra, Bat for Lashes, Cyndi Lauper, Florence + the Machine just to name the first that come to mind and the most widely known). I’m glad to see Amanda right there in the midst of it, singing about a woman’s right to choose and her experience having abortions and miscarriages, singing about Harvey Weinstein and sexual harassment and assault, singing about Judy Blume and the influence she had on her as a teen and an adult, singing about the loss of her best friend who died of cancer, singing about the challenges and joys of motherhood, and singing about life as we all experience it and can relate to it. This is what the world needs right now to understand itself and to heal. Sometimes you have to go to the wilderness to heal. Sometimes you have to heal to embrace your own wildness. Sometimes you have to enter the wild in order to strip yourself down to its bare, essential, creative self. Sometimes it is only in the wild that you can be free to cry, to laugh, and to sing. And woman of the wild, I hear thee…
Recommended Reading List (includes audio books): Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes/ by Edith Hamilton I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings/ by Maya Angelou Le Féminisme ou la Mort/ by Françoise d’Eaubonne The Word for the World Is Forest/ by Ursula K. Le Guin The Creative Fire/ by Clarissa Pinkola Estés Women Who Run with the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype/ by Clarissa Pinkola Estés Theatre of the Imagination/ by Clarissa Pinkola Estés Tales of the Brothers Grimm/ edited, selected, and introduced by Clarissa Pinkola Estés The Resurgence of the Real: Body, Nature and Place in a Hypermodern World/ by Charlene Spretnak The Art of Asking: or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help/ by Amanda Palmer Braving the Wilderness: The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone/ by Brené Brown
It should be clear that there is indeed something wrong with our society when people make jokes about other people suffering the trauma of abuse and assault. That much should really be common sense. As of yesterday, July 20, 2018, acclaimed film director James Gunn was fired by Disney and Marvel Studios for a series of extremely controversial and offensive posts he made on social media back in 2007 and 2008. The director of such films as Slither, Super, and Marvel‘s Guardians of the Galaxy and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 has been known for his outlandish and innovative take on genre films, diving deep into horror, superheroes, and science fiction and fantasy films, subverting expectations, imbuing them with irreverent humour, and making otherwise obnoxious characters lovable. But now he may find himself a rogue in Hollywood after a conservative political commentator dug up posts he made from over ten years ago and exposed a dark side to the much-loved director’s past and personality. The firing of Gunn brings up a number of questions about accountability, about hypocrisy, about political correctness, about free speech, about the free market, about separating the artist and their art, and about the future of the highly successful Marvel Studios brand’s future.
The Marvel Studios logo as it appeared in 2008 during the inception of the MCU and Phase One.
To start things off, Marvel was purchased by Disney in 2009, about a year after the launch of the MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe) with the 2008 films, Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk. These two films introduced a way of re-branding both Disney and Marvel, of sharing intellectual property between companies, and of creating a super-franchise comprised of smaller franchises revolving around popular characters and groups of characters. It was the birth of the cinematic universe, where characters from one franchise crossover with characters from another, and each cinematic installment builds upon the last and lays the foundation for the next. From a storytelling perspective, it was the film medium borrowing from the unique qualities of serialized narratives as found in comic books and graphic novels, and from a corporate perspective, it was a studio tapping into synergy in a way that had never been done before (or since really). However, creatively, aside from that first Iron Man film, most of the early MCU films failed to recapture the fun, intelligence, action, and character dynamism that made the comic books so special. Until The Avengers was released in 2012, that is, and changed everything. Since then, Marvel has exploded into one of the most innovative of studios, both creatively and commercially, making literally billions of dollars every year in ticket sales, home video releases, merchandising, and licensing deals.
This largely has to do with how it has taken lesser known characters, allowed lesser known genre and independent filmmakers who were passionate about them, reinvent them on screen. Jon Favreau, who directed Iron Man in 2008 and Iron Man 2 in 2010, and Joss Whedon, who directed The Avengers in 2012 and Avengers: Age of Ultron in 2015, were the creative spearheads behind most of the films that comprised Phase One and Phase Two of the MCU. But fans started to show some signs of superhero fatigue and critically a number of entries in the various franchises didn’t quite live up to the massive storm cloud of hype that grew around them. There were among these truly epic franchises a number of films that were consider by comic book fans, film critics, and industry economists, to have missed their mark. There were also films that surpassed expectations and radically altered not only the way these superhero films were being written, directed, and marketed, but also the creative direction that the whole MCU was moving in. Phase Two, overall, while relatively successful commercially, felt formulaic, predictable, and bland. Both Iron Man 3 and Avengers: Age of Ultron felt underwhelming and failed to live up to many fans’ expectations of how hugely iconic characters would be treated. But in 2014, two films, one a sequel and one an origin story, shot the MCU to the very height of comic book movie adaptations.
The theatrical poster for the 2014 sequel “Captain America: The Winter Soldier”.
Captain America: The Winter Soldier, directed by brothers Anthony Russo and Joe Russo, took the Captain America character back to the basics, telling a nuanced, thrilling, and more grounded story than its predecessor Captain America: The First Avenger had. Creating a palpable amount of suspense, introducing a deeper level of political commentary, more meaningful character development, and a touch of the techno-thriller, the film had more in common with the first Iron Man film, and was the first truly great sequel of the MCU. While other sequels, such as Iron Man 2, Iron Man 3, and Thor: The Dark World, had done reasonably well with critics and in terms of box office, The Winter Soldier captured the spirit of the characters and the comics while adapting them faithfully on-screen, embodying the potential of what superheroes could be on screen and what they could represent to a real world of moviegoers. The film raised the bar and set a new standard for sequels and made the “least favourite Avenger” the coolest, most honourable, and most relatable member of the superhero team. Cap was officially cool again.
While the Russos redefined what a Marvel sequel could and should be, James Gunn came onto the scene with Guardians of the Galaxy, a bizarre and unexpected film that combined buddy comedy film, heist film, science fiction film, fantasy film, and adventure film tropes into a truly revolutionary concoction that proved to be box office gold. The film was hailed by critics and audiences alike for its snappy dialogue, its beautifully colourful special effects, for its mixture of genres, and for its array of roguish and lovable characters. It was at once the MCU‘s greatest risk and biggest success. The film took a second-rate, maybe even third-rate, group of characters that almost no one was familiar with outside the most diehard of comic book fans, and elevated them to a-level star status, making both the cast and the characters themselves, an integral part of the MCU. This was in part due to casting against convention, hiring the chubby and charming Chris Pratt from the NBC sitcom Parks and Recreation to be the handsome, muscle-bound, morally ambiguous, bed-hopping, smart-ass thief, Peter Quill, known as Star-Lord. Joining Pratt was Zoe Saldana as the green-skinned assassin, Gamora, Bradley Cooper and Vin Diesel as a mercenary raccoon and walking, talking tree, Rocket and Groot respectively, and Dave Bautista as Drax, a vengeance obsessed hulk of tattooed muscle. The stars seemed as unlikely as the concept. Guardians of the Galaxy became one of the highest grossing films of its year and turned the direction of the MCU away from the standard superhero fare and aimed its sight to the cosmos. Science fiction and fantasy would be the underlying genres of the MCU‘s most creative period, Phase Three.
The theatrical poster for the 2014 film “Guardians of the Galaxy”.
Aside from the brilliant performances from the cast, and the dazzling display of special effects, most of the credit for the success of the Guardians of the Galaxy went to the writer-director, James Gunn, whose visionary direction and witty dialogue turned the world of science-fantasy on its head in the best way possible. Having directed the gruesome horror comedy Slither in 2006, and the satirical vigilante film Super in 2010, his previous films had shown that Gunn was edgy and talented, and that his dark and nihilistic sense of humour would lend themselves well to genre films.
The theatrical poster for the 2016 sequel “Captain America: Civil War”.
Subsequently, the Russos directed Captain America: Civil War in 2016, which not only saw divisions drawn among the Avengers, Iron Man and Captain America, leading to an all-out war, but also introduced both Spider-Man and the Black Panther to the MCU, expanding their superhero mythology. They followed that up with the third Avengers film, Avengers: Infinity War in 2018, which saw all of the major characters in the MCU unite together to face the cosmic threat of Thanos, whose presence had been growing since the very first Avengers film eight years earlier, and was the first culminating chapter of the MCU begun ten years earlier.
The theatrical poster for the 2018 sequel “Avengers: Infinity War”.
Gunn would then go onto direct the 2017 sequel Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 and expand the cosmic mythology as well as reaffirm the Guardians characters as the iconic and irreverent upstarts in Marvel‘s pantheon. Along with the Russos, Gunn would become one of the most important creative voices behind the MCU, just under Kevin Feige, producer and president of Marvel Studios. The Russos would oversee Captain America and the Avengers in their next two films, and would help to steer the direction of the superhero characters, and Gunn would set the tone and visual style for the science fiction and fantasy worlds. It was a perfect formula for unprecedented success.
The theatrical poster for the 2017 sequel “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2”.
The MCU was moving in leaps and bounds. With each new franchise introduced, the sky seemed to be the limit, the creativity seemed to grow, the box office set new records, and fans rejoiced. The Russos with their Captain America and Avengers films, Gunn with the Guardians, Scott Derrickson with Doctor Strange released in 2016, Taika Waititi with Thor: Ragnarok released in 2017, Ryan Coogler with Black Panther released in 2018. Each new film introduced a host of new characters, new ideas, new themes, new narratives, and the possibility for countless new adventures.
On June 25, 2018, James Gunn posted across his social media platforms the cover page for his screenplay of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, which was due out in 2020, and described it as “Every bit of my heart.“
Posted on June 25, 2018, the cover page of James Gunn’s screenplay for “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3”, which he called, “Every bit of my heart.”
The Marvel Cinematic Universe was thriving and bringing new writers and directors from independent filmmaking in with each new installment, reintroducing and reinventing characters, redefining genres, and reinvigorating Hollywood. They seemed to be moving at full momentum, unstoppable, unsinkable, and untouchable. Everything seemed to be going according to plan.
In the late 1960s, when legally purchased weapons were in the hands of the Black Panthers, who were present during many police arrests in order to prevent police brutality, Republican attitudes towards gun control can be summed up with these words: “No one wants to touch the legitimate hunter, but we’ve got to protect society from nuts with guns. Something must be done.“
In the first two decades of the 2000s, when we have reached an epidemic of gun violence where there is almost one mass shooting in America every other week and police shootings of unarmed black men occur more and more frequently, Republican attitudes towards gun control can be summed up with these words:
“I think that mental health is your problem here. But this isn’t a gun situation here.” – Donald Trump
Consider the numbers alone. We are barely more than halfway through the year 2018 and over 500 people have been shot and killed by police. 92 of those were black. While only 13% of America’s population is black, 31% of people shot and killed by the police are black, 39% of those shot and killed when not attacking are black, and 62% of those shot and killed by police when unarmed are black. Why the discrepancy in fatal shootings? The answer isn’t simple and a multitude of factors must be considered: a history of police brutality, racism and racial profiling, economic conditions, lack of educational and employment opportunities in inner cities, mass incarceration, the militarization of the police, and an over reliance upon firearms as the first defense.
These are but a few of the instances in recent years when black men were killed by the police…
On January 1, 2009, a twenty-two year old man, Oscar Grant, was shot in the back while being restrained by police at Fruitvale Station in Oakland, California.
On July 17, 2014, forty-three year old Eric Garner was choked to death by a plainclothes police officer after selling loose cigarettes in Staten Island, New York. Garner was placed in an illegal stranglehold after he asked the officer to not touch him.
On August 9, 2014, eighteen year old Michael Brown was shot six times in Ferguson, Missouri after an altercation with a police officer.
On November 23, 2014, twelve year old Tamir Rice was shot by police in Cleveland, Ohio while he was pretending to draw and fire a toy gun.
On December 2, 2014, thirty-four year old Rumain Brisbon was shot twice in the chest by a police officer in Phoenix, Arizona who claimed the pill bottle Brisbon was holding was a weapon.
On March 6, 2015, nineteen year old Tony Robinson was shot by a police officer in Madison, Wisconsin after reports were made that he was yelling, behaving erratically, and jumping in front of traffic. The police had been called to help the troubled young man who was later found to have been using multiple drugs.
On April 2, 2015, forty-four year old Eric Harris was shot to death during a sting operation in Tulsa, Oklahoma when an undercover police officer mistook his gun for his taser.
On April 4, 2015, fifty year old Walter Scott was shot in North Charleston, South Carolina during a traffic stop for a broken brake light.
On July 5, 2016, thirty-seven year old Alton Sterling was shot three times in Baton Rouge, Louisiana by police officers who claimed he was reaching for his gun while he was being restrained.
On July 6, 2016, thirty-two year old Philando Castile was shot seven times by police in Falcon Heights, Minnesota after a traffic stop. He let the officer know he had a gun and was then shot as he reached for his driver’s license.
On September 16, 2016, forty year old Terence Crutcher was tasered and then shot to death in Tulsa, Oklahoma by police officers, who referred to him as a “big bad dude”, after leaving his vehicle in the middle of the road and behaving erratically.
We’ve seen the headlines in the newspapers, the video reports on the news channels, the blog articles, the protests and rallies, and yet this epidemic of police violence against black men continues.
This is why Living Colour felt it necessary to cover Notorious B.I.G.‘s classic hip-hop track Who Shot Ya? in 2016 with a video documenting gun violence.
In the early hours of the morning on December 4, 1969, Chicago Black Panther Party members Fred Hampton and Mark Clark were gunned down by police during a raid. The previous night, Hampton had taught a course at a local church on political education and activism, and then with eight other Panthers met at an apartment gathering place for dinner, where his drink had been drugged by an undercover FBI agent in preparation for the police raid. Clark was found on security in the front room at a table where he sat in a chair with a shotgun resting across his lap. He was shot in the chest. In the bedroom, Hampton, heavily unconscious under the effects of the barbiturates slipped in his drink late the night before, did not wake in the midst of the gunfire. Hampton’s nine-month pregnant fiancée, Deborah Johnson, was dragged from the room and Hampton was shot to death while sleeping in his bed. Witnesses in the apartment reported overhearing the involved police officers having an exchange of words in which the following was said: “That’s Fred Hampton.“ “Is he dead? Bring him out.“ “He’s barely alive.“ “He’ll make it.“ This was followed by another two shots fired at point blank range into Hampton’s head. “He’s good and dead now.“ Three other Panthers (Blair Anderson, Verlina Brewer, and Brenda Harris) were also shot at by the police, brutally beaten, and then falsely accused of aggravated assault. The fourteen police officers involved in the raid fired somewhere between 80 and 100 shots. During the raid, only one shot was ever fired by a Panther, and that one shot was caused by Mark Clark reflexively squeezing the trigger of his shotgun as he himself was shot in the chest.
This is why I wear a Black Panther Party patch despite be raised in a small, rural, mostly conservative New England town with a population that was 96% white and being white myself. And this is why I write this post.
My Black Panther Party patch worn to express my support for the original goals of Bobby Seales, Huey Newton, and Fred Hampton.
“We hold these truths to be sacred and undeniable; that all men are created equal and independent, that from that equal creation they derive rights inherent and inalienable, among which are the preservation of life, and liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” – Thomas Jefferson, American founding father and slave owner, in The Declaration of Independence
“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” – Amendment II to the United States ConstitutionThe equality of all man wasn’t acknowledged by Jefferson when it came to his his slaves, and there is no doubt that among black slaves, the predominant labour force in North America from 1619 to 1865, that there was no life, liberty, or pursuit of happiness. Independence was a myth. The reality was racial dependence. When viewed in context with the actual history, the words of Jefferson feel hollow, and his words and actions are further proof that the opportunities and freedoms guaranteed by The Declaration of Independence and by the Amendments to the Constitution of the United States did not apply to black people and were never intended to. The laws of the land protected the white man’s freedom, the white man’s land, and the white man’s property. These laws were not extended to people of colour of African, Native, Hispanic, or Asian descent.
On March 3, 1991, after a night of drinking and watching basketball, three friends, Rodney King, Freddie Helms, and Bryant Allen, decided to go driving around midnight in Los Angeles. King was the driver. At 12:30 am, husband and wife officers of the California Highway Patrol, Tim Singer and Melinda Singer, saw the speeding vehicle and followed in pursuit. This became a high-speed pursuit as King attempted to evade the police knowing that a DUI would violate his parole. The pursuit escalated, leaving the freeway for residential areas, and additional LAPD police vehicles joined in, including a helicopter. After being cornered, King was forced to stop his car at Foothill Boulevard and Osborne Street, where he and his two passengers were ordered to exit the vehicle with their hands on their head and lie face down on the road. Allen and Helms complied with this order and were subjected to rough physical handling, claiming that they had been kicked, stomped, and beaten. Helms received a head injury from a nightstick strike while he was lying on the ground. King refused to leave his vehicle at first, but when he did step out, he allegedly patted his buttocks, which was mistakenly perceived as him reaching for a weapon. Singer raised her weapon in preparation for an arrest. However, the Singers were informed that the LAPD would be taking over from this point onward, and all officers were commanded by ranking officer Stacey Koons to holster their guns. Officers Theodore Briseno, Laurence Powell, and Timothy Wind then proceeded to surround King and subdue him. Three of the four LAPD officers together then beat King with their nightsticks, and kicking and punching him over 50 times, as well as tasering him twice. Despite much of the brutal incident being caught on video by local witness, George Holliday, who then sold the footage to a local channel, the three officers, Briseno, Powell, and Wind, were acquitted of use of excessive force by a majority white jury. A federal trial later found officers Koons and Powell guilty of violating King’s civil rights. This famously resulted in riots throughout LA.
This is why Rage Against the Machine wrote Killing in the Name to address the long history of racial violence perpetuated by the police and by white Americans upon black Americans.
At 9:26 pm on March 18, 2018, a twenty-two year old black man, Stephon Clark, was shot while in the back yard of his grandmother’s house, where he had been living. Police had been looking for a suspect involved in a series of car break-ins where the windows of the cars had been smashed with a tool bar. Clark, who had previously had a stint in jail, was unarmed when he was shot. The only possession found on his body was a cellular phone which, according to the the two police officers on the scene, he had been holding out in front of him. Claiming that the white phone was being held out in an aggressive manner, and that they mistook it for a gun, and fearing for their safety, the two officers opened fire on Clark, firing twenty rounds. Eight shots hit Clark, six of which entered his body through his back, and the coroner’s report indicated that one bullet entered his body after he had already collapsed to the ground. It was three minutes before an officer attempted to speak with him and five minutes before anyone approached Clark who lay dying on his grandmother’s lawn. After the arrival of other police officers, and realizing all too late that Clark was unarmed, the two officers muted their body-camera microphones to avoid self-incrimination.
This is why Colin Kaepernick and fellow NFL players kneel during the playing of the National Anthem despite facing criticism from social conservatives who turn the discussion to disrespecting the flag and veterans.
Eric Reid and Colin Kaepernick kneel during the National Anthem.
This is why we all must stand together and advocate for stricter gun laws, legal policy and procedure reform, and an open, national dialogue about racially motivated violence and racial profiling in law enforcement. We are all in this together and until all people are treated fairly and equally by law enforcement this kind of unnecessary and deeply contentious violence will proliferate. Regardless of your gender or race, as a human being, your fellow human beings are being killed, and it is your civic duty to recognize and address this injustice.
In November of 1918, Germany reacted to its corrupt and inept monarchy, and the November Revolution engulfed the country. The result was the 1919 formation of the Weimar Republic which saw a level of social liberation, sexual and racial tolerance, and artistic innovation hitherto unseen in Europe since the Enlightenment. However, the sudden change in sociopolitical attitudes also saw an increase in conservative reactionism, and their culprit was the Jew, the homosexual, the immigrant. Modern art, particularly the arts common among Jewish intellectuals, socialists and communists, and secular free-thinkers that challenged traditional notions of class and gender, were deemed degenerate art. People were banned from commerce based upon their religion and race. They were forcibly removed from their places of employment and residence. This conservative scapegoating of minorities reached its apex in 1933 when the far-right Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei rose to power through elections and established Germany as a fascist state under the Nazis. This culminated in the Final Solution, begun only eight years after their being elected to power, the Nazi’s organized genocidal effort to imprison and exterminate anyone that they saw as “undesirable” or “degenerate”, leading to the deaths of an estimated 60 million in war and an estimated 17 million in the Holocaust.
Right now, a decade after the election of Barack Obama, America’s first black president, three years after the national legalization of same-sex marriage, almost 80 years after the commencement of WWII, and 100 years after the November Revolution, we are witnessing the rise of an authoritarian oligarchy lead by Donald Trump and his contingents. This is evidenced by the xenophobic, homophobic, and misogynistic attitudes that are growing in prevalence. It is evidenced by the militarization of the police, the dehumanization of minorities, the vilification of those living in poverty, and by the reestablishment of rigid gender roles and restrictions placed on consensual sexual conduct. The value placed on human life has become depreciative. This is in no way dissimilar to the effects of conservative reactionism in Europe. We are witnessing the birth of American Fascism happen all around us right now, and if you value diversity, if you value human rights, if you value individual freedoms or collective cooperation, then I urge you to take a stand against this. We cannot allow this presidency to reach its term. We cannot allow for the birth of American Fascism. This administration must be aborted, and its ideology must be cast down into the pit of corruption, ineptitude, and inequality. If we do nothing, if we simply stand by and criticize and complain and talk amongst ourselves in hushed, indignant tones, or if we merely stand up and march and make noise and express our vehement outrage, the machinations of fascism will continue to whir and turn. The machine must be dismantled and its parts disposed of with haste.
I could go on, and I have before in various essays, about the dichotomous treatment of women as either virgins to be desired or whores to be degraded. This image is sadly commonplace enough that we’ve all seen it perpetuated in our collective folklore and popular culture. Perhaps nowhere have I seen that better explored than in The Handmaid’s Tale, the book by Margaret Atwood, and the Hulu television series that it inspired. In the eighth episode of the first season of the series, the main character, who has been kept as a domestic slave and biological commodity, is allowed to go out on a “date” with the man to whom she is nothing more than a possession and an asset. Upon arriving at a clandestine location she is exposed to a secretive world of sexual exploitation and fetishism where the alternative to being a human broodmare is prostitution. This, in my eyes, so encapsulates the way that women today are treated and why it is so important for everyone to be concerned about gender equity. Girls and women are expected to go along with a program of domesticity and tranquility (i.e. subservience and docility) or they are relegated to a lower position of sexual exploitation. In both of these scenarios, a woman’s intelligence, her sexual, reproductive, and bodily autonomy, and her prospective social contributions are stifled solely for the benefit of men. This is plainly and simply unacceptable. Social mobility should not depend on upon sexualization or objectification. The following song lyrics were written with that in mind and to emphasize that coercion, compliance, and conformity are not substitutes for consent.
Elizabeth Moss as June/Offred and Joseph Fiennes as Commander Fred Waterford in “Jezebels”, season one, episode eight of the Hulu series adaptation of “The Handmaid’s Tale”.
The Entertainment of Men Dirty jokes and side-way glances Opportunistic half-way romances With a flirtatious line, a winning smile Exploitive agendas dressed in transparent style A brush of the hair or a stroke of the hand He takes the lead since he gave the command It’s not initiative that the others lack It’s just the control of the egomaniac And soon his advances will turn into assault But you took your chances so it will all be your fault
I’ve seen it again and again It’s all for the entertainment of men You’ve been there again and again It’s all permitted for the entertainment of men
You deserve respect, not to be neglected You don’t ever need a man to feel protected You’re not here to be plucked like a delicate flower You have your own strength, you have your own power
This culture of rape wears a slick, charming face How will we ever save this sickening human race For the pill is a poison that’s too sweet not to take Behind the fun of the date there is a hideous fake
The way that they look makes it all so clear You’re a possession, that’s why you’re here Locker room discussions way past that age Passive-aggressions and choking back rage Others watch on in awe and admire their bravery But toxic masculinity rides upon feminine slavery It’s not courage, but compassion they lack As they cup your breasts and caress your back Soon flattery and compliments fall by the wayside When desperate desire is replaced by male pride
I’ve seen it time and time again Women bought for the entertainment of men You’ve been there time and time again Commoditized for the entertainment of men
You can’t be bought, you can’t be sold You don’t have to do whatever you’re told You can stand just as tall, you can stand just as strong You don’t need an arm to lean on to be dragged along
This culture of rape wears a slick, charming face How will we ever save this sickening human race For the pill is a poison that’s too sweet not to take Behind the fun of the date there is a hideous fake
Foreword When my friends, Thomas Negovan and Aaron Shaps, announced a while back that they had filmed a short film in the Weird West genre, reminiscent of ’50s Westerns and science fiction, I knew that it would be something special indeed. Knowing them both to be deeply knowledgeable in a variety of areas, ranging from Art Nouveau aesthetics to the black and white cinematography of directors like John Ford and Akira Kurosawa, from the poetry of Charles Baudelaire and Oscar Wilde to the pulp horror magazines of the ’30s and ’40s, I knew that the product of their collective imaginations would be visionary and unique. The film is then unsurprisingly inspired by a wide array of literature, films, and television, but it is also inspired by a real historical incident surrounded in mystery and contention. If anyone could create an engagingly told and beautifully shot film, they could, and they have with Aurora.
XUL1347’s extraordinarily Gothic poster for “Aurora” featuring the Fledermaus pilot and hints at the horror and science fiction elements of the film.
The Aurora Incident of April 17, 1897 The first alleged UFO crash was not in Roswell, New Mexico in 1947 as many would have you think, but rather it occurred a whole fifty years earlier in Aurora, Texas on April 17, 1897. In 1896 and 1897, there had been many sightings throughout the United States of a strange metallic aircraft, but no one knew just what it was. Reports were conflicting and many come from the Southwestern states, such as California and Texas, and over 100 of those reported sightings occurring within Texas alone. There were also sightings in Washington, Nebraska, Missouri, Michigan, and Illinois. While most accounts said that the aircraft was cigar-shaped and metallic, other reports made the historic first claims of having seen a saucer-like airship, eventually giving rise to the now commonplace term of “flying saucer“. There were even reports in certain regions from witnesses who claimed to speak with the crew members of the aircraft.
From page 5 of the Dallas Morning News, “A Windmill Demolishes It”, posted on April 19, 1897, and written by S.E. Haydon.
As dubious as the story appears, there are as many facts to back it up as there are to dismiss it, which leaves the debate ongoing as to the truthfulness and accuracy of the original newspaper story. The accepted narrative is that on the morning of April 17, 1897, a large, silvery, metallic craft in the shape of a cigar was seen flying over the town of Aurora, Texas, at a low altitude. The craft seemed to be experiencing mechanical troubles (indeed, there are reports that a trail of smoke followed it as it descended on the town, though these reports vary). It was then said that the craft collided with Judge J.S. Proctor‘s windmill, that it exploded, scattering metal and molten debris, and leaving behind the burnt corpse of its pilot. This corpse was identified as being “not an inhabitant of this world” by T.J. Weems, the town’s blacksmith and U.S. Signal Service Officer, who said that it looked like “a native of the planet Mars.” The bulk of the aircraft debris was hauled off to an unknown location and it was said that Proctor dumped the remainder of the metal debris into his well.
Aurora is a small suburb located about twenty miles North of Fort Worth, Texas, and is part of Wise County, Texas. In the late 1890s, the population of Aurora was about 370 some odd people, and it would remain as such for over a century. Arid and hot, suffering from disease, and plagued by infestation, Aurora was by all accounts a struggling town, full of hardship and toil. Many thought it was a dying town, too far gone to be saved without some dramatic change, and it is based on this that skeptics point to the initial article as being part of a hoax, an attempt by community members within Aurora to give their town some press in the hopes of revitalizing it.
To determine whether or not it was a hoax, whether there was a crash of some kind or an incident at all, and whether the cause of that crash was an alien aircraft or some advanced technological man-made aircraft, requires a great deal of research and investigation. Numerous UFO hunters and investigators have attempted to either validate or debunk the story, but because the incident happened so long ago, and most of the interest drummed up about the alleged incident began in the 1970s, over 70 years after the incident occurred, there are few original witness testimonies to rely upon and even less in the way of material evidence.
Naysayers and skeptics have dismissed the story as a “typical Texas tall tale” or as “old timer’s folklore“, but many of the arguments used to disprove the incident have themselves fallen under scrutiny and called into question. There were numerous claims that Proctor never had a well or a windmill, but recent excavations of the site have shown that not only is there still a well that’s over a century old, there are also posts that ran into the ground on four different points surrounding the well, indicating that there was either a windmill or a derrick and windlass for hoisting water from the well.
Some have claimed that S.E. Haydon was a practical joker and that he may have written the article out of jest or to gain the town attention. However, there were numerous mentions of Texans witnessing the flying craft between the 15th and 17th of April, and if indeed the goal of the article was to attract attention, why was it buried in a small portion of page five of the paper. Surely, the announcement of extra-terrestrial life forms with advanced technology would have been placed on the front page, if the reason for writing the article was to earn the town tourism or press attention.
Others have accused the local law enforcement agencies of a cover-up. In the Aurora Cemetery, where the aircraft pilot’s body was said to have been buried, the stone that once marked the grave was removed and all requests to have the body located and exhumed have been refused. The plaque that commemorates the cemetery’s history, and the many veterans buried there, alludes to the incident of 1897, but also dismisses it as local legend.
Aurora Cemetery plaque.
What we have learned in the 40 plus years since these investigations began is that the site of the alleged incident did and still does have debris matching the description of an aluminum-like metal. Numerous samples of this metal have been found and sent in to a number of labs for analysis. The results show that the fragments found contain primarily aluminum and iron, but in higher quantities than is standard practice for aluminum manufactures. Normally the amount of iron found in any aluminum alloy is less that 1%. In the fragments found near the supposed crash site, the aluminum contained about 5% iron, far beyond what would be accepted. Also unusual is the fact that most aluminum alloys contain more zinc than that found in the samples. Adding to the mystery is that aluminum during the 1880s and 1890s was very costly and to create an aircraft of the size and dimensions described in eye witness accounts would have been impractical as well as outrageously expensive.
What’s remarkable about the story, regardless of its status as fact or fiction, is the accurate description of a successful man-made, heavier-than-air craft, not a balloon or a dirigible, but another manner of flight vehicle altogether… over six years before the Wright Brothers’ famous first flight at Kitty Hawk on December 17, 1903.
Science Fiction And Fact Become Legend Thomas Negovan grew up with two television series as the progenitor of his pop cultural fixations: “My favorite TV shows as a kid were The Twilight Zone and The Rifleman, so while there are a lot of other genres I’m anxious to explore, this movie represents my personal origin as far as interest in film and television.“
Thomas Negovan appearing in his stylishly anachronistic Western attire.
Most children who grew up in the ’70s or earlier can recall playing as cowboys and Indians, as sheriffs and deputies fighting off bandits, as cavalrymen protecting innocent townspeople from bands of raiders, as lawless gunslingers dueling each other in the dusty, windswept streets of some Southwestern town or hamlet. Or they played spaceman and went to strange planets where they encountered hostile alien species. Some children did both at the same time and would continue to do so on into adulthood. Thomas and Aaron had the unique opportunity to live out these imaginary adventures, to bring their childhood fantasies to life on film, and to share them with others as adults.
Aaron Shaps wearing his cowboy gear during the production of “Aurora”.
Over the course of its five seasons, The Twilight Zone revisited the Western genre in a series of Weird West-themed episodes, among them of which eight stand out from the rest: Mr. Denton on Doomsday, Execution, Dust, The Grave, Still Valley, Showdown with Rance McGrew, An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, and Mr. Garrity and the Graves. With these episodes, the tropes and traits of the Western were commingled with those of the fantasy, horror, and science fiction genres, bringing necromancers and traveling salesmen together, sending bandits into alternate timelines to face justice, and sending gunslingers into graveyards from which they’d never return.
In “Mr. Denton on Doomsday”, the third episode of the first season of “The Twilight Zone”, Al Denton (portrayed by character actor Dan Duryea) is a former gunslinger and the town drunk, driven to drink by years of guilt and existential depression, who is given a second chance at life and the opportunity for redemption when a man named Fate comes to town.
“Execution” the twenty-sixth episode of the first season of “The Twilight Zone” featured a tale of a gruff, lowly criminal about to be hung, who just before the moments of strangulation who is transported into the modern world, where his the repercussions of his sinful past follow him.
In the third season’s seventh episode, “The Grave”, broadcast in 1961, both Lee Marvin and Lee Van Cleef appeared on “The Twilight Zone”. The two actors were already veterans in the Western genre and would continue to be icons for future generations on the silver screen.
One of the most acclaimed episodes of “The Twilight Zone” was based on a classic short story by Ambrose Bierce entitled “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge”, and was strangely enough the only episode not written or produced for television. It was a French short film made two years earlier in 1962 that Rod Serling wished to expose to American television audiences… and so he did.
Another classic example of the Western on “The Twilight Zone”, season five’s “Mr. Garrity and the Graves” saw a fraudulent traveling salesman sell his services as a necromancer and raising a small town’s population of corpses. However, it’s all revealed to be a ruse to get the townspeople’s money, until it turns out that his abilities of resurrection are less fakery than he realizes.
With a Western and a science fiction anthology series established as a jumping off point, Thomas and Aaron created their own out-of-this-world tale with Aurora. But the expanse of strange and eclectic influences went far beyond the creative output of Rod Serling and John Ford. Drawing themes and narrative techniques ranging from David Lynch‘s early films to the writing of H.P. Lovecraft, comic books and pulp fiction magazines to the Universal Monsters, they began to formulate a story that would build off of its real-life historical framework, but within certain limits. As the evolution of the narrative developed, it spiraled outward to incorporate UFO conspiracy theories, and it pulled in new elements, such as time traveling Nazi test pilots and cryptid monsters, and yet it would still have to return to its roots as a historical Western in the end.
A shelf of varied inspiration.
Thomas describes the challenges of telling an imaginative story of speculative fiction while fitting within a real historical framework: “We knew we had the start of the story, and we knew that the end had to match the newspaper reports and the historical research. What we did in between was try to take it as far out as we could and still end up matching the ‘true’ story. The best part of creating these stories is, for me, when we are trying to outdo each other in the course of a conversation. The Mayor has some dialogue in Aurora that was absolutely Aaron trying to make me laugh; T.J. Weems gives a speech about Mars that I came up with in that same conversation because of a chapter on Mars in a 1905 schoolbook that I have. So the idea of the Aurora incident was all Aaron, I just loved it and the next thing I knew we were building a huge web of eccentric theories as to what it might have been.“
In describing the different works that formed the basis of the aesthetics and themes found in their film, Aaron opined, “It’s really incredible when you work with people who have such a similar frame of reference for just about everything. Certainly not everyone in the world was obsessed with Hammer horror or In Search Of… with Leonard Nimoy when they were young; not everyone knows Jodorowsky’s films or Steranko’s comics or Lovecraft’s writing.“
A consortium of cowboys and cryptids… Aaron Shaps, Pango the Cryptid Monster, and Thomas Negovan pose with pride on the set of their new film.
“I loved the Weird Western Tales comics, Jonah Hex, and pre-code horror, which had a lot of Western-themed stories,” Thomas told me. In regards to the collaborative writing process, he offered, “I think the Nazis might have been my contribution and then the monster Aaron’s.“
Behind The Scenes Of A Weird West Film Sometimes the day-in, day-out events that occur off-screen can be just as memorable, if not necessarily as entertaining, as what audiences see on-screen. Nonetheless they give a fascinating and often illuminating insight into the process of filmmaking. This is especially true on an independent film where the budgetary restrictions ensure that every member of cast and crew is delegated multiple functions on and off the set. This was evident when Thomas explained, “I shoveled horse shit out of the road between shots. It can honestly be said that I took part in every single aspect of this movie-making experience.“
Some of the cast and crew on the set between takes.
Aaron agreed and expounded upon this, saying, “Tom wore so many hats throughout the course of making this movie; producer, art director, casting director, et cetera.” Thomas and Aaron would share writing and directing duties together, each utilizing their unique accumulation of academic learning and experiential knowledge to complement the strengths of the other, and in so doing freeing one another to pursue different aspects of the production. When asked about the collaboration process, Aaron explained, “Because Tom and I are on the same page creatively, to an uncanny degree in many ways, the two of us would talk about a scene, or a sequence, or a particular moment ahead of time, and then I would plan out the way I thought we should capture it and present that to Tom. At that point we would fine tune everything together. Because he has been so immersed in the world of fine art for so long, Tom has an incredible eye, and he’s a great photographer, too, so he has excellent instincts for things like composition and lighting; by trusting me with the broader strokes of the visual storytelling early on, he was able to focus on other things until the time came to really refine the visuals on the day.“
Obviously for an independent and self-financed film, you have to work within very tight budgetary constraints, and yet at the same time, Thomas and Aaron are striving to let their imaginations run wild. So many genre films these days focus on expensive CGI and visual spectacle, but there’s always been a special place in the hearts of many genre fans for films that operate on a micro-budget focusing on story and character, and utilizing more affordable practical effects. Balancing characters, narrative, themes, and visuals on a tight budget without any studio support is a challenge. Inevitably the financial limitations can pose problems, but they also can inspire creative decisions that encourage people to think outside of the box and often improve the final film.
In describing how the film’s independence from the studios and its micro-budget affected the creative approach, Aaron said, “It really goes back to The Twilight Zone influence, and studying the way that show told such far out stories on a shoestring budget and with incredibly primitive special effects. There’s no doubt that, had we decided to shoot the movie in color and try to give it a contemporary feel, in terms of camera work and editing and special effects, it would have failed. It would have been ridiculous and it would have looked cheap. We just tried to do as much of it in the same way that it would have been done on television in the 1950s: we use expressionistic lighting; we tell a lot of the story through sound; we heighten the atmosphere with things like flashing lightning and howling wind and pouring rain, and with music; and for the most part we only show quick glimpses of our monster, or we keep him shrouded in shadow. We also put a lot of thought into when we should use the Steadicam, when we should use sticks, and when to go handheld, so that each scene or each particular sequence featured camerawork that enhanced the overall vibe of that particular point in the story.“
The cryptid monster from “Aurora” affectionately dubbed Pango.
In recalling the spirit on the set and the sense of good-humored camaraderie in the face of challenges, Aaron recalled, “We definitely had a very dramatic learning curve when it came to directing. Tom joked on the last day of shooting that we were finally ready to make a movie. “
Sometimes even a villain is just too darn lovable. Writer-director-producer Thomas Negovan and actor Robert Boulter (the Fledermaus Pilot) in costume and on set.
Speaking on the closeness of all involved and how the set really resembled a kind of communal family, Thomas offered, “Dave McKean was a huge inspiration. He talked about Méliès working with his family and friends to make movies, and that was the seed that lead to the production structure of Aurora being all close friends. We wrote this around Rob Boulter, a really close friend of mine, and the [cinematography] was done by John Terendy, who I’ve known since we were kids. Aaron is like my brother and my Dad was on set cooking for everyone. This was completely a family affair.“
Dave McKean’s poster for “Aurora” features the injured Nazi test pilot of the Fledermaus, as portrayed by Robert Boulter, in the town’s local jailhouse.
How To Show Your Support Aurora is about 99% completed with all principal photography wrapped and majority of post-production also finished. But in order to ensure that post-production is finished and that the film is released, Aaron and Thomas need your help in funding the final stages of the process. It goes without saying that a film of this kind and caliber is rarely produced at all, but much less do you see the kind of love and creativity shown within a major studio film, and the reason is that stories like this aren’t mainstream and would be dramatically altered by studio executives to appeal to as wide of an audience as possible, all to ensure financial success. Such success is never guaranteed, but one hopes to see what they put forth artistically into the world experienced by the people who will embrace it on its own merit, to accept it, love it, and support it. So, with great creativity and originality of vision comes great risk, and independence from the studios comes at a cost of its own. Thomas knew that to create his art, this extraordinary piece of entertainment, he would have to turn to fans of a like mind. “It would be impossible for this movie to be profitable, but without this Kickstarter campaign it will take another two years to get everything for this movie finished.“
All that in mind, we can make this happen, all of us… if we come together. And it is vitally important right now, at a time when media giants merge constantly and churn out entertainment that appeal to the lowest common denominator, that independent voices continue to be empowered and heard. There will always be a place for artists and for innovators, but there must always be people there with open minds and hearts willing to receive their creations, and by supporting these artists through funding platforms like Kickstarter, you are actively helping to ensure that unique and diverse talents are fostered and given the opportunity to reach their potential.
This is a poem to the Earth, a poem to the Autumn A love letter to Spain in and during the Fall When sweetness and bitterness touch the cusp of Winter Before Sister wraps herself in scarves and puts on her hat You can still run barefoot in the rust-coloured soil Run through the fields of gold and amber grains Taste the honey of life with expectations Soon to be tread upon by the footsteps of ghosts
The poster is there and it holds no meaning What you saw inside those walls held sway Never forgetting you are haunted by the image Of an imaginary friend who will stand by your side It’s not real, that’s what they all tell you But you know better, because you have belief Sister says that it is just pretending But the Spirit is real and he does exist
In the distance the sound of dogs barking Some malice wells up inside of her The animal in her lap is so trusting But she has set out to make it her fool It tries to struggle while it can Her hands wrapped around its throat Its heart beating intensifies Eyes roll back to see only the dark
Pencil scratches across the paper Every word emblazoned with a memory The ghostly runes of recollection Sharing tales of childhood and death As you walk out into the garden Your face bathed in a golden light Something is wrong with your sister She’s not the same girl she once was
You try to cry out for a guardian angel But God has forsaken you in your hour of need No Mother and no Father to hear you And dusk is falling on the hillside You hear a howling in the distance While you lay still in your downy sheets No comfort here can they provide you The Ghost is roaming through the house tonight
The scent of clay and the taste of honey Visits you every time you close your eyes The green grass of the fields where you wander You step out onto the heavy train tracks Following the trail of your invisible friend Whispering his name to no one in particular The ground beneath your feet hums and vibrates The world around you only seems alive for today
There is a Soldier somewhere out there in hiding Solemn and silent, distrustful, bloodied and afraid Your gentle manners and naïve girlish smiles Melt away his armour and now he might redeemed But what is soft can always be penetrated And to let down his guard is to let in pain And there were shots fired in the darkness which Echo eternally as blood pools into small lakes
Hot breath in the cold cloak of darkness Heat on your face as you take in the sight Blood spilt on stones within these four walls No body here, nobody there for you to talk to Something is wrong with that poor child She fails to see connection or consequence The smoke wraps its tendrils tightly around Sister’s lips And you watch as she chokes on Papa’s only indulgence
Seek your sister, find her warmness, before she is gone Before she grows old and turns to grey All the tenderness and fondness of your companion Will fade until the cold settles in her eyes Something is wrong with your sister And something is wrong with you too You stare into the black midnight waters Not a bit astounded by what stares back at you
Somewhere they are calling your name It never reaches your ears where you are Papa will regret not telling you the whole story When they find you, you will already be gone About innocence, it’s not what they think it is Somehow you have learned early and understood They look down on you with their jaded vision Compromised by the repetition of pain and despair
This disappointment that you don’t understand yet The emptying of rooms and the spaces in beds Moving each other to separate places That soon exist only inside of aging minds Blankets and coats, the sense of home, such familiarity The brown comfort of shelves and of tables The chink of glass on the plate at your bedside The cool air as you walk beyond the safety of love
Not only do you seek out more than is given But you look for more than can ever be Seeing things like ghosts and angels in the darkness Following the footsteps of the unreal These things will shape you, in part in their likeness Your white nightgown like a spirit in the fog Your eyes widen with a sense of wonder When they find you, you will already be gone
No matter how near or far you stand from me, It is not enough, is never enough. The pains of proximity, haunting desires, And futile yearnings permeate every fiber. To be caught in this web of despair and longing, Like an insect bound, fated to die, Or doomed to live in desolation. Prevented from cohabitation or meaningful relation, Until some other is similarly entangled, Where from a distance I must share in suffering. I can never be close enough, Even when I am inside you, you are inside of me, But the real question is, who is consuming whom.
The mists swirled opalescent around me As I strolled through the darkening night The crescent moon casting out dull luminescence As I tripped over the snares and thorns of my emotions
All the while my eyes dwelt on the starry sky Hoping for some glimmering flicker of light That might illuminate my innermost struggle And manifest before my eyes my highest desire
Not diamonds, not dollars, not counterfeit pleasures Just the warmth of her hand to hold in mine And two dark eyes to stare back at me from a pale face Curtained in waves of raven hair, silken, and shining
That we should, as a society, raise people up to the status of celebrity, of icons, and of gods only to tear them down has always been a fascination of mine. We seem to seek out perfection in those that share our flaws and then when they disappoint us, as we inevitably disappoint ourselves, we reserve our deepest hatred and loathing for them. We sanctify what we vilify only to elevate ourselves to greater standards, but look what is left in the rubble of our collective ego, the remnants of those old busts and statues of the people we’ve broken along the way. This poem is dedicated to them (especially and with reverence to Effie Gray, Oscar Wilde, and Evelyn Nesbit).
Effie Gray
Oscar Wilde
Evelyn Nesbit
On Trial Your head’s such swill You’re so full of lies Put me on trial for my life Each breath my every crime To bring out the truth To conjure new facts Digging into the past There you find my nature And there a new definition All the evidence to conquer me
Such a delightful dandy, how charming Such an eloquent, articulate companion There’s no need for further elucidation I’ve said enough to justify my imprisonment How very witty, we are indeed, destined for notoriety But then so quickly we age, weighted by the burdens of maturity
Your heart’s so cold You’re so full of rage Place me on the center stage Each movement an act to be performed To elicit laughter To invoke outrage Carving out my impropriety There you’ll find utter damnation And there will be no benediction All my passions will soon conquer me
Such a delightful damning, how completely charming Such an eloquent imposter, articulate and disarming There’s no need for your justifications You’ve said enough to crucify me with my own actions How very witty, I was indeed, feigning invulnerability But then they all pointed to me, accusations of humanity
You’ve had your way You’ve called me wild Put me in the spotlight for my style Every word I’ve said contrary to my denial To force the truth out To rape lady justice Clawing into the artifice Exposing my true nature And there then the closet door is unhinged And you will find my true countenance within
Your honour, my dishonour, the only crime of which I’m guilty Is having loved, and being loved by, one incapable of loyalty I wish to state, for the record, that I have no regret but this Of having lived amidst a scandal within a state of ignorant bliss So naïve I seem now, but wisdom comes from the pangs of learning So, go on, judge what you will, but of this there’s no moral meaning
I am unsure if this poem is personal, political, or allegorical, or if it even matters. It’s full of references and allusions to some of my favourite writers and artists. There’s a touch of Camus, a dash of Kafka, a pinch of Nietzsche, a sprinkling of Ginsberg, a stroke of Von Stuck, a drop of Giger, and a smear of Bosch. The rest is a Gehenna-sized refuse pile of my own pondering. I call it Sisyphus Triumphant(?). It should not be confused with my short story of the same title which touches upon similar themes and ideas, though less lyrically, in prose.
“Sisyphus” by Franz Von Stuck (1920).
In realms of stagnation, brimming with mold and ashes, steeped in malevolent shadows There we find ourselves held within vast, cruel cages cast in irony, our fates indisputably dictated By the golden ones, seated in the higher echelons, silver clouds over the mountaintops Throwing down their lightning spears and tridents, piercing our lofty illusions of importance, damning our humanity Raping all vulnerability and transforming us into our very deepest, dreaded monstrosities, deformed reflections of ourselves
We wander still, we wait and wait, we crawl into the stinking depths of the cocoon sarcophagi We hang from trees of memories and fall into nightmares made flesh-bound reality And the porous, crimson walls of carnage erected around us are combustible labyrinths of confusion, biological prison cells for the merely mortal Here no purified doves fly, no martyred palms raised, and no olive branches are offered, not while the warders of dogma carry their flails
Our judges are saints to injustice, prophets of the imbalanced scales, heroes of ugly brutality Who swiftly send down the arrows of jealous rage, committing patricide and infanticide with impunity Not stopping to reflect upon the barbaric actions that we deem so fickle and yet are sanctified While we weep diamonds into the churning fecal rivers of our subjugation and sacrifice, degradation of the highest order, cementing our insignificance Not one among us a poet or a philosopher enough to justify such calamity, lest intoxication result in revelation, bidding the release of muted war-horses
Breathing in fumes of conquest and immolation, bloodied goats, maidens offered upon the rocks, children in tempest-tossed seas, blasphemers tied to stakes The stench of decay, of burnt offerings, of golden idols covered in a thick film of dust, of wine-laden vomit, or seminal fluids spilt in ancestral soil Our excesses, our diversions, asinine addictions, and venereal diseases, symptoms of intolerance and narcissism Transgressions piled high around us, they bury us in our patented shames, making us ripe for retribution though the implements of our corruption were divine gifts to begin with
Trapped naked, emasculated, sickeningly bloated, locked in the mud as it sucks you down to the bottom Digging our own unhallowed graves with a sinner’s trowel hands, trying to get out before the trumpet signals doom Opening old wounds sealed by the passage of time, the sands ever falling, resting in a heap of disappointments at the base And never healing that which poisons you from within, the splinter of a rose, the dark thorn of reality Clutching your lies, the broken promises, the empty faith, the partial shelter of dreams, cut off from piety, overflowing with false pardons that cease to hold meaning
We stand alone in the dusk, tearing pages from the book that history bound in the leather of our forefathers’ backs, whispering truths that only madness can tell as the narrative unfolds Never acknowledged in the grey, disorienting light of morning, where even the worms creep from their hiding places to greet the dawn with tribute When waking life is stale, stagnant, riddled with pestilence and devoid of potential, the stone is raised high for the killing blow Where sharpness is dulled like a battle-worn blade and clarity is blurred, the lines become ambiguous and oblique
Wasting away in the incendiary desert of one’s own restless mind, thirsting for attention, dehydrated but for the sweat of one’s brow that runs like a fountain Swaying side to side, in tree-like folly, while winds rise akin to burning sheepskin blankets and skies fade away into an eternal stream of existence that never reaches its source And all these hours are spent with your numb fingers groping, your selfish grasp on the nothingness, clinging to superficiality As your sobs echo and resound though you’ve forgotten that you were even breathing in the dust and gas of creation Choking back grief that should have subsided long ago when the brittle ages passed and the stars burnt out leaving holes in the dark curtain of the universe
There are aches to be trusted, injuries to be relied upon, scars to be read like sacred passages scrawled hastily in your scrolls and codices, one day to be rediscovered Just to have some sense of relief and satisfaction, one moment of peace, you reach into a void that swallows you whole, comfort not withstanding In the glaring light of solitude, in the crushing vacuum of the self, weights descending upon you like oceanic depths, pushing in on your extremities The walls of the world close in on you, the brightness intensifies, blistering and blinding, but never purifying, gasping for air
Aren’t we all, each of us, frail and impotent in the harsh, blasting sunlight, ripped away piece by piece until we’re rubble and bone, ruinous monuments to the past To be tied in your places, high upon the hill, the pity of all or the subject of mockery, visages of solemnity, bound to the Earth like fence posts in motionless mourning We’re all of us bleeding joylessly before the broken altar of penitential misgivings, the fitful shakes of the possessed, the chanted nonsense of the enlightened Waiting for salvation, waiting for finality, waiting for a god that will never come, that will never descend from the pedestals we’ve built on the foundation of our own misdeeds Drowning in our self-made sorrows, burdened by cares forced upon us, collapsing into the conflagration that has swept away virtue and necessity
Wordless prayers gag you, sightless visions mislead you, prying you out of the maze and affixing you to the rusted sky Your heady doubts crippling, while your hopes are perverted under the Sun’s rays, liquefying stability, reinforcing gravity Dragging you up winding stairs of soaring flight until you’re ready to drop free like a feather, not to float with grace, but to plummet like an anchor into watery trenches Into the occult valleys below, those ancient galleries without heart, swimming in sweaty ambition, crucified by each holy thought, the nails of acuity
Dreaming of crowded fields where battles were fought, those won and those lost, relics of victory cascading in memories But what function do they serve in this void, this place of misappropriation, where mutant fables contort and writhe Where context is stripped away like the shell of a mollusk to leave behind putrescent fruit beneath the hardened surface And the mirages merge, twisting animals into armoured machines, the organic into the mechanical, vines and woven ropes into scaled serpents that turn you to stone upon glancing That bind you, burn into your skin while vultures fly above you in perpetuity, feasting on your most desirable entrails, a meal befitting a kingly parasite
The torturous wheel turns you with its each rotation, you never melt on the flames, but the smoke fills you up until your defiance is creosote-like despair The darkness is suffocating and you asphyxiate for eternity, damned by man-horses and deities alike, and the spitting tongues of fire are destined as your only conversational companion You starve and you hunger, yearning for a taste of paradise, for what is just out of reach, the soft, fragrant fruit Turning back you see your great desire withdraw into the fog, your lover returned to the cavernous world beyond, never to be seen again, another dream deserted
If only you could exorcise each contemptuous feeling, damn it to oblivion, forsake human emotion altogether, purge the rewards of experience and observation Would you, like a primitive surgeon, seek to cut out the corpulent parts of you that capacitate love, that sugary tumor that lulls us into security before annihilating our worth To rid yourself of these empathic demons, sabotaging self-interest, severing the umbilical cord of Gaea, releasing yourself from her orbit and all that you hold dear And would you drift blissfully unaware into the ether, the cold silence of space until her galaxy of milk no longer nurses your parched lips, the last of her nutrients suckled dry Would you sail into the uncharted lands where your gods are exiled to dissipate and die in totality while the world behind is absorbed into chaos, destinies undulating like waves during a storm
Would it be so horrible to just let all of this go forever, to let the pillars be downed, to let the temples burn, to let the shrines be forgotten Would it be so selfish to put an end to the purgatorial burdens, the futility of being, to let Atlas falter, the sky fall under its own immense volume To stop dragging the weights and the chains behind you, to loose yourself of their doctrinal lead, the heaviness of alchemical perception To let go of the aged boulder to which you were mercilessly tethered, and let it roll back down below into unfathomable obscurity, taking you with it into the sweet unknown
John William Waterhouse has long been one of my favorite artists because his paintings are so nuanced and his subject matter so alluring, intellectually as well as aesthetically. It seemed appropriate to revisit his work as one list cannot possibly encompass the extensive catalog of paintings that are his legacy. Following in the footsteps of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, J. W. Waterhouse turned towards classical Graeco-Roman mythology and medieval fables (particularly Arthurian legends which he delved into repeatedly) for his inspiration. This subject matter resulted in images that were not only beautiful, but also infused with the iconic archetypes found in all European lore, giving them a timeless quality that has enabled Waterhouse to grow in popularity over the years. His work was emblematic of the latter Victorian Era, though he was not as widely recognized as other artists during that period that worked in similar movements, and yet today his oeuvre is quite celebrated for its idealized depictions of feminine beauty.
“Pandora” (1896)
“The Magic Circle” (1886)
“Ophelia” (1889)
“La Belle Dame sans Merci” (1893)
“Ulysses and the Sirens” (1891)
“Miranda – The Tempest” (1916)
“Boreas” (1903)
“‘I Am Half Sick of Shadows,’ Said the Lady of Shalott” (1915)
“Windflowers” (1902)
“Flora and the Zephyrs” (1897)
“The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot” (1894)
“A Study for ‘A Mermaid'” (1892)
“Pandora” (1896)
“The Magic Circle” (1886)
“Ophelia” (1889)
“La Belle Dame sans Merci” (1893)
“Ulysses and the Sirens” (1891)
“Miranda – The Tempest” (1916)
“Boreas” (1903)
“‘I Am Half Sick of Shadows,’ Said the Lady of Shalott” (1915)
It is in some ways a bit funny that when many of us think of the Pre-Raphaelite movement, we often first recall the works of the latter Pre-Raphaelites and the artists associated with them, rather than the actual Brotherhood that began the movement in the early second half of the 19th Century. Many of the latter-day artists, such as Burne-Jones and Waterhouse, have become as synonymous with the movement as its founders like Rossetti or Millais, and to me that is all the more impressive a testament to their work. Edward Coley Burne-Jones‘ works were more heavily influenced by Medieval legends and ancient myth, and he was not confined to just the medium of paint on canvas, as he explored other venues of expression in painted and stained glass, chintzes and tapestries, and set design and decoration for the stage. As his work matured and he grew artistically, he showed a deep and abiding affinity for narrative art, creating entire series inspired by Sleeping Beauty, Perseus and the Gorgon, and Pygmalion. The darkly sensuous imagery he conjured from his imagination has become as immortal as the myths and legends that he idolized in his youth.
James Abbott McNeill Whistler rose to prominence as an artist during two very popular, very influential, and very different movements in the art world: the movements of the Pre-Raphaelites and the Impressionists. He was a bit of both, in terms of his aesthetics, and yet not really either in terms of his subject matter or his worldview. His paintings, unlike his eccentric and at times combative personality, were subtle and nuanced. Whistler founded a new movement called Tonalism, which featured an emphasis on detailed texture, bold brushstrokes, muted Earth tones, and a soft focus. Many artists, particularly Whistler himself, oscillated between intimate portraiture and moody landscapes. The resultant accumulation of his life’s work is an oeuvre that is imbued with conceptual depth and intellectual thought, but not necessarily wrought with emotion or overt expression of oneself. Whistler’s legacy is not one of sentimental gratification; not for the artist, who strongly believed in art for art’s sake, and not for the viewer, whose eye is caught more by his technique than by his romantic philosophical worldview. Rather, his legacy, as one must assume he would have preferred it, is the art itself.
“The Little Rose of Lyme Regis” (1895)
“Symphony in White, No. 1: The White Girl” (1862)
“Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket” (1875)
“Nocturne – Blue and Gold: Old Battersea Bridge” (circa 1872-1875)
“Whistler in His Studio” (1865)
“Rose and Silver: The Princess from the Land of Porcelain” (1863-1865)
“Arrangement in Black, No. 5: Portrait of Lady Meux” (1881)
“The Thames in Ice” (1860)
“Brown and Silver: Old Battersea Bridge” (1859-1865)
“Nocturne – Blue and Silver: Chelsea” (1871)
“Symphony in White, No. 2: The Little White Girl” (1864)
“Arrangement in Grey and Black, No. 1: Portrait of the Artist’s Mother” (1871)
“The Little Rose of Lyme Regis” (1895)
“Symphony in White, No. 1: The White Girl” (1862)
“Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket” (1875)
“Nocturne – Blue and Gold: Old Battersea Bridge” (circa 1872, 1875)
“Whistler in His Studio” (1865)
“Rose and Silver: The Princess from the Land of Porcelain” (1863-1865)
“Arrangement in Black, No. 5: Portrait of Lady Meux” (1881)
“The Thames in Ice” (1860)
“Brown and Silver: Old Battersea Bridge” (1859-1865)
“Nocturne – Blue and Silver: Chelsea” (1871)
“Symphony in White, No. 2: The Little White Girl” (1864)
“Arrangement in Grey and Black, No. 1: Portrait of the Artist’s Mother” (1871)
Drawing inspiration from mid 19th Century art movements like The Pre-Raphaelites, and from late 18th Century Romanticism, John Atkinson Grimshaw created indelible images that are imbued with Victorian Era ideals. Innocence. Romance. Beauty. These simple aesthetic tropes of the times are permeated throughout Grimshaw’s work. Whether depicting Gothic manors or urban streets lit by moonlight, faeries soaring through the night or ships in the harbor, Grimshaw’s paintings are almost photo-realistic and yet simultaneously elevated by his imaginative lighting and saturated by his use of Earth tones. Little is known about Grimshaw as a man, and little more is known about him as an artist, but his work on the other hand is quite recognizable even to those outside the art community. Our modern notion of what Dickensian London was like has been greatly influenced by Grimshaw’s work, which itself is just as timeless and unforgettable as the writings of Dickens.
The Denver Diaries: Chapter 6 – January 2014 through June 2014
Snowfall on Oneida Street. Photo taken on January 1, 2014.
My time on Oneida Street came to an end early in 2014. The Winter season had well begun and I was going to need to find a new place to live. Fortunately, someone at the church where I had been volunteering suggested me as a potential roommate and caregiver for one of the congregation members who had terminal cancer. He was an ex-con who had turned his life around and had been a volunteer at the church himself for years. After miraculously recovering from stomach and throat cancer, he had been diagnosed with terminal liver cancer, and between the excruciating pain that he experienced on a daily basis and the effects of all the medications he was on, he needed someone to help him do shopping, accompany him to medical appointments (including frequent ER visits), and keep his apartment clean. He had turned to art in the last year or two of his life and this provided him not only with a means to pass the time, but also a sense of accomplishment and a way of expressing himself outwardly when he was effectively bed-ridden and unable to socialize. I did my best to provide him with good company and would regularly walk from the apartment to the library to pick up DVDs for him to watch. Sometimes we would watch them together. I introduced him to Game of Thrones, which he became addicted to watching, and we sat through the first three seasons together. We also made a trip out to the Denver Art Museum.
A self-portrait after an impulsive haircut that left me looking like the Irish bastard offspring of Louise Brooks and John Lennon (had such an anachronistic union occurred). Photo taken January 26, 2014.
Rainbow clouds during a sunset. Photo taken January 2, 2014.
Meanwhile, I continued to look for work and volunteered at the church, but I remained depressed and felt defeated by the lack of response to the now 80 plus applications I had filled out. Adding to this despondency was that my new roommate smoked medical marijuana multiple times on a daily basis. Unknown to me at the time was the fact that I am quite allergic to marijuana smoke, which causes me to become very dehydrated, depressed and lethargic, feverish, and increases my appetite as well as causing me severe headaches and dizziness. Though the first month or two with the roommate went relatively well, things began to fall apart as my health worsened, as his health worsened, and other factors introduced themselves. He had a couple of friends who would come to him and borrow his money or would illegally buy his pain medications to get high. I wasn’t entirely certain how to handle the situation and my one attempt to address this ended rather badly with his friend accusing me of being a freeloader living off of a dying man, which was as far as I could tell hit much closer to the mark of what she was doing. He eventually became more withdrawn and reluctant to go out to the church or on social outings, and then as the chemotherapy decreased his energy and caused him to vomit regularly, made it so that he rarely left his room at all. We stopped watching films and television series together around this time. Then to make matters worse, when we finally did decide to watch Aliens, as I inserted the disc into the DVD player, his flat screen TV, which was balanced on a shoe box and the DVD player, fell on my head shattering the screen and leaving me with a concussion. Fortunately, we were able to get a replacement TV and I offered him my Blu-ray player that I had shipped out from Maine as consolation.
Holiday decorations and festive lighting on 16th Street Mall. Photo taken on January 2, 2014.
Due to my allergies and general sense of ennui at the small shared apartment, I began to go on frequent long walks, anywhere from four to twelve miles. I would walk from the apartment on Colorado Boulevard down to the Denver Public Library on Broadway or go for walks along the various creeks and bike paths. I took long strolls down 16th Street Mall where I took photos of the holiday decorations, the celebratory flashing lights, and all of the families and happy couples gallivanting through the city. It was bittersweet. On one hand, I felt good being out of the apartment, away from the sickness and despair, but on the other hand, I continued to long for a greater purpose and real connection to someone who might enrich my life. The smiling faces I would see on my walks would only remind me of my own isolation. The other faces I saw were the sunken, pale faces of the homeless, whose ranks I had been a part of and whom I would again be joining before too long. So, it seemed to me at the time, that I saw the future that was denied to me and the future that was inevitable, and those walks ceased to be the respite I needed.
Sunset on Oneida Street. Photo taken on January 3, 2014.
I watched the seasons slowly change outside of the apartment’s ground-level basement window and I watched as my roommate become more and more sick and more and more withdrawn. I felt empathy for him, profoundly so, but I also felt frustration. I watched him consume junk food, smoke marijuana constantly, and then refuse to have visitors or go out all the while complaining of being trapped in his apartment and lonely. My efforts to lift his spirits or to engage him were met with increasing resistance and then finally with indifference altogether. I spent many days just reading, listening to music, sleeping in late, and filling out job applications without hopes or expectations of hearing anything back.
A small group of ducks down by the creek. Photo taken on January 9, 2014.
I would stay on Colorado Boulevard for five months before moving on to the next phase of my journey, which took me to yet another precarious living situation with a far more detrimental effect on my emotional health, and then from there I wound up on the streets.
When it comes to Gothic imagery, there are few artists so fundamental in the creation of an aesthetic as Caspar David Friedrich. Comprised of desolate landscapes, decrepit monasteries, haunted cemeteries, and gnarled forests, his iconic and often operatic paintings conjure up visions of German Romanticism. At once his compositions are simple in their depiction of the majesty of nature as it dwarfs all human endeavors, but his work is also far more complex than that, employing subtle symbolism and allegory in landscapes to comment on what were then political, social, and religious concerns of his time. Are the duo who appear to be admiring the moon, in fact, conspirators who chose this moonlight rendezvous for a clandestine meeting? Whose is the disembodied spirit that hovers above the uneven grounds of the graveyard? What do the trio of companions spot over the cliffs of Rügen? Friedrich’s paintings are more than epic depictions of crumbling abbeys and ancient trees. They are visual journeys into the heart of the past.
“The Abbey in the Oakwood” (1809-1810)
“The Sea of Ice” (circa 1823-1824)
“The Tree of Crows” (circa 1822)
“Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog” (circa 1818)
“Man and Woman Contemplating the Moon” (circa 1824)
“Chalk Cliffs on Rügen” (circa 1818)
“Oak Tree in the Snow” (1829)
“Entrance to the Cemetery” (1825)
“Moonrise by the Sea” (circa 1821)
“Ruins of Eldena, near Greifswald” (circa 1825)
“Garden Bower in Greifswald” (1818)
“Screech Owl on a Cross” (1836-1837)
“Two Men Contemplating the Moon” (1819-1820)
“Evening” (circa 1820-1821)
“Seashore in Moonlight” (1835)
“The Abbey in the Oakwood” (1809-1810)
“The Sea of Ice” (circa 1823-1824)
“The Tree of Crows” (circa 1822)
“Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog” (circa 1818)
“Man and Woman Contemplating the Moon” (circa 1824)
Steeped in allegory, religious imagery, and the darkness and fears within his own soul, the works of Francisco Goya speak much of the world he lived in and the way in which he viewed it. Inspired by the horrors of war, the cautionary tales of myth, and the disarming allure of woman, Goya’s works fit firmly into the Romantic tradition. His grotesque depictions of both real and imagined evils are as harrowing as any ever put on canvas. With his skillful employment of dark and muted tones, heavy brush work, and detailed embellishments of realism, Goya kept his work, even at its most violent and fantastical, grounded in the foundations of reality. He straddled both worlds with ease, just as he stood somewhere between the Old Masters and the New Masters as a legendary painter, perfecting the methods and subject matter of the past while introducing stylistic changed that would revolutionize painting in the 19th Century.
“La Maja Desnuda” (circa 1797-1800)
“La Maja Vestida” (circa 1800-1803)
“The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters (1797-1798)
“Saturn Devouring His Son” (1819-1823)
“The Executions of May 3rd, 1808” (1814)
“Francisca Sabas y Garcia” (1804-1808)
“Majas on a Balcony” (circa 1800-1810)
“Saint Francis of Borja Attending a Dying Man” (1788)
“The Colossus” (circa 1808-1812)
“Truth Rescued by Time, Witnessed by History” (1814)
“The Witches’ Sabbath” (1797-1798)
“The Devil’s Lamp” (1797-1798)
“Two Old Men Eating Soup” (1819-1823)
“Asmodeus – The Witches’ Sabbath” (1819-1823)
“La Maja Desnuda” (circa 1797-1800)
“La Maja Vestida” (circa 1800-1803)
“The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters (1797-1798)
“Saturn Devouring His Son” (1819-1823)
“The Executions of May 3rd, 1808” (1814)
“Francisca Sabas y Garcia” (1804-1808)
“Majas on a Balcony” (circa 1800-1810)
“Saint Francis of Borja Attending a Dying Man” (1788)
“The Colossus” (circa 1808-1812)
“Truth Rescued by Time, Witnessed by History” (1814)
Philosopher. Poet. Artist. William Blake was all of these things. A central figure of the Romantic movement, and a precursor to Symbolism, Blake utilized Judeo-Christian concepts in his artwork and poetry, all the while exploring the ideas of classical philosophy as embodied by the pagan cultures of ancient Greece and Rome, and mining their mythological pantheon for creative metaphors. Throughout all of his work, the same themes resurface time and time again, suggesting a deep and ever-evolving commitment to his convictions of faith and social equality. Rebelling against the dogmas and rigidity of organized religion, Blake confounded his contemporaries who failed to understand why someone with such clear faith in God would reject the church and its doctrines. The Biblical imagery found in his poetry and art is as complex as Blake himself was and shows him often being at odds with himself and the world in which he lived. He was woefully misunderstood in his time, but as Western culture progressed, his work was reevaluated and he has become praised for his genius, if not fully understood. The iconoclast has become an icon to intellectuals, romantics, and rebel spirits, who find within his work an all-encompassing passion and gleaming gems of intelligence.
“The Ancient of Days” (1824)
“The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun” (circa 1803-1805)
“Adam Naming the Beasts” (circa 1810)
“Satan Arousing the Rebel Angels” (1808)
“The Night of Enitharmon’s Joy”, also know as “The Triple Hecate” (circa 1795)
“Newton” (circa 1795)
“Nebuchadnezzar” (1795)
“The Number of the Beast Is 666” (circa 1805-1810)
“The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with Sun” (circa 1805-1810)
“Oberon, Titania, and Puck Dancing with Fairies” (circa 1875)
“The Great Red Dragon and the Beast from the Sea” (circa 1804)
“Glad Day” (circa 1780-1795)
“The Creation of Eve” (1808)
“The Ghost of a Flea” (circa 1819-1820)
“The Ancient of Days” (1824)
“The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun” (circa 1803-1805)
“Adam Naming the Beasts” (circa 1810)
“Satan Arousing the Rebel Angels” (1808)
“The Night of Enitharmon’s Joy”, also know as “The Triple Hecate” (circa 1795)
“Newton” (circa 1795)
“Nebuchadnezzar” (1795)
“The Number of the Beast Is 666” (circa 1805-1810)
“The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with Sun” (circa 1805-1810)
“Oberon, Titania, and Puck Dancing with Fairies” (circa 1875)
“The Great Red Dragon and the Beast from the Sea” (circa 1804)
Few artists have delved so deeply into the darkness of the human psyche as Johann Heinrich Füssli, better known as Henry Fuseli, whose very works are like nightmares realized in oil on canvas. Painted with all the mystery, eroticism, horror, and symbolism that was typical of the Romantic movement, Füssli’s paintings are profound explorations of myth, memory, and dreams, and they provided inspiration for the latter Symbolist and Expressionist genres. As examples of both beauty and grotesquerie, these images fill the mind with simultaneous dread and desire, exciting the senses with a dichotomy of anticipation and apprehension. Modern day art scholars and psychoanalysts recognize the use of archetypal symbology in his work, which might explain the strange enigmatic allure of his grisly depictions of death and decay, violence, and sensual desire emphasized all the more by the stark contrasts of chiaroscuro. Whether this was Füssli’s exact intention or not is difficult to say, but he undoubtedly navigated his own world of fears and longings in the creation of his most impressive pieces, transcending Romanticism and essentially birthing Dark Romanticism. Füssli is, for me, a master of the macabre.
“The Nightmare” (1781)
“Titania and Bottom” (circa 1790)
“Silence” (circa 1799-1801)
“Thor Battering the Midgard Serpent” (circa 1790)
“The Creation of Eve” (1793)
“The Nightmare” (circa 1790)
“Cupid and Psyche” (1810)
“Titania Awakening” (circa 1780-1790)
“The Shepherd’s Dream” (1793)
“Macbeth Consulting the Vision of the Armed Head” (1793)
“The Sin, Followed by Death” (circa 1794-1796)
“An Incubus Leaving Two Sleeping Girls” (1793)
“The Night-Hag Visiting the Lapland Witches” (1796)
“Dido” (1780)
“The Nightmare” (1781)
“Titania and Bottom” (circa 1790)
“Silence” (circa 1799-1801)
“Thor Battering the Midgard Serpent” (circa 1790)
“The Creation of Eve” (1793)
“The Nightmare” (circa 1790)
“Cupid and Psyche” (1810)
“Titania Awakening” (circa 1780-1790)
“The Shepherd’s Dream” (1793)
“Macbeth Consulting the Vision of the Armed Head” (1793)
“The Sin, Followed by Death” (circa 1794-1796)
“An Incubus Leaving Two Sleeping Girls” (1793)
“The Night-Hag Visiting the Lapland Witches” (1796)
With precise execution and an accentuation of detail, Gustave Moreau was for a time one of the most prestigious painters in the world of symbolism, though today his work is largely overlooked. His style was partly illustrative, but its roots in symbolism are deep, and much of his work looks forward and prophetically hints at the Art Nouveau movement that would become ascendent well over a decade later. In his oeuvre, mythological figures are displayed in all their ornate glory, as fantastic centerpieces in understated environments, and as symbols of our complex human nature stripped down to its most fundamental form. Desire, temptation, innocence, beauty, yearning – these are the themes that run through Moreau’s paintings. They’re not particularly unique themes (they are of course the central themes that are found in most of the great artwork in the 18th and 19th Centuries), but Moreau’s work rises above the commonplace. It is lavished the kind of attention and appreciation by his skilled hand that makes each painting a masterpiece. His style is singular, iconic, innovative, and entirely the result of his genius.
“Salome” (1876)
“Helen Glorified” (1897)
“Desdemona” (1875)
“Hesiod and the Muse” (1891)
“Song of Songs” (1893)
“Orpheus” (1865)
“Goddess on the Rocks” (circa 1890)
“Prometheus in Chains” (circa 1880-1885)
“Perseus and Andromeda II” (1870)
“Cleopatra” (circa 1887)
“Perseus and Andromeda I” (1867-1869)
“Salome and the Apparition of the Baptist’s Head” (1876)
“Oedipus and the Sphinx” (1864)
“The Abduction of Europa” (1869)
“Jason and Medea” (1865)
“Salome” (1876)
“Helen Glorified” (1897)
“Desdemona” (1875)
“Hesiod and the Muse” (1891)
“Song of Songs” (1893)
“Orpheus” (1865)
“Goddess on the Rocks” (circa 1890)
“Prometheus” (circa 1880-1885)
“Perseus and Andromeda II” (1870)
“Cleopatra” (circa 1887)
“Perseus and Andromeda I” (1867-1869)
“Salome and the Apparition of the Baptist’s Head” (1876)
As far as symbolism goes, and especially where mythological themes and figures are concerned, Franz von Stuck is one of the premier artists of the turn of the century and into the first couple decades of the 20th Century. Stuck, who was heavily influenced and inspired by fellow symbolist Böcklin, succeeded in bridging the more classical symbolist style of the late 19th Century with the more modern aesthetic approaches of the Art Nouveau era. His use of gold adornments in his paintings, his simple yet bold color palette, and his focus on elaborate details and embellishments endow his work with a distinctive style. Like many symbolist painters, his work is steeped in the erotic and the morbid, the two are often combined in his dark mythological and Biblical scenes, wherein a beauteous and often morally unscrupulous femme fatale put hers feminine charms to corruptive and destructive use. Stuck remains a favorite of mine for his willingness, and indeed his innate ability, to depict transgressions and horrors so seductively.
“Salome” (1906)
“Sisyphus” (1920)
“Lucifer” (1890)
“Judith” (1924)
“The Sin” (1893)
“Tilla Durieux as Circe” (1913)
“The Guardian of Paradise” (1889)
“The Inferno” (circa 1890)
“Adam and Eve” (circa 1920-1928)
“Perseus Turns Phineas to Stone by Brandishing the Head of Medusa” (1908)
“The Three Goddesses: Athena, Hera, Aphrodite (circa 1923)
“Judith and Holofernes – Version I” (1926)
“Susanna in the Bath” (1913)
“Judith and Holofernes II” (1927)
“Sensuality” (1891)
“Salome” (1906)
“Sisyphus” (1920)
“Lucifer” (1890)
“Judith” (1924)
“The Sin” (1893)
“Tilla Durieux as Circe” (1913)
“The Guardian of Paradise” (1889)
“The Inferno” (circa 1890)
“Adam and Eve” (circa 1920-1928)
“Perseus Turns Phineas to Stone by Brandishing the Head of Medusa” (1908)
“The Three Goddesses: Athena, Hera, Aphrodite (circa 1923)
Arnold Böcklin is for me one of the great Symbolist painters of the latter part of the 19th Century. In a few short years between the 1880s and his death in 1901, he produced a body of work that was simultaneously beautiful and grotesque to behold. Blending Gothic romanticism, symbolism, and academicism. His latter works, in particular, took his mythological subject matter into darker, more ominous, and more overtly erotic territories, all the while showcasing his considerable talent for creating dynamic compositions and atmospheric landscapes. His attention to detail and his bold brush strokes combined to create a unique method (especially at a time where most artists were prone to focus on either technique or expression), giving Böcklin a mastery over both. While he may not be as celebrated today – a real crime, in my opinion – the legacy of incredibly vivid and morbid paintings he produced speaks for itself: Böcklin was a master.
“The Plague” (1898)
“Self-Portrait with Death Playing the Fiddle” (1872)
“Isle of the Dead – Version III” (1883)
“The Chapel” (1898)
“War II” (1896)
“Medusa” (circa 1878)
“War I” (1896)
“The Surf” (1883)
“Odysseus and Polyphemus” (1896)
“Attack by Pirates” (circa 1880)
“Isle of the Dead – Version V” (1886)
“Roger and Angelica” (1873)
“The Plague” (1898)
“Self-Portrait with Death Playing the Fiddle” (1872)
Gustav Klimt is probably the singular artist I think of as embodying the Vienna Secession and the Jugendstil, or Art Nouveau, movements. Utilizing eroticism, romance, youth, and other classical elements, Klimt touched upon all the usual human themes that permeate art and culture, but he did so in an aesthetically unique way. Klimt drew from symbolism, aestheticism, and ancient Egyptian and Byzantine art, giving his work an entirely unique style, especially during his golden phase. As he progressed creatively, he placed an increasing emphasis on femininity and female sexuality, at first represented within the context of mythological figures and then later more directly and controversially in his more graphic drawings. Like Munch and Redon, Klimt’s work has grown on me over the years, as I’ve identified more and more with his subject matter and approach, and today I can easily call him one of my favorite artists.
“The Kiss” (1908-1909)
“Portrait of Mäda Primavesi” (1912)
“Nuda Veritas” (1899)
“Danae” (1907-1908)
“The Three Ages of Woman” (1905)
“The Sunflower” (1906-1907)
“Judith and the Head of Holofernes” (1901)
“The Hostile Forces” from “The Beethoven Frieze” (1902)
“The Girlfriends” (1916)
“Tragedy” (1897)
“Church in Cassone” (1913)
“Portrait of a Man from the Front” (1907)
“Pallas Athene” (1898)
“The Kiss” (1908-1909)
“Portrait of Mäda Primavesi” (1912)
“Nuda Veritas” (1899)
“Danae” (1907-1908)
“The Three Ages of Woman” (1905)
“The Sunflower” (1906-1907)
“Judith and the Head of Holofernes” (1901)
“The Hostile Forces” from “The Beethoven Frieze” (1902)
Some artists have created such indelible and iconic images that one work comes to encompass their whole legacy. While it takes a great genius to create such a work, what is unfortunate is that he or she may have created many more masterpieces that go unappreciated or are overshadowed by the artist’s previous success. In the case of Edvard Munch, he became so renowned and so famous for two or three pieces (namely The Scream, Puberty, and Madonna), that the rest of his extraordinary oeuvre has remained relatively obscure to the public. Most who know of Munch have one, two, or three images emblazoned in their mind’s eye and know little or nothing else of the Norwegian artist. They probably associate his work with Post-Impressionism and Proto-Expressionism during the fin-de-siècle. Few are aware that Munch continued to produce haunting and emotionally evocative work well into the early 1940s before his death at the age of 80 in 1944. Though the Nazis deemed his work “degenerate art” and had him banned, he has continued to inspire artists and aesthetes who see his work for its true value with all of its innovative technique, melancholy subject matter, and always relevant human themes. Munch deserves not only wider recognition of his works, but also a deeper understanding of his social importance within the art world, and this warrants another look, or perhaps a first look for many, of his genius.
If we do not have freedom to speak to one another and to listen to one another, then we do not have the freedom to learn, and if we are prohibited from expressing the very thoughts we think or the emotions we feel, then our very minds are being prohibited. The dangers of censorship are very simple: it is a violation of our freedoms to simply acknowledge our existence. Censorship is the first step leading down into the prison cell of oppression and tyranny. It is for this reason that I have gathered the following quotes on censorship, oppression, and the importance of free speech, taken from many different great minds from many different eras.
The First Amendment to the United States’ Bill of Rights guarantees all citizens the right to practice the religion of their choice or to choose not to, to protect freedom of the press, and ensure that citizens can gather collectively in safety to voice political dissent.
“Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? (translation: Who will guard the guardsmen?, alternate translation: Who will watch the watchmen?)”
– Juvenal
“If all printers were determined not to print anything ’til they were sure it would offend nobody, there would be very little printed.”
– Benjamin Franklin
“To limit the press is to insult a nation; to prohibit reading of certain books is to declare the inhabitants to be either fools or slaves: such a prohibition ought to fill them with disdain.”
– Claude Adrien Helvétius
“Men are not admitted into Heaven because they have curbed or governed their passions, but because they have cultivated their understandings. The treasures of Heaven are not negations of passion, but realities of intellect, from which all the passions emanate un-curbed in their eternal glory. The fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so holy.”
– William Blake
“Censorship is telling a man he can’t have a steak just because a baby can’t chew it.”
– Mark Twain
“I maintain my right to die as I have lived – a free woman, not cowed into silence by any other human being.”
– Ida Craddock
“All censorships exist to prevent anyone from challenging current conceptions and existing institutions. All progress is initiated by challenging current conceptions, and executed by supplanting existing institutions. Consequently, the first condition of progress is the removal of censorship.”
– George Bernard Shaw
“I disapprove of what you say, but will defend to the death your right to say it.”
– Evelyn Beatrice Hall
“All the papers that matter live off their advertisements, and the advertisers exercise an indirect censorship over news.”
– George Orwell
“Once a government is committed to the principle of silencing the voice of opposition, it has only one way to go, and that is down the path of increasingly repressive measures, until it becomes a source of terror to all its citizens and creates a country where everyone lives in fear.”
– Harry S. Truman
“Don’t join the book burners. Don’t think you’re going to conceal faults by concealing evidence that they ever existed. Don’t be afraid to go in your library and read every book…”
– Dwight D. Eisenhower
“You don’t have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.”
– Ray Bradbury
“If this nation is to be wise as well as strong, if we are to achieve our destiny, then we need more new ideas for more wise men reading more good books in more public libraries. These libraries should be open to all — except the censor. We must know all the facts and hear all the alternatives and listen to all the criticisms. Let us welcome controversial books and controversial authors. For the Bill of Rights is the guardian of our security as well as our liberty.”
– John F. Kennedy
“If you can’t say ‘fuck’, then you can’t say, ‘Fuck the government.’”
– Lenny Bruce
“All these people talk so eloquently about getting back to good old-fashioned values. Well, as an old poop I can remember back to when we had those old-fashioned values, and I say let’s get back to the good old-fashioned First Amendment of the good old-fashioned Constitution of the United States – and to hell with the censors! Give me knowledge or give me death!”
– Kurt Vonnegut
“The only valid censorship of ideas is the right of people not to listen.”
– Tommy Smothers
“In this age of censorship, I mourn the loss of books that will never be written, I mourn the voices that will be silenced-writers’ voices, teachers’ voices, students’ voices – and all because of fear.”
– Judy Blume
“All of us can think of a book… that we hope none of our children or any other children have taken off the shelf. But if I have the right to remove that book from the shelf – that work I abhor – then you also have exactly the same right and so does everyone else. And then we have no books left on the shelf for any of us.”
– Katherine Paterson
“Censorship is to art as lynching is to justice.”
– Henry Louis Gates, Jr.
“Why did they devise censorship? To show a world which doesn’t exist, an ideal world, or what they envisaged as the ideal world. And we wanted to depict the world as it was.”
– Krzysztof Kieślowski
“There is no such thing as a dirty word. Nor is there a word so powerful, that it’s going to send the listener to the lake of fire upon hearing it.”
– Frank Zappa
This is part of the ongoing series of articles about the Temple of Art exhibition and documentary. Directed by photographer Allan Amato, executive produced by Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, and Jon Schnepp, Temple of Art: The Documentary chronicles the lives of artists and asks them why they create their art.
…Temple of Art…
There are many facets to Satine Phoenix. Her exuberance, like her creativity, cannot be easily confined. Satine’s work is very much the product of her imagination and her passions, which run the gamut from the sensuous to the fantastical. As one of the artists contributing to the Temple of Art project, I interviewed Satine about her work and her involvement with ToA. Here’s the interview.
Satine Phoenix as seen by the lens of Allan Amato’s camera.
Sean: Have you always been interested in art and creative expression?
Satine: This question is funny to me because the answer is more than yes. When you live and breathe a certain way you don’t realize that people don’t live the way you do or interact with the world the way you do. I just am, and my “am” is a creative “am”. Though my illustrations started when I was a kid and didn’t know how to be honest with my feelings and thoughts. I would say one thing and draw how I really felt. That’s why there’s so much emotion in my drawings… because they are my actual emotions.
Sean: Unlike many artists that I’ve known who are introverts, you’re more of an extrovert. With the artists who are more quiet or reserved, they tend to be very expressive in their artwork. You, however, are very expressive in both your interactions with people and in your art. How do you maintain that level of enthusiasm and energy in both your personal life and in your art?
Satine: I have a lot of energy. I’ve always been social and love to feed off of other people’s energy, especially creatively. So, I’m actually an optimistic introvert who is amazed by things like a six-year old… or I guess I’m both (an introvert and an extrovert as I live in both extremes). And that makes sense. I’m a Gemini. Laugh about those astrological signs all you want, but the duality of the monkey in me is a real thing. I love going out and having fun and learning and feeling and then I get overwhelmed and have to run inside and recharge for weeks at a time. I can’t even talk on the phone without being warned ahead of time. The photos you see of me online are when I leave my house for an hour to visit friends. I take a ton of photos and play then go home… and I’m enthusiastic. It’s just in my nature.
“Fan art – Le Blanc from ‘League of Legends'” (2013) shows the strong influences of comic books, manga, and fantasy art on Satine.
Sean: As someone who has her hands in so many areas of the entertainment industry, from acting to modeling, from illustration to storytelling, how do you balance your passions and still have time for all the great projects that you do like Temple of Art or your graphic novel, New Praetorians?
Satine: Balance? As I said, I have a lot of energy. Many years as a hustler has whet my palate with hunger for many different projects. Now I’m an artist who has a day job (doing New Praetorians). Sure, I could just sit back and work on this one gig for the next ten years (because that’s how long it will take me to do all 27 issues and extras we have planned), but that would drive me nuts, so it’s not really choosing to balance lots of projects. I need lots of projects or I get bored. Lots of all different kinds to satisfy all the different facets of me. Moment to moment I figure out how to fit everything in. Sometimes I’m successful at it. Other times I let projects build up and stress myself out and get overwhelmed. Luckily New Praetorians is my constant project, so it is my center, and for people like me it’s good to have a constant. My artistic endeavors won’t end with comics either. I’ve got a children’s book I have on the list, an animation and an autobiography, documentary, and short film I’ll be working on as well. Outside of work, I want to learn a language, get better at tango, am a fitness nerd/gym fox, want to learn the violin, get better at archery, do more marathons, climb more mountains, etc…. Never live with the regret of not doing what you dream. Maybe that’s how I balance, I know I’m working through my dream lists and sometimes they overlap. But the stress is worth it. 100%.
Sean: How did you become involved with Temple of Art?
Satine: Well, Allan is one of my best friends and I wanted to support Temple of Art and then when it started to become real he asked me to participate! That was really kind of him to believe in me enough to ask as I’m not a seasoned artist like the rest of the TOA clan. (I did go the Academy of Art for 5 years… that counts ya?)
Sean: Can you describe the process of having Allan Amato photograph you and then reinterpreting that photo with your own unique artistic touch?
Satine: Artists hang out differently than other people. When I hang out with many of my photographer friends, we usually just do photo shoots (aka: hanging out) and then go to lunch. Who knows what will come of the photos! It’s not like I sell them or anything. But that’s how we hang out; we create art. Allan and I have shot a few times together and I love being engulfed in his art. I’m hyper-observant and enjoy watching him in his element. So, being photographed by Allan was just another day of playing with my friend. The hard part was coming up with an idea that wouldn’t cover up his art. I didn’t want to cover it… but I also couldn’t paint on a drawing of myself looking at me, so I got rid of the eyes. (laughter) It’s a very vulnerable feeling. If I were to draw what I want all of the time, I’d draw girls wrapped up in girls in a sea of girls. That makes me happy for some reason. Not in a sexual way, but a sensual way. So, I drew girls all wrapped around the photo he took. I prefer black and white but added some color. This style is a bit cartoony, but so am I. And I wanted it to represent me specifically.
Allan Amato’s portrait of Satine, which Satine has personalized and enhanced with her own imagery. To see the final version of the portrait, buy the “Temple of Art” book!
Sean: With Temple of Art: The Documentary, you are part of an amazing collective of creative talents, both in front of the camera and behind it. What has it been like associating with all of these diverse people who are being brought together by their need to create art?
Satine: This collection of artists is mind blowing. I admire all of them and have learned so much by chatting and getting to know everyone I’ve met so far. It’s one of the biggest learning experiences and growth experiences I’ve had. Finding out about other artist’s processes and lifestyles makes me realize how I relate and how it’s okay to embrace one’s weirdness and how it’s healthy for an artist to follow their specific intuitions.
Sean: Have you found the Temple of Art experience to be inspiring or challenging?
Satine: Yes, so deliciously inspiring. An inspiration injection right into my eye holes!
“John Hurt as the War Doctor” (2014) is a great example of Satine’s intense and evocative line work, as well as being ample evidence of her Whovian status.
Sean: In your opinion, what is the most special thing about Temple of Art?
Satine: The most special thing about Temple of Art is that so many people out there really do appreciate the artists that create their favorite images. They are interested in the lives and processes. In this bizarre decade of throwaway everything, it’s hard to know if anyone is really paying attention, if anyone cares. Sure we make art because our souls can’t help it, but for me… it’s a way to connect with the outside world and to find out the outside does care… well, that’s tops!
Sean: What other projects are you currently working on?
Satine: My main big art baby is my 27-issue graphic novel, New Praetorians, which will be out Spring/Summer 2015. I’m finishing chapter three right now. There’s always the celebrity charity Dungeons & Dragons game I throw at Meltdown Comics. Celebritycharitydnd.com will launch a week from now once we have the charity (RORLosAngeles.org) donation center live. The big game day is November 2nd, but you’ll be able to donate before then as well. I’m excited to see the book Mistress Absolute is publishing. I drew about ten plus images for it. I don’t know what else I’m allowed to say about it right now. Pretty much just follow me on Facebook as I’m doing something bizarre and new every week from covers to RPGs to coasters for the La Luz De Jesus Annual Coaster Show.
Sean: Just for fun… what was it like being there with Allan Amato (ToA direct0r) and Stephanie Inagaki (ToA artist) when Neil Gaiman (ToA producer) took the ALS ice bucket challenge?
Satine: Allan, Stephanie, and I are all best friends, so they got to see the ecstatic giddy-kat Satine about this dreamy moment. I do believe Stephanie and I frolicked quite a bit about it. Satine also took the ALS ice bucket challenge solo with a unique twist…
“His and Hers Dragons” (2013) is a beautiful diptych that pays homage to Satine’s love of all things fantasy.
Satine Phoenix is an artist and illustrator, an avid Dungeons & Dragons player, a former adult entertainer, a model, an actress, a storyteller, a gym fox and fitness nerd. Her work can be found on her website, her Instagram page, her Facebook page, her Burning Quill online art portfolio, and ordered on Big Cartel, HERE. She is also available for commissions.
This is part of the ongoing series of articles about the Temple of Art exhibition and documentary. Directed by photographer Allan Amato, executive produced by Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, and Jon Schnepp, Temple of Art: The Documentary chronicles the lives of artists and asks them why they create their art.
…Temple of Art…
J.A.W. Cooper takes her inspiration from environmental and natural themes, from animals, and from the animalistic side of people. Her artwork explores the delicate and often complicated relationship between humanity and nature and it contemplates the fate of the outsider and the misunderstood, celebrating them even in their flawed state. As a part of the ambitiously epic and deeply personal Temple of Art project, Cooper, as she prefers to be called, was one of the artists I wanted to interview early on. I wanted to find out who the personality behind the imagery is and fortunately she agreed to do the following interview.
Allan Amato’s portrait of artist J.A.W. Cooper.
Sean: One aspect of your life which is fascinating is that growing up you spent so much time traveling, in America, in Europe, and in Africa. You’ve mentioned that greatly helped to inform you creatively. How did the places you’ve lived inspire your artwork or shape your perspectives on art?
Cooper: Growing up somewhat nomadically to ecologist parents gave me an insatiable curiosity toward the natural world, but also a fascination for how incredibly different the realities that we live in are, not only culturally but even person-to-person. Perceptions of reality and a fascination toward nature remain the strongest driving forces in my work!
“Petrified” (2012) depicts the destruction of the environment and ecosystems by both natural and anthropogenic causes.
Sean: Our relationship with nature, with animals, and with the environment plays an important role in the images you create. Is there a specific issue that you try to address or a specific message you want to convey in your work?
Cooper: I am very interested in human’s connection to nature as animals and I tend to fixate on the more undomesticated and feral aspects of being human. The nature symbols and animals in my work are almost always intended as metaphors for the wildness inside us. I will occasionally get flack for depicting violence toward animals or dead animals in my work which confuses me as the animals represent aspects of the human condition and the violence is not intended to be taken literally.
Sean: Something I noticed with your illustrations is that there’s a great deal of expressive emphasis on the eyes of your characters. Do you express your own emotions in your art, or do you try to evoke emotions in viewers, or both?
Cooper: Each of my pieces have both a very personal significance and a broader concept, so my own experiences and perspective on reality certainly drive a good deal of the content and concept. The eyes are important to me and I try to capture them in a moment of transparency, without self-awareness, like an animal, unabashed.
“Nomad” (2013) is a great example of Cooper’s emphasis on expressive eyes and clean line work. The woman in the sketch has an air of mystery to her.
Sean: What artists, in any media, have inspired you or consciously influenced your work?
Cooper: Hokusai, Hiroshige, Sargent, Leyendecker, Haeckel, Audubon, Mucha, Toulouse-Lautrec, Steinlen and Chéret, just to name a few. I am of course drawn to artwork with a strong connection to nature and science, or with a stylization of reality that I can relate to.
Sean: How did you become involved in Temple of Art?
Cooper: I was introduced to Allan Amato through Matt Kennedy who is the gallery director of La Luz de Jesus Gallery. I came on to the project toward the end so I had the benefit of seeing some of the other finished pieces, but the challenge of working very quickly to get my pieces done by the due date.
Sean: The project is unique for a number of reasons. One of those is that it brings together so many diverse artists all working in different styles and even different mediums in a cooperative and celebratory environment. Another is that it each artist is given an opportunity to express his or herself in collaborative way with Allan and with each other. What has the experience been like for you working with your peers?
Cooper: Working with Allan Amato was incredibly easy – he really has a gift for taking portraits with almost an elevated sense of reality – and the product is an image which is somehow more “you” than “you,” or perhaps “you” at your absolute best. I am pretty camera shy, but I love the portraits that he took of me, and it was very easy to incorporate them into a painting.
Sean: The portraits that Allan took of you are really remarkable. There’s a rather charming one of you smiling at the camera. There’s also another, which you are using as the basis for your piece in the project, in which Allan caught you in a truly memorable pose that is difficult to describe. Were you posing with a specific composition in mind or was that spontaneous?
Cooper: Allan is just a wizard! That “creeper” pose came from my off-handed comment to Allan that I would like to look like a feral girl, and Allan slowly directed me into that pose very naturally. For one shot he told me to stick my neck out as far as I possible could, like a turtle. And voilà!
The portrait of artist J.A.W. Cooper by Allan Amato. Cooper has then reinterpreted the photograph by adding her own personal touches to it in paint, turning an objective image into a subjective one.
Sean: If there is one thing that you would like for non-artists to understand about your creative process, what would it be?
Cooper: My work can be twisted and dark, but it is not because I think life is ugly; more that I think twisted and dark is beautiful.
Sean: I think that the Temple of Art documentary has the potential to be not only immensely enlightening about the creative process, but also very entertaining as well. What do you hope people take away from it?
Cooper: As a person fascinated by different perspectives on reality, it is so captivating to see other creatives talk about their processes, motivations, fears, etc.. I think artists and non-artists alike will be excited to get a glimpse into the inner workings of their favorite working artists, and it provides a deeper understanding and perspective on the art that they love. On a broader scale it opens up a dialogue about how we all experience life and how those perspectives impact us and our connection to others.
Sean: Just for fun… your work features many different animals from nature, as well as imagined creatures. Do you have one animal that you identify with?
Cooper: I… oh man, yes… my spirit animal is an Ermine (short tailed weasel.) So goofy to have a “spirit animal”, perhaps it is less embarrassing to say that it is an animal that I identify with and that I have chosen to have special significance in my work.
“Rise” (2013) is a fascinating piece with its themes of nature, subtle eroticism, and even perhaps a sense of spirituality.
J.A.W. Cooper was born in England, but she grew up in Africa, Sweden, Ireland, and California. She is a freelance illustrator, sketch artist, and conceptual artist. Cooper’s work can be found on her Instagram page, her website, andher blog.
Some people don’t like to read because they find it dull and tiresome. Others struggle to read because of educational disorders or poor vision. Because literacy is so important, and because this is September and it is National Literacy Month, here are a list of quotes showing the many reasons why books are perhaps mankind’s greatest creation.
“I cannot live without books.” – Thomas Jefferson
“I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.” – Jane Austen
“Books are the treasured wealth of the world and the fit inheritance of generations and nations” – Henry David Thoreau
“When I am king they shall not have bread and shelter only, but also teachings out of books, for a full belly is little worth where the mind is starved.” – Mark Twain
“Literature is my Utopia. Here I am not disenfranchised. No barrier of the senses shuts me out from the sweet, gracious discourses of my book friends. They talk to me without embarrassment or awkwardness.” – Helen Keller
“Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.” – Groucho Marx
“You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.” – C. S. Lewis
“There is no friend as loyal as a book.” – Ernest Hemingway
“A library is a good place to go when you feel unhappy, for there, in a book, you may find encouragement and comfort. A library is a good place to go when you feel bewildered or undecided, for there, in a book, you may have your question answered. Books are good company, in sad times and happy times, for books are people – people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.” – E. B. White
“I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.” – Jorge Luis Borges
“Fill your house with stacks of books, in all the crannies and all the nooks.” – Dr. Seuss
“I still love books. Nothing a computer can do can compare to a book. You can’t really put a book on the Internet. Three companies have offered to put books by me on the Net, and I said, ‘If you can make something that has a nice jacket, nice paper with that nice smell, then we’ll talk.’ All the computer can give you is a manuscript. People don’t want to read manuscripts. They want to read books. Books smell good. They look good. You can press it to your bosom. You can carry it in your pocket.” – Ray Bradbury
“A book is made from a tree. It is an assemblage of flat, flexible parts (still called ‘leaves’) imprinted with dark pigmented squiggles. One glance at it and you hear the voice of another person, perhaps someone dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, the author is speaking, clearly and silently, inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people, citizens of distant epochs, who never knew one another. Books break the shackles of time ― proof that humans can work magic.” – Carl Sagan
“So many books, so little time.” – Frank Zappa
“If you go home with somebody, and they don’t have books, don’t fuck ’em!” – John Waters
“Books are the perfect entertainment: no commercials, no batteries, hours of enjoyment for each dollar spent. What I wonder is why everybody doesn’t carry a book around for those inevitable dead spots in life.” – Stephen King
“Books may well be the only true magic.” – Alice Hoffman
“What I say is, a town isn’t a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it’s got a bookstore it knows it’s not fooling a soul.” – Neil Gaiman
“A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.” – George R. R. Martin
“If you don’t like to read, you haven’t found the right book.” – J. K. Rowling
“A half-read book is a half-finished love affair.” – David Mitchell
This is part of the ongoing series of articles about the Temple of Art exhibition and documentary. Directed by photographer Allan Amato, executive produced by Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, and Jon Schnepp, Temple of Art: The Documentary chronicles the lives of artists and asks them why they create their art.
…Temple of Art…
Stephanie Inagaki‘s imagery is startling in its complex dualities. It manages to simultaneously contrast eroticism and violence, beauty and decay, life and death, all the while maintaining a harmonious and even sensuous balance of these themes. She brilliantly explores themes which are deeply personal to her by employing motifs that carry along the rich cultural traditions of her heritage and imbues them with her own meaning. Equally surrealistic and expressive, she mines her emotions and uses her body in order to create, in her own words, a “landscape where double self examinations occur through portraiture and self ruminations of the negative and positive…“
“A Murder of Crows – Renewal/Resurrection” (2013). A dark and provocative piece by Stephanie Inagaki exemplifying her symbolic use of feathers, hair, and the dichotomous juxtaposition of life and death, beauty and decay.
Sean: For people who may not be familiar with your work, you have a deeply personal style, often creating extraordinary self-portraits, and you utilize recurring symbolic motifs such as crows, human hair, feathers, and kimonos. Your work also has a very strong sense of your cultural heritage, drawing a lot from Japanese mythological archetypes. How do all of these things come together in your artwork and what meaning do they have for you?
Stephanie: Through our memories and histories, we attach meaning and associations to objects. I have used these objects as symbols to create a mythological narrative in order to process my experiences. For example, crows generally have a negative connotation, but for me they represent Love and Loyalty.
Sean: You had your first solo exhibition earlier this year at Century Guild. Can you tell me some about what that was like and what your feelings were leading up to it as well as after?
Stephanie: It was a whirlwind! My show was initially slated for the Fall of this year but with scheduling, we decided to push it forward. I had about a month and a half to finish twelve pieces. It was an intense challenge, since I have never worked that fast, but I was up for it and it was really exciting.
“Nesting – Ningyo” (2014). One of the four “Nesting” pieces, combining charcoal drawing and collaged washi paper to beautiful effect.
Sean: You, Allan Amato, and David Mack have all worked together before and been featured together in different galleries and exhibitions. What is your dynamic like together?
Stephanie: We get along really well. Sometimes you get friends clashing, especially when it comes to artists who tend to be A Types, but the work flow is organic and productive.
Sean: How did you come to be a part of the Temple of Art project?
Stephanie: Allan Amato is one of my best friends and has been a huge supporter of my art.
Sean: Temple of Art is very unique, not only in its scope and the number of artists involved, but also because it’s a collaborative project, and the artists’ styles and aesthetics are so distinct and eclectic. How does it feel to be part of this collective of people and what has the collaboration process been like for you?
Stephanie: It is really exciting to be in a project with such a wide range of talent. Being based in Los Angeles, I’m grateful that I’ve been able to participate in all the events we’ve had. This collaboration opened up a new working process for me. I started incorporating collage and colour into my body of work because of this.
Nesting – Kitsune (2014). One of the gorgeous pieces that Stephanie produced for the “Metamorphosis” show at Century Guild. A lovely example of her recent growth artistically and expansion into the use of collage and colors.
Sean: One of the most stunning and haunting portraits I’ve seen in Temple of Art so far, is a powerful portrait that Allan did of you, where your hair is rising up in these inky tendrils. Could you give me an insight into this portrait?
Stephanie: Thank you so much! My portrait for the project was done before the inception of Temple of Art. Allan wanted to make an artist’s portrait of me as my ‘medium,’ which is charcoal and it ended up being the portrait he chose to have me work on. It was a challenge since he gave me a compositionally finished portrait, unlike most of the straightforward black and white photographs.
Portrait of Stephanie Inagaki, taken in 2012 by Allan Amato, which helped inspire the creation of “Temple of Art”.
Sean: Temple of Art had a panel at San Diego Comic-Con. What was the whole Comic-Con experience like for you?
Stephanie: It was exhilarating and nerve-wracking at the same time! I hadn’t spoken in front of a huge group of people for a very long time, let alone being interviewed amongst some of the best creatives in the industry. I was extremely honoured to be able to sit as equals with such talent.
Sean: You’ve done a number of Kickstarter projects now. How do you think crowd-sourcing is changing the way that creators and their fans interact?
Stephanie: I think it’s a great way to connect with your fans directly, especially since patrons haven’t existed like they did in the early 1900s. It allows for fans to help support your work by simply sharing the information or by being able to own a piece of artwork, tiered at different monetary levels. It’s a win-win situation.
Sean: The Temple of Art documentary is a really fascinating and profound opportunity for both people involved in the creation of art and for people who enjoy artwork to have a kind of insider’s view into the creative impulse of artists and to see different artists’ approach to their work. What do you hope people will take away from Temple of Art?
Stephanie: I hope it gets to inspire, motivate, and inform people about the beauty of art and the creative process behind what drives it.
Sean: And just for fun, if you could meet any artist, living or deceased, from any era, who worked in any genre, who would it be?
Stephanie: Dalí.
“The Vampiric Deception of Disembodied Souls” (2014).
Stephanie Inagaki is an exceptional up-and-coming artist and one of the founders ofTemple of Art, along with Allan Amato, David Mack, and Bill Sienkiewicz. Earlier this year, Metamorphosis, her first solo exhibition was held at Century Guild in Los Angeles, where some of her most inventive works were displayed to enthusiasm and lauded for their originality. Over the past few years, she has produced an impressive body of work, which recalls traditional Japanese images and imbues them with a modernity and individuality all of her own creation. In addition to her artwork, she also creates unique pieces of jewelry as part of her Miyu Decay line, which can be found HERE.
This is part of the ongoing series of articles about the Temple of Art exhibition and documentary. Directed by photographer Allan Amato, executive produced by Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, and Jon Schnepp, Temple of Art: The Documentary chronicles the lives of artists and asks them why they create their art.
…Temple of Art…
If you’re not familiar with the name Allan Amato, and hopefully most of you reading this are, you are very likely to recognize his photographs. Allan is one of the premier commercial photographers and he has photographed some of the most talented actors, directors, writers, musicians, and artists that you can imagine. He’s photographed everyone, from legendary comic book writers and artists (Stan Lee, Grant Morrison, Neil Gaiman, and Dave McKean) to today’s biggest television and movie stars (Nathan Fillion, Alan Tudyk, Thomas Jane, Danny Trejo, Andy Dick, and Stephanie Leonidas), from rock musicians (Amanda Palmer, Al Jourgensen, and Gerard Way) to film directors (Terry Gilliam, Guillermo del Toro, Robert Rodriguez, Kevin Smith, and Jon Favreau). That’s one heck of a resumé right there.
Chuck Palahniuk (2014). Allan’s recent portrait of the acclaimed and controversial writer Chuck Palahniuk, author of the transgressive novels “Fight Club”, “Choke”, “Damned”, and its sequel “Doomed”.
Allan has also done some deeply personal and powerful projects, of which Temple of Art is just the latest and perhaps one of his most ambitious, including Illuminate Parkinson’s, a project inspired by one of his very dear friend’s struggle with Parkinson’s Disease. The Illuminate Parkinson’s project, which like Temple of Art, was launched on Kickstarter, was a traveling gallery exhibition featuring photographic portraits of people with Parkinson’s and of various celebrities who were kind enough to allow Allan to photograph them to help raise awareness of the disease. He also has done a series of very stylish erotic photographs collectively known as Boudoir Steampunk Porn.
Being very enthusiastic about Temple of Art, I contacted Allan and asked if he would be interested in my doing a series of articles on the project and on the people involved, and fortunately, he agreed to.
Sean: The Temple of Art documentary has had an interesting evolution, having begun in 2012 and grown gradually since. Where did the seed of inspiration for the Temple of Art project come from and what is the history behind it?
Allan: I photographed David Mack, the visionary writer and artist behind Kabuki, first, back in 2012, thanks to an introduction through our mutual friend, Olga Nunes. The images that resulted were and continue to be some of my all time favorites, and we both got along incredibly well. I felt compelled to do a little Photoshop to one of the shots, and eventually asked whether David would paint over the image itself, thereby making it one of a kind, rather than an infinitely reproducible digital file.
Sean: How did you assemble the impressive and diverse group of artists involved?
Allan: Shortly thereafter, David brought the legendary Bill Sienkiewicz to the studio, and what began as an attempt to enslave David for the next decade as my indentured artist and all round valet, became the germ for Temple of Art, which has at last count enslaved and/or encouraged over fifty artists to sit for a portrait with me, then drawing, collaging, painting, etc on the final printed image. Pillars of the comics industry like Dave McKean, David Mack, and Bill Sienkiewicz rubbing ink dusted elbows with fine art giants Kent Williams, Barron Storey, and Jason Shawn Alexander. Then it just kept growing after that. I added a New York-based co-producer, Marc Scheff, and ultimately traveled east to photograph twenty-one New York artists as well, so we are quite the diaspora if you include Grant Morrison, Dave McKean and Mark Buckingham in the UK.
Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman (2010). Allan’s iconic portrait of an iconic couple, Amanda Palmer, indie musician and the provocative singer of The Dresden Dolls, and Neil Gaiman, acclaimed author of “The Sandman”, “American Gods”, and “The Graveyard Book”.
Sean: You’ve had the rare opportunity to photograph so many creative talents for this project, as well as for other projects, and you have been able to collaborate with this rather extraordinary collective of people. I notice that you have a few recurrent collaborators, such as Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, Dave McKean, Grant Morrison, etc.. How did you come together and could you briefly describe your relationship with them?
Allan: I met everyone with the exception of Amanda, on various photoshoots. Both Neil and Grant during shoots for Coilhouse magazine, Dave for another project called Genius. All three contributed to the Illuminate Parkinson’s charity as well, I might add. I’ve known Amanda for a while, through Neil and a few other mutual friends, but we’ve only just finished our first big project together: her book cover! She asked whether I knew of any artists who might want to come and paint on her for the book, and luckily I happen to know one or two.
Sean: One of the things that I love about your photography is that your images are so vivid and evocative. Your Illuminate Parkinson’s project a few years ago, which was clearly a very personal endeavor and which I thought was brilliantly done, not only helped to raise awareness and funds for people affected by the disease, but it also gave you the unique opportunity to photograph a wide array of writers, artists, musicians, actors, and filmmakers. In those photos, you tapped into each subject’s personality and projected it visually in their environment. How has that been different, for you, from this project where you have taken photos of artists and they have then have elaborated on them, creating uniquely individualistic and expressive representations of themselves?
Allan: I was fully in the driver’s seat for that, whereas for this project, once the shoot was over and the portrait selected, I had to let go. Not easy for a person used to controlling every facet of his work.
Illuminate Parkinson’s – Terry Gilliam (2012). Allan’s brilliant portrait of director Terry Gilliam, best known for his films “Time Bandits”,”Brazil”, “The Fisher King” and “12 Monkeys”. The portrait was done to help raise awareness for Parkinson’s.
Sean: With Temple of Art, you’re placing a spotlight on artists that many people are familiar with on some level or another, but also on artists who are perhaps not as established in the public consciousness and yet who have created remarkable work. How do you see your role in putting them in helping them to reach a wider audience?
Allan: That is one of my favorite elements, that as the project progressed, I had the opportunity to curate new artists, to find new work I love. It fits beautifully into the narrative I have planned for the documentary as well.
Sean: This isn’t the first Kickstarter project that you’ve been a part of. What has your experience been with crowd-sourcing and how do you feel that it can help to transform the way that creative people and their fans interact, exchange ideas, and support one another?
Allan: I believe that the fact there that there are new resources available for artists, inventors, writers, creatives at large, to realize their crazy anarchist dreams is utterly incredible. I’m experimenting a little with incorporating both old and new media in this endeavor, by co-producing the book with the publisher Baby Tattoo, and integrating it with the crowd-funding platform for the film. It’ll be interesting. I will say that unlike my previous project, this has been my full-time job for three months. I have a new appreciation for the work producers do, because I unintentionally became one. And one was nowhere near enough; I even wrangled one of my dearest friends Olga Nunes, transformed her into my co-producer and had her in sweatshop-like conditions in my basement for 3 weeks. But then we went to Disneyland, so there’s that.
Sean: What’s been your favorite or the most memorable part of this project thus far?
Allan: Seeing the finished work start coming in, hands down.
Sean: In one word or phrase, how would you describe Temple of Art?
Allan: Temple of Art is a documentary continuing the genesis of a two year art and photography project, a unique collaboration between over fifty artists and myself that include original work incorporating multiple modalities and disciplines.
With only 48 hours left to fund Temple of Art on Kickstarter, I’m really pushing for anyone to help back this amazing and truly important project. Shine a spotlight on the world of art again and support the artists!
This is part of the ongoing series of articles about the Temple of Art exhibition and documentary. Directed by photographer Allan Amato, executive produced by Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer, and Jon Schnepp, Temple of Art: The Documentary chronicles the lives of artists and asks them why they create their art.
…Temple of Art…
I was very excited to find out that my friend, contemporary symbolist painter Gail Potocki, would be contributing a piece to the Temple of Art project, which I was already very excited about. I’ve been an admirer of Gail’s work since I first came across it about five years ago. Being intrigued with the project, as well as very curious how she became involved, and what the experience was like for her, I asked her if she would be willing to agree to an interview. Thankfully, she agreed as she generously tends to do, and it was a real pleasure having the opportunity to speak with her about the process.
“Thaw” by Gail Potocki (2008). In this wonderful painting, which recalls the 19th Century Romantic and Pre-Raphaelite tradition in its execution, Gail explores the human effect upon the environment, most notably anthropogenic climate change and the detrimental impact on the ecosystem.
Sean: Could you describe some of the themes and subjects that you are attracted to and that inform your work?
Gail: I tend toward themes that resonate with me either in a specifically personal way or with my world view. Much of my work, up to this point, has incorporated ideas about humans’ effect on nature and the environment and I try to bring these issues into the viewers’ consciousness without being heavy-handed. I like to paint people, particularly ‘extraordinary’ people, so I’ve created works based on circus sideshow performers/freaks from history. I’ve strayed in a variety of directions over the years, but always seem to come back to the environmental works because I think these issues are the most critical ones facing us today.
“The Raft of the Medusa” by Gail Potocki (2012). In the painting, the opulently-dressed woman discards a half-eaten apple into the ocean, which has been devastated by oil. On the woman’s collar is a group of rats who cling to her like a human raft, and among the rats is the experimented upon Vacanti mouse.
In the above painting, The Raft of the Medusa, the title of which is an allusion to Théodore Géricault’s painting of the same name depicting a human disaster that takes a toll on human lives, Gail shows the toll of man-made disasters, such as the Exxon Valdez and BP oil spills, as well as Fukushima, and how these events are so catastrophic to animal life and to the environment.
Gail became involved with Temple of Art at the invitation of the project’s creator, photographer Allan Amato, who took her photo and then gave it back to her to paint on in order to shine a light on the process of creating artists and to look into the creative impulse. While Gail has utilized multi-media elements in her work, particularly in the ornate custom-made frames that she utilizes as an elegant extension of her paintings, she had never worked with photographs in this way before. I asked her about the process and what kind of challenges it presented.
Sean: Your artwork has always functioned on multiple levels at once, both in terms of your symbolic subject matter and your use of materials (such as incorporating the frame into the overall painting or utilizing different materials). This is the first time that photography has been an element of your work, right? What was that like for you?
Gail: I was a bit intimidated by the project because I wanted to use the materials that I typically use and was not sure how to work with oil paints on the photo surface. Also, there was no room for mistakes! If I obliterated the photo in any way that was not intentional, there was no going back.
“Following the Straight Line of a Circle” by Gail Potocki (2013). In this piece, Gail looks at the relationship between humankind and animals, and how our collective actions can trigger extinctions. The extinct Tasmanian Tiger, as it is often called, the thylacine is shown here being domesticated by a beautiful woman. However, the human attempt to control nature results in annihilation, represented by the albino thylacine forming a canine ouroboros, a symbol of self-destruction as well as rebirth.
Sean: You’ve done so many gorgeous portraits over the years. While some of these portraits have been of your close friends and colleagues, others have been of people from the past, long-dead silent film actors or sideshow freaks. One thing that you have rarely done is self-portraits. Has this presented a challenge for you or was it strange at all to kind of turn around and to be your own subject?
Gail: I have a difficult time looking at my own image and don’t like to look in the mirror often either (I don’t think I cast a shadow anyway). I am way too critical of myself to look as closely as I need to in order to do a self image.
The portrait Allan took of Gail, which Gail will collaboratively alter and modify to create a uniquely individualistic image representative of her style.
Sean: Throughout your career, your paintings have been part of numerous exhibitions,conventions, and featured in publications, where your work was shown alongside the works of other artists. With Temple of Art, you’re in very diverse and talented company. Have you had the opportunity to meet many of the other artists involved?
Gail: I have met a few of them over the years, primarily while in L.A. or at San Diego Comic-Con. I think I am a bit of an outsider to the group and that the rest of the artists involved in the project are better acquainted.
Sean: One of the unique things about both the Temple of Art documentary and the exhibition is that it has the ability to change people’s perspectives about the lives of artists. But, perhaps even more so, there is also a great opportunity for insight and reflection for the artists themselves. Have you learned anything about yourself or your peers during this project?
Gail: It was interesting seeing how the other artists see themselves as well as how Allan sees them. I also found the correlation between the artists’ physical personality and their art to be interesting and often thought provoking.
Sean: In the modern era of television and the internet, people have become accustomed to “getting their art for free”, and while this has its positive aspects, like having more exposure and educating people about different artists and movements, it can also make it difficult for contemporary artists to make a living doing what they love. Where do you think the balance is for artists who want to gain exposure, but also want to make a living, all the while remaining true to their creative impulses?
Gail: Sometimes you have to do some things that are more commercial to pay the bills, then you go back to doing what you’re passionate about. It’s a give and take, and to avoid either aspect is irresponsible, albeit in different ways.
Sean: For any creative people out there who are struggling to venture out and explore their potential, or who are struggling to maintain motivation, what advice or encouragement would you like to give them?
Gail: How about “life is short, dammit!!!” I started out as an artist late in life so I always feel like my time is ticking away. That monkey-on-my-back makes me a bit anxious, but at the same time, I do seem to get things accomplished. Maybe a similar little dose of neurosis would help them!
Sean: This isn’t the first Kickstarter project that you’ve been a part of. What has your experience been with crowd-sourcing and how do you feel that it can help to transform the way that creative people and their fans interact, exchange ideas, and support one another?
Gail: Kickstarter and other similar programs are great for creative people to see their projects materialize, as well as for backers to feel like they are part of the process. So far, so good!
Sean: What would you like to see people take away from seeing Temple of Art?
Gail: They will get to see what a talented and flattering photographer Allan is and get a dose of a wide range of artistic styles. Everyone involved in this project is a top-notch artist and each has a unique style and vision.
Allan Amato’s portrait of artist Gail Potocki.
For those unfamiliar with Gail Potocki and her painting, here’s a little bit about her. Gail grew up in Detroit, Michigan and didn’t begin her professional art career until she was almost forty. Her artwork is done in the symbolist style and her techniques are those of, 17th 18th, and 19th Century master artists, though her subject matter is relevant in the most potent and immediate sense. The paintings and drawings she produces recall the styles and movements of the past, but the subject matter is modern and resonant for our times.
To see Gail’s finished collaborative portrait, please, support the Temple of ArtKickstarter.
Gail Potocki is exclusively represented by Century Guild.
What is art to you? Have you ever given that much thought? Everyone has a different take, has their own perspective on what constitutes art and what art’s function is within society, and the diversity, and yes, even divisiveness, to the answers you would receive from people all over this planet would be as complex, varying, and individualized as each form of art. If you were to ask me, I would say that art is an expansive form of expression, which spans multiple mediums and pervades all cultures, whether you are trying to convey a story, evoke emotions, provoke thought, reflect reality, or project your perception of reality. Art is one of the oldest means we humans have of communicating. Unlike the spoken and written word, however, art can transcend language barriers. Two people from cultures that have had no interaction can look at a painting, a photograph, a sculpture, or a performance, and the emotions they experience may be nearly identical. Conversely, two people from the same culture, the same country, the same small town even, who have similar interests and perspectives, may look at the same work of art and see in it two completely different things. Art can be aesthetic, it can be utilitarian, it can be a tool, and it can even be a weapon. Above all, art plays a part in the formation of cultures; reminding us how cultures were born, showing us how they mature and evolve, warning us how they may sink into decline, and encouraging us as to how they might be salvaged. Art is like a magical machine, partly logical scientific and partly intuitive and mystical, that generates empathy. That empathy enables disparate perspectives to come together in harmony and to open new doors into realms of new potential. Therefore, if art has such intellectually and emotionally nourishing potential to offer society as spectators, what is the impact of art on the artists themselves? Are they exorcised of personal demons, enraptured in ecstatic expressions of pleasure, trapped within an experience that they cannot articulate to others, lost in a blissfully surreal dream oblivious to the real world? Well, it seems unfair for someone who is himself not an artist to dictate what art is to others, so the best way to find out what goes on in the minds of artists and what art is to them, is to do exactly what artists do in their own pursuits: communicate.
Why do you make art?
The visual medium is unique in that it possesses the ability to immediately engage the viewer on a deep and personal level. This is true of paintings, drawings, sculptures, photographs, collage, and motion pictures. The moving image, especially when combined with sound, retains all the power of the spoken word, of music, and of visual arts within a singular medium. It may be the best modern method of expressing ourselves to the fullest degree. If that is true, as I believe it to be, then the upcoming film, Temple of Art: The Documentary, provides viewers of all kinds with a unique opportunity to peer into the minds and psyches of some of today’s most talented and remarkable artists. Perhaps more fascinating than knowing what constitutes a work of art is understanding why artists are compelled to make art. And that is exactly what Temple of Art endeavors to find out; where does that impulse come from for each artist.
Here is the film trailer for the documentary…
With over fifty artists participating in the project, Temple of Art is unprecedented in its scale as a collaborative effort, and its goal, to find out why artists create artwork, is an elusive one. But that isn’t stopping photographer, and now documentarian, Allan Amato from asking the hard questions during candid and insightful interviews with the artists, including Jason Shawn Alexander, Shaun Berke, Matthew Bone, Jon Burgerman, You Jung Byun, Rovina Cai, Vincent Castiglia, Coop, J.A.W. Cooper, Zelda Devon, Roman Dirge, Jensine Eckwell, Scott Fischer, Teresa Fischer, Ken Garduno, Jenna Gibson, Rebecca Guay, Karen Hsiao, Hueman, Kurt Huggins, Stephanie Inagaki, Dorian Iten, Kozyndan, Dongyun Lee, Matthew Levin, David Mack, Jim Mahfood, John Malloy, Nicole Maloof, Dave McKean, Soey Milk, Junko Mizuno, Grant Morrison, Satine Phoenix, Gail Potocki, Dan Quintana, Greg Ruth, Marc Scheff, Christiane Shillito, Danni Shinya, Bill Sienkiewicz, Zak Sabbath Smith, Kyle Stecker, Barron Storey, Dave Stoupakis, Brian Thies, Justin Volz, Kellisimone Waits, Kent Williams, Jasmine Worth, Christine Wu, and Ping Zhu. With a brilliantly eclectic and diverse roster of artists such as this, Amato will venture into the minds of the artists, revealing the stories and the motivations behind their work.
And here is a portion of the San Diego Comic-Con panel featuring some of the artists and people involved in the film…
This is truly an epic undertaking and one which I hope art enthusiasts the world over will appreciate and benefit from. There are only four more days to make sure that this incredibly unique project is fully funded and realized. To support the Kickstarter project, CLICK HERE.
More on Temple of Art , including interviews with the artists and filmmaker, coming soon…
The Denver Diaries: Chapter 5 – November 2013 through January 2014
The American flag and the Colorado state flag illuminated by the sun and flapping in the wind. Photo taken on November 4, 2013.
While I had a place to live, and especially a place to store my things, I took the time to better familiarize myself with Denver, learning more about the state’s history, finding out more about its laws, where landmarks and parks are located, and what services are available to the homeless. I continued to apply for work at any viable positions where I might be employed, but only managed to secure two interviews, neither of which landed me a position. Despite this disappointment, I remained hopeful, and focused my energies on volunteering at the church, writing, taking photographs, and applying for jobs. I wanted to keep myself as busy as possible. Again, one of the advantages of having a place to stay was that I didn’t have to carry the abundance of gear and belongings I had brought with me to Colorado, so I was more liberated in my mobility, and I had the chance to do some sightseeing. Colorado is a beautiful state and Denver is a uniquely situated city in the way that it is urban, suburban, and still close to nature. I loved the fact that I could jump on a bus and go drop off applications in the middle of the metro area, walk a few miles to an idyllic park with a beautiful pond and amazing scenery of the mountains, and then walk back to the comfy little house in the suburbs where I was staying. It was like the best of all worlds.
A view from City Park, the pond, the Rocky Mountains, and the sky. Photo taken on November 19, 2013.
Another benefit, and one that never lost its novelty, was that I had a gorgeous view of the sunrises and sunsets on most mornings and evenings. It was breathtaking to wake up to a golden, late-autumnal sky, and walk amongst the fallen leaves as the sun rose up and heralded a new day and the new potential that it might bring. Equally breathtaking were the evenings, watching the sun descend behind the trees as the clouds were lit up by its fiery glow. My only real regret was that I didn’t have anyone special or with whom I was close to share it with. The beauty of Denver began to fade, little by little, day by day, as I became more lonely in regardless of volunteering. “Somewhere there is someone I want to be with and who I cannot be with,” I would think. And it was true. So, in spite of all that Denver had to offer, and may still have to offer, I found myself feeling the crushing burden of solitude, and feeling it very deeply. I was craving emotional closeness, intimacy, physical contact, and most of all, I was yearning for companionship. I couldn’t enjoy the city without that certain someone there to enjoy it with.
The gorgeous and fiery sunset as seen from Oneida Street. Photo taken on December 1, 2013.
To keep myself busy, I threw my time and energies into volunteering at the church, which may not have fulfilled the overwhelming desire for companionship and family that had gradually consumed me since my own childhood, but which did give me a sense of accomplishment and of helping others. Every Sunday I would go into the church early in the morning, arriving between 4:30 and 5:00, to help set up the dozens and dozens of tables and chairs for the homeless and hungry who would come in for breakfast and to feel welcomed. I spent considerable time cleaning the sanctuary, reorganizing the store rooms, painting the walls upstairs and down, and helping to prepare for the service, making sure that all of the refreshments were ready. Then, regardless of the fact that I’m an atheist, I would stay for the service, more out of respect for the people who ran the church and for the congregation than due any desire to find religion or socialize. I knew I didn’t belong there anymore than I could belong to any church, but I also knew that they needed help and that I could offer that, so I was determined to do what I could.
Painting at Saint Paul’s UMC. Photo taken in December 3, 2013.
My health began to slowly decline and I found myself feeling very tired and lethargic. I went to the ER after a cold I had began to intensify, for fear that it might become pneumonia, and was stunned to find out that my hospital bill was altogether over $300, which, of course, I had no way of paying. In addition to my being prone to colds and brief bouts of the flu, I also began having occasional spells of dizziness, rapid heartbeat, and labored breathing. I couldn’t identify any probable cause, though, and so I ignored it for a while. Then one day after waking, I suddenly felt dizzy, the room began to spin around me in a frenzy, I felt my heart racing, and my limbs became heavy and weak. Then I fainted and fell from my chair, only to regain consciousness a few moments later. There was no real indicator of what the cause was, and as something similar had happened almost two years before and the doctors back in Maine couldn’t diagnose the cause, I chose to take it a little easier, but not let it impact my life. Then a few weeks later, a similar incident occurred, this time while I was volunteering. I felt fine that morning, but after setting up the chairs and tables, I began to feel extremely weak, was barely able to stand, and my heart seemed to be working very hard. I sunk down to the floor and soon felt my face, arms, hands, legs, and feet go numb. I had that horrible pins and needles sensation and the room began spinning. A few members of the church helped me to my feet and escorted me into a room where I could rest. I fell asleep, missing the rest of that morning’s breakfast preparation and the Sunday service that followed, and awoke about two hours later. When asked if I wanted to go to the hospital, I was conflicted, because I wanted to find out the cause, but I also had no insurance or income and refused to take on any more debt. I decided to visit the free clinic, The Stout Street Clinic, the following day. They gave me an EKG, performed blood testing, and thoroughly checked my vitals. My heart didn’t show any signs of defect and my blood work came back negative for anemia, hypoglycemia, or any other deficiencies. While a cause was not determined, it was postulated by the doctor that it might have been caused by a muscle spasm in my esophagus, which in turn could trigger my heart to act erratically. This was the first time anyone had suggested this and I considered it a possibility, because my own mother has esophageal problems which cause her to choke, so it didn’t seem unreasonable. I asked what could be done and the doctor said that while it may be inconvenient and even frightening as it happened, that it wasn’t life-threatening, and it wasn’t something that could be treated really without knowing more.
The moon looking quite giant over the Colorado Rockies two days after the full moon. Photo taken on December 19, 2013.
I continued to look for work, but in late December my Maine state identification card had expired, and I didn’t have the money to have it renewed. I was not aware at the time the huge inconvenience this would later pose or how hard it would be to obtain a valid card would be. That aside, I was becoming very discouraged, having been in Colorado for about five months or so, by that point, and applying for well over sixty jobs and not hearing back from more than three. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t being offered positions anywhere, especially at the Denver Public Library where I persistently applied since I have five-plus years of library experience, and the fact that I wasn’t even getting call-backs or interviews was all the more upsetting. Winter had arrived and I only had a place to live until early January, so I needed to find some source of income, though my efforts proved futile.
The LGBTQ pride banners at St. Paul’s. Photo taken on December 22, 2013.
By the time the holidays rolled around, I was feeling deeply frustrated, not only because of the lack of employment, but also because I felt more alone than ever. I had no partner nor family to share the holiday season with. I had no one to give gifts to or even cards, not to mention no way to purchase gifts or cards to begin with, and I felt like an intruder living in the home of a virtual stranger, being around their family, feeling out of place, and troubled by the realization that I had forgotten what having a real home felt like. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever have that again, whether or not I would ever be able to share my life with someone I loved and who loved me in return, and this sent me into an existential depression. I felt useless. Why am I here? What function or purpose do I serve? Why is it that all my efforts are met by failure? Why can’t anything improve for me? What’s the point of even trying when problems and obstacles just become exacerbated? Will I ever know happiness again?
Here I was, surrounded by people, all of whom were working together, having their own lives, doing their best to help each other and to even help strangers, but I felt so disconnected and disparate. I didn’t belong. They knew it. I knew it. It was no secret to anyone. Just the same, the tiny semblance of purpose I had retained was in helping at the church, in knowing that there were other homeless and impoverished people who shared my sense of disappointment in life and who were struggling, and I hoped that even though I was apparently unable to improve my own circumstances, maybe I was helping them in small ways that might grow in time and enable them to improve their circumstances. I didn’t want to believe that life was just a vicious cycle that repeated endlessly until we were depleted of all hope and prospects. There had to be a way out, a way to overcome the adversity that we all faced, and to achieve not only financial security, but also peace of mind. That was the most optimism I could muster.
Members of various church congregations and charities handing out gifts to the homeless on Christmas. Photo taken December 25, 2013.
So, as everyone settled down for their holiday celebrations or gathered cheerfully to help one another, I felt more isolated than ever before. There needed to be more than this. There needed to be hope for those who had lost all hope. There needed to be more than food and temporary shelter and services for the homeless. There needed to be more than houses or apartments. There needed to be homes. And homes are where you are with the people you love, the people who love you in return, and where you can find peace of mind.
Women and apples. The two of have been inexplicably linked in mythology and art for centuries. But why? Is there a genuine link between women and apples, and if so, what is the foundation for it, and how did we come to discover it? A recent study suggests that the consumption of apples may increase a woman’s sexual pleasure. Is there any validity to such a claim and is there any historical evidence to back it up? Let’s ponder these things…
Throughout the religions of the world, mythological figures and goddesses have often been associated with apples and thus apples have become a symbol of femininity.
In Greek myth, the Garden of the Hesperides was a sacred place, where the Hesperides, the nymph daughters of Hesperus, dwelt. They tended to the garden as was their sacred duty. As often as is the case, especially in Greek mythology where triads of females are prolific (the Fates, the Graces, the Moirai), the Hesperides are usually depicted as being three nymphs, beautiful and yet unattainable. Some variations on the myth depict four or seven Hesperides. The Garden of the Hesperides was an orchard belonging to the goddess Hera. There in the garden was a tree, which grew from the branches that Gaia, the Earth, gave to Hera as a wedding gift. That tree bore magical golden apples.
“The Judgement of Paris” by Anselm Feuerbach (circa 1869-1870).
There are numerous legends and myths in which the golden apples play a part, but most notably, they are seen as the cause for the Trojan War. Eris, the goddess of chaos and discord, once wandered into the garden and took a single golden apple from its branch, inscribing on it that it was intended “for the most beautiful”. She then rolled this apple into a wedding ceremony, a wedding to which she had not been invited, where it was found and three vain goddesses claimed that the apple was intended for them. Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite squabbled over who was more beautiful and therefore most deserving of the golden apple. The three goddesses sought the wisdom of Zeus, king of the gods, but he was reluctant to judge which of them was the most beautiful. And who could blame him? Hera was his sister and wife, Athena his daughter and goddess of wisdom, and Aphrodite the goddess of love herself. So, he left the unfortunate task to the mortal Prince Paris of Troy, whom had been deemed a fair judge by the gods after conceding that when Ares, god of war, took the form of a bull that he was far more glorious as a bull than any bulls that Paris had in his possession. After bathing and beautifying themselves, the three goddesses presented themselves to Paris, and each attempted to bribe him with their powers. Hera offered to make him a mighty king over Europe and Asia. Athena offered to make him wise beyond measure and courage in battle. Aphrodite offered him the most beautiful of mortal brides. Consequentially, Paris awarded the golden apple to Aphrodite, and so Paris bestowed the apple to Helen, the most beautiful of mortal women, but she was already married to the Greek warrior-king Menelaus. Paris and Helen return to Troy and are married and Menelaus besieges Troy for the next ten years.
Hercules (also spelled Herakles), who was son of Zeus and a legendary hero, had to perform Twelve Labors of atonement and one labor was to pick the golden apples from the Garden of the Hesperides. In another myth, Atalanta, a beautiful and fiercely independent huntress and athlete, sought to outrace her unwanted suitors, offering her hand in marriage to whomever could outrun her. She was outsmarted by Hippomenes who threw three golden apples, a gift from Aphrodite, into Atalanta’s path which she stopped to admire.
In Norse mythology, the gods themselves were not immortal inherently, but rather they were given their powers of immortality by eating magical golden apples. These apples were guarded over by Idunn, the goddess of eternal youth, who was on one account lured out of the gods’ home of Asgard by Loki, the trickster god of mischief. Also, another goddess, Freyja, the goddess of fertility, sexuality, gold, beauty, life, and death. In Sweden, at Christmastime, Freyja was believed to shake the apples from the trees, which would bring in a good harvest the following year. Because of this, and because of certain similarities between Freyja and Idunn, Richard Wagner combined the two goddesses in his epic opera cycle, Der Ring des Nibelungen, creating the amalgam character of Freia.
“Freia” by Arthur Rackham (1909).
In Arthurian legend, the Isle of Avalon is the final resting place of King Arthur and the mystical land where his magic sword Excalibur was forged, and it was also called Insula Pomorum, or the “island of apples“, by historian Geoffrey of Monmouth. Avalon was believed to be the home of a group of mystical priestesses, the sorceress Morgan le Fay and her sisters, chiefly among them.
Apples also play an important function as symbols in other pagan religions. With it’s five-petaled blossoms which resemble a pentagram, as does the center of an apple that has been cleaved in halves, apples are seen as both a symbol of the divine feminine and a potent magical. Because of their nutritious value and the occult value endowed to them by pagans, the apple has also been associated in folklore with witches and witchcraft. This is perhaps best exemplified in the Evil Queen who deceives the virginal and virtuous Snow White with a poisoned apple. Interestingly, apple wood has been used in the making of magic wands, which themselves have their origin in fertility rites, the wand being a phallic symbol and the magic, whether real or imagined, that emanates from them serving the symbolic function of seminal fluid. There is a reason that the phallic magic wand was often shown in the arts with a feminine pentagram atop it.
The five-pointed star found at the center of an apple when it is cut in half.
There’s a long tradition of bobbing for apples in the Autumn of each year dates back to ancient times. When the Romans, in their conquest of Britain, brought the apple tree, a symbol of the Roman goddess Pomona, to Ireland, the Celts embraced the tree and the fruit and assimilated it into their own religion. Because the seeds of an apple which has been halved forms a pentagram, which was a symbol used in magic and fertility rites, and because the apple tree was the symbol of a goddess, the Celts considered the apple to be an icon of fertility. Apples were then used in various fertility rituals and bobbing for apples was thought to be a way to predict who might be married. Young women who place the apples they successfully bobbed under their pillows while they slept were alleged to dream of their future spouse. When the Roman feast of Pomona and the Celtic festival of Samhain were combined with All Hallows Eve, the resultant holiday was Halloween, and bobbing for apples has become a popular children’s game ever since.
Obviously, one does not need to look exclusively to pagan mythological archetypes or obscure magic rituals to find a very distinct connection between women and apples, for the symbol of the apple has its place in Judeo-Christian conventions as well. One need look no further than the creation myth itself and the temptation of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. In the creation myth, God creates man and woman, Adam and Eve, gives to them the Garden of Eden as their idyllic paradise home. They are to watch over it is as their dominion and they shall watch over all the flora and fauna that exists there. However, God warns that they are strictly forbidden to eat of the fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, but temptation takes the form of a serpent who convinces Eve to taste of the forbidden fruit and to share this with her husband, Adam, and because of this they are endowed with the knowledge of sin, and thus are banished from paradise and all their progeny, meaning all of humankind, shall inherit this Original Sin. When they eat of the forbidden fruit, they also become aware of their nakedness, something that had seemed natural before but which was then perceived as shameful. Many see the consumption of the forbidden fruit as a metaphor for sexual awakening.
“Adam and Eve in Paradise” by Lucas Cranach the Elder (1533).
While the Bible does not explicitly identify what the forbidden fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was, it has commonly been depicted as an apple since around the Medieval era when artists borrowed the image of the apple in the garden from the Greek Garden of the Hesperides. Of course, it is from the Biblical creation myth that the apple becomes synonymous with images of serpents, concepts about curiosity and the acquisition of knowledge, themes of seduction and sexuality, and it has forever cemented the association of Adam and Eve themselves, and of the fall of man with the apple. It is also from this myth that we derive the term Adam’s apple, which was said to be the result of the forbidden fruit getting caught in Adam’s throat. The protrusion of the Adam’s apple is also a sign of sexual maturity in a man, so there is again a strong link between the apple and sexual maturity. The apple appears elsewhere in the Bible, prominently in The Song of Songs, where an apple tree is used as a symbol of beauty and desire in the lover’s speech, or in Deuteronomy where the phrase “the apple of my eye” came into being, using the apple as a symbol for that which is valued or prized above all else.
The Roman goddess, Venus, the Roman counterpart to the Greek Aphrodite, has long been depicted in art with apples, mainly due to the myths tying her to golden apples. In the Biblical iconography apples have been used to represent temptation, sin, and seduction. Conversely, they have also been used to represent true love and fidelity. New brides and grooms were given apples as a gesture of good will, as a blessing that their marriage would be one of fidelity and that it would be fruitful, literally and figuratively speaking.
“Venus Verticordia” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1864-1868).
In the art world, the apple has come to symbolize many things. Apples have traditionally been seen as feminine. They have been used to represent youth, the sustenance of nature, the well-being of the environment, and various other things.
It has been thoroughly documented that ancient civilizations had used various plants, herbs, fruits, and fungi as primitive medicines. Certain plants were used as contraceptives and others as fertility enhancement. Many foods and drinks (chocolate, strawberries, mangoes, oysters, red wine, for example) have been thought to be aphrodisiacs. Anyone with food allergies is at least somewhat aware of how the chemical components of what they eat effect their own biochemistry and can cause reactions. Certain foods are known to have certain properties that cause physical changes in our bodies. For men, citrus fruits and foods containing high levels of Vitamin C have been shown to increase sperm health, and for women, proteins derived from vegetable sources have been shown to improve fertility. In the 17th Century, Nicholas Culpepper claimed that asparagus was an aphrodisiac for men, and as it turns out, he was right. Asparagus contains essential fiber, potassium, vitamins A and C, thiamin, and folic acid. Folic acid boosts histamine which is needed in order for both men and women to achieve orgasm. Another food which has been sited as an aphrodisiac is avocado. Avocados are also high in folic acid and potassium, and the way they hang from trees in pairs gives them a rather sexual appearance, so much so that they were called “testicle trees” by the ancient Aztecs.
A recent study at Santa Chiara Regional Hospital in Trento, Italy, and which was published in Archives of Gynecology and Obstetrics has found an apparent link between apple consumption and a woman’s sexual responsiveness and pleasure. There were 731 female participants in the study, ranging from age eighteen to age forty-three, and with no history of sexual dysfunction. None of the women included in the study were taking any prescription drugs. The women were divided into two groups: one in which the participants consumed one to two apples daily and the other in which the participants did not consume any apples on a daily basis. The results are fascinating to say the least. The women who ate one to two apples every day reported increased arousal, vaginal lubrication, the frequency and intensity of orgasms, and overall sexual functioning. The reason behind this, according to the researchers, is that apples contain phloridzin, which can decrease blood glucose levels and increase metabolism, but it’s also a phytoestrogen and phytoestrogens can improve blood flow the vagina. Phloridzin is similar to female sex hormone estradiol. The pectin in apples also help to lower cholesterol, which is important to heart function, and again improves blood flow. Apples also contain polyphenols and antioxidants and have been shown to lower blood-fat levels in postmenopausal women.
Now, there is a difference between causation and correlation, and it’s possible that with such a small number of participants in the study, that these findings may not be completely accurate or that there are other factors not being accounted for. But it is possible that this is very real scientific merit to this study and that apples can improve sexual responsiveness and function in women. And if so, does this account for the long association between apples and women, and in particular, between apples and female sexuality and fertility?
So, do apples increase sexual function in women? There’s one simple way to find out…
I wish that I could whisper In her ear something sweet But I feel depleted and incomplete Sometimes I dream of death Being buried six feet deep And it gives me my only sense of relief
Is it wrong, am I right To just keep wanting more Perhaps so, perhaps not Am I the only one keeping score What you’ve got, I have not I’m leaving with less than I had before
And it feels like I’m caught In the middle of an epic storm And who is denied everything ever Wanted since they day he was born A true friend, a lover, a partner Clearly I am abandoned and forlorn
In the dark, in the night Sometimes I can forget myself Absorbed into the silence Instead of consumed by this living hell Enraged by inner violence And trapped within this fleshy prison cell
Tell me now, where is the hope When I’m crushed beneath the weight Troubled by my lack of purpose Left to pursue some senseless fate In my solitude, without hope or faith No state of grace, for death I longingly await
If you want it then you’ve got it The truth cannot be denied If the shoe fits, if you feel like shit Then the answer must be right Every condescension, every pretension That you stand over us all It meant nothing whatsoever Because you’ve just got further to fall
I’m not taking any more of what you’re dealing out The sarcasm and the judgment dripping from your mouth I will throw a punch, break your jaw, watch it hit the floor Because I’ve had it up to here and I’m not listening anymore
Too many chances you’ve been given So many times you’ve let me down Too many opportunities for redemption So many tears in which I’ll drown
Was it there or wasn’t it there Was it a figment of my mind Tried to grasp at a dream But it slipped from my hands And now I’m left to ponder The spell that I am under The longing and the yearning For a life that never will be mine
If you want it then you’ve got it The truth cannot be denied If the shoe fits, if you feel like shit Then the answer must be right Every diversion, every subversion Of your hopes and dreams They mean nothing whatsoever Because nothing is what it seems
I am wading through dark waters looking for my imaginary child I’m calling out to my daughter, but all I hear are beasts in the wild Nobody answers, nobody cares, nobody’s really there The fantasy then fades away and leaves me who knows where
Too many daydreams and too many nightmares So many tears that I have cried Too many of my hopes withered on the vine So many aspirations have died
And it was all there, all there in a dream The fog lifted and I was alone I tried to hold on to The visions as they slipped away Now I’m forced to face The dark and empty place That I’m living and losing in For a family that never will be mine
I was standing in the doorway to the courtyard With one hand rested on my hip Trying to figure out who really cares about love And who doesn’t give a shit Is anybody listening to the words that I am screaming out The desperation and the anguish that I am singing about
All the troubles and the pains that I’ve had to endure Never feeling joyousness Always working myself sick, still impoverished as before Never getting anywhere This road is running backwards and I am running forwards Never progressing, despite my momentum And second-guessing my purpose here on this sad little planet Fast-forward through the tedium and monotony God damn it, I really cannot stand it
All these yesterdays adding up Tomorrows growing fewer I feel my hour is coming soon But it doesn’t grow any clearer What it is I am doing here As the end comes ever nearer
I was standing in the hallway of a dollhouse With my head pressed against the wall Trying to comprehend the size of the universe And feeling very, very small Is anyone looking to the stars and asking the absurd question As to whether we are divine-made or just simply obsolescent
All the smiles you faked and all the phony laughs Never helped you to fit in And now you’re sifting through the debris of the past Never knowing sincerity Perhaps you were always blind but somewhere is authenticity Never clarified what you wanted, but prone to complaint And falsifying evidence of a life that you created for yourself Rewinding to another time before you were born Standing in the fiery valleys of hell
All these yesterdays adding up Tomorrows growing fewer I feel my hour is coming soon But it doesn’t grow any clearer What it is I am doing here As the end comes ever nearer
Today is the birthday of a friend and a wonderful artist… Gail Potocki. Happy birthday, Gail!
Gail Potocki is a contemporary symbolist painter, who specializes in paintings which are created in the classical tradition on a technical level, but she has a unique approach artistically in that she adopts timeless symbols and icons and imbues them with a distinctly modern meaning. Drawing inspiration from art movements spanning three centuries, taking her cues from Symbolists, Surrealists, the Pre-Raphaelites, and Romanticists, Gail’s work transcends those very movements and genres. Looking back upon the past with a haunting poetic eloquence and towards the future with a wariness that is both strikingly beautiful and starkly cautionary, her work emphasizes strong environmental themes and celebrates the outsider culture of freak shows and performance art, alternative music, and classic literature and films. Gail’s work is wholly unique unto itself and offers a powerful and emotional glimpse into the mind of one of today’s most original talents.
All through the hills I heard the echoes of laughter Perhaps not, perhaps it was the aftershock of thunder Then the rain came down and was dancing in darkness Each raindrop’s sound was like the footsteps or movement The rhythm changed pace and the dance then sped up The rain turned to ice and the wind soon picked up The sky became green and the sky became grey The wind roared through the trees and silenced the hail And who but I could see through the thick haze When all else was blinded, blocked from the sun’s rays The tornado, it came, and swept through the streets The wind howled and moaned and called out to me
Destruction is creation From one the other is born From the rubble a new nation Up from the ashes the phoenix rises
We stand in the ruins of ancient civilizations We build our homes upon fallen monuments And what came before is soon after forgotten It’s true that little do we learn from history’s lessons Our fantasies fail us and leave us all wanting Dreaming of worlds which are better left rotting In the decay, the silence, and vines creeping Over old pagan temples erected for weeping Beneath our feet are bones of our fathers The remains of mothers, families, and lovers And who would have thought the air to be toxic Causing the death of all those forced to breathe it
Destruction is creation From one the other is born From the rubble a new nation Up from the ashes the phoenix rises
The olden tragedy is the modern genesis The future sets up its home on the graves of the past And so are we haunted by a presence unknown Our welcome sign hung in place of the tombstone I can smell something acrid, heavy on the air What could it be, from where is that scent coming Is it the dust and the smoke from lifetimes ago Carried through the air, through both rain and snow And under the sunlight, we’re blinded again Soon you will hear the whispering wind To remind us to pick up our shovels again To dig our foundations where the dead had once been
Destruction is creation From one the other is born From the rubble a new nation Up from the ashes the phoenix rises
A crimson stream forms in the valley below A blood-red river from their bodies flow The devastation we so recklessly wrought The consequences so soon after forgot And in my memories, a spectre awaits Will I remember our ancestors’ fates Can we learn to rebuild atop of death To create sustaining life in place of all our wrath Can we unlearn the madness of war and crime Until then in the chaos shall we bide our time Is it too much to ask for an inkling of insight Before we disappear into the eternity of night
Destruction is creation From one the other is born From the rubble a new nation Up from the ashes the phoenix rises
All through the hills I heard the echoes of laughter Perhaps not, perhaps it was the aftershock of thunder Then the rain came down and was dancing in darkness Each raindrop’s sound was like the footsteps of movement The rhythm changed pace and the dance then sped up The rain turned to ice and the wind soon picked up The sky became green and the sky became grey The wind roared through the trees and silenced the hail And who but I could see through the thick haze When all else was blinded, blocked from the sun’s rays The tornado, it came, and swept through the streets The wind howled and moaned and called out to me
Destruction is creation From one the other is born From the rubble a new nation Up from the ashes the phoenix rises The phoenix rises, the phoenix rises up The phoenix rises, the phoenix rises up
The Denver Diaries: Chapter 4 – October through November 2013
The busy streets of Denver after midnight. Photo taken on October 16, 2013.
There are many assumptions about what homeless people are like or how they wound up in their situation. Most think that the homeless are lazy, unwilling to work, disabled, or addicts of one kind or another. This is simply not the case. While many people who live on the streets do have some kind of mental disorder, addiction, or disability, and there certainly are those that live on the streets by choice as well, the majority have found themselves there because they lost their income unexpectedly. I’ve heard so many different stories about people whose loved ones died and tried to take time off to mourn and were then fired, people whose landlords unceremoniously kicked them out without notice and could not afford another apartment at that time, people struggling with health problems who could work a particular job and thus didn’t qualify for disability and who then lost that particular job. There are so many sad and complicated stories. My own was simple. I had moved halfway across the country with insubstantial funds and found myself without work. I couldn’t blame anyone else or say that this was the fault of another. The truth is simple, and often cutting like a crude blade, and the consequences of my choices fell squarely upon my shoulders. I knew that I was taking a risk moving here, but it was a necessary and calculated risk, and in my case, it just hadn’t paid off… yet.
Photo taken October 14, 2013.
I did, however, have some advantages. I don’t have a debilitating health condition, I’m not an addict or drug user, and I don’t have a history of any prior crimes. I had been employed the past five years, I did have a computer, a camera, and a phone with me. I also came prepared, albeit not quite for this situation, as I had originally intended to backpack my way across the American Southwest, so I had plenty of clothes and gear to make living on the streets (somewhat) more easy. I had applied for food stamps, which I would receive before the month was out, and I was learning a lot about both the city and the homeless community in the city. It didn’t take long before I found potential places to volunteer, where I could give back and help to make a difference for others in a similar circumstance, and prospectively have some positive job references within the state. I soon had a list of different places to go, places that offered food to the hungry and homeless, places where people could bathe and do laundry for free, places where one could receive medical attention and obtain prescriptions, places where one could receive mail and use toll-free telephones, and places where various services are offered to help qualified individuals find work or temporary shelter. I wanted help. I needed to. So, I spoke with a few of these organizations, some run by the government, some by churches, and some by the community, and realized I needed to select the place that was in the most need of a helping hand. That’s how I came to the conclusion that Saint Paul’s was where I needed to direct my attentions.
The exterior of Saint Paul United Methodist and Inter-Spiritual Community. Photo taken October 14, 2013.
First, let me tell you a little about St. Paul, if for no other reason than it might help to explain why I chose to volunteer there. St. Paul United Methodist is on 16th and Ogden. The historical roots of St. Paul can be traced back to 1860 when Methodist Reverend William M. Bradford built what is to believed to be the first church in Denver. While there were certainly other congregations at the time, they did not have their own church building, and were relegated to meeting in town halls, theatres, schoolhouses, or then unused buildings. Over the next few decades, St. Paul relocated from 14th and Arapahoe to 1846 Arapahoe, then to 20th and Curtis St. , followed by 21st and Welton, and then finally to the current building on 16th and Ogden, which underwent its initial construction in 1910. During this period spanning half a century, the constantly changing community saw the comings and goings of different reverends, the onslaught of the Civil War and the destruction caused by both Northern and Southern forces, and the building of the railroads. The church took an active stance in providing a street mission and a school to Chinese railroad workers and later, during the first World War, sponsored the Save the Children Foundation, as well as contributing bandages to the Red Cross. During the 1960s, the church community, originated and partook in a number of outreach programs. In 1984, St. Paul became the third “reconciling congregation” in the whole country, being part of Affirmation: United Methodist and then the Reconciling Ministries Network, which welcomes gay, lesbian, and bisexual parishioners. In 1985, they were given an award in from the gay community in recognition of their openness and welcoming attitude reaching back to the late ’60s, something which is still emphasized today and has expanded to the broader LGBTQ community. The church has also helped the immediate Denver community by launching various socially conscious programs, such as their Sunday Meal Program which began in 1987, and offers breakfasts each Sunday to the homeless and hungry, feeding between 120 and 200 people each week. During the ’90s, the church welcomed Buddhists into their building, and developed an inter-faith community. They helped people with HIV and AIDS, providing and delivering furniture and other essential household items to those afflicted with the diseases who had lost their homes or no longer had the support of their families, in an effort to make the world a more comfortable and loving place. For two years, the church also gave shelter to homeless and displaced youth, as part of a program which was later assimilated into Urban Peak. They also have offered their downstairs kitchen to Catholic Workers who use the facilities to make food which is then taken to the St. Francis Center and dispersed amongst the homeless, poor, and hungry.
The beautiful stained glass windows of St. Paul’s refracting the light of the setting sun. Photo taken October 27, 2013.
Normally, as an atheist and vocal critic of organized religion, I would not have aligned myself with a church organization, especially as most use their charitable efforts and philanthropy as a front to proselytize, but St. Paul has been different. The attitude there is one of genuine altruism and societal concern, not of judgment or infallible self-righteousness, so I was surprised to find a self-proclaimed progressive church that lived up to its proclamations. The church, with its small congregation and its ongoing social activism within the community, needed volunteers and funding to keep its doors open. While funding is beyond my ability at this point, volunteerism is something I’m more than capable of and willing to do, so I started volunteering at the end of October.
Over the next few weeks, I found myself feeling newly reinvigorated by a sense of purpose again, and was glad to be doing something productive, even if I didn’t generate any income from it. It was good to have something to do to keep me busy and to be again feeling a part of something greater than myself. I was still trying to figure out how to find work and housing, and I was applying for every job I could find that I might qualify for, but things were certainly looking up. After two weeks of volunteering at the church, two of the members and fellow volunteers there offered to open their home to me and let me stay there for a couple months while I try to land a job. Two days after moving in, they elected to go on a trip to Colorado Springs, and asked me if I’d join along. I was grateful to see more of the state and to be even closer to the mountains.
View of the Rocky Mountains. Photo taken at Colorado Springs on November 8, 2013.
Photo taken on November 8, 2013.
I was uncertain of what the future might hold, but I knew I would be staying in Colorado, because I’d finally found a place that one day might be home.
The Denver Diaries: Chapter 3 – September through October 2013
Despite my financial situation, I was loving Denver, and it had begun to feel like it might one day be a real home. This changed, however, as the last of my money dissipated paying for living expenses and shelter at the hostel. But there was hope, as I heard back from one of the jobs which I had applied for, working at a non-profit organization where I would be helping to prevent sexual assault and offer support to people who had survived it. As it was, this was an issue close to my heart, and I felt that with my own experiences and understanding of human nature that maybe I could make a real difference in the local community. To my great surprise, not only did I get an interview for the job, but I was also offered a position almost immediately. After weeks of not hearing anything back from the places I had applied to, I finally seemed to have caught a lucky break… or so I thought. As it turned out, I was not going to be making the kind of direct changes in the community I had hoped I would be given the opportunity to, but rather I would be “canvassing” in the metro Denver area, mostly in the suburbs, to raise funds and awareness for various programs to aid those whose lives had been impacted by sexual assault. The cause was close to my heart, but the method (going door to door, asking for financial support for the organization and handing out flyers) was not something to which I was suited for. Having most of my work experience in the library back in Maine, I was accustomed to being behind a counter and people coming to me with their needs and then assisting them, but here I was a fish out of water, in a new city where I couldn’t get my bearings, and trying to approach total strangers and essentially ask for their financial assistance on a sensitive subject that was a deterrent for many. After the first few days of training made it clear that this job required a more buoyant and vivacious personality than myself, I knew that I didn’t handle the rejection well, I was too soft-spoken, and not assertive or persistent enough. My co-workers were all a delight, very amiable and charming, but I didn’t feel that I quite fit in with these young people who were so full of optimism. During work, as I went from one door to another, one street to another, I was sworn at (an old man told me to “…get the fuck off my lawn!”), threatened (an old woman threatened to sic her dog on me and warned that “…he has very sharp teeth”), and treated with ridicule (a man told me, “What do I care about rape? The government has us all bent over and fucking us up the ass. This isn’t my problem.”). After six days of training, by which time I was supposed to raise my nightly quota at least twice consecutively, and having not raised it at all, I was let go from the job.
I had spent all of my money staying at the hostel so that I could store my belongings and shower and be presentable at work. And this meant that I had not had money for food, so I was starving, and this also affected me emotionally. I became increasingly depressed, discouraged with myself, and irritable. Before being hired, I had been eating sporadically, trying to save money so I wouldn’t be out on the street, but then when I was hired, I knew that in order to keep my job, especially since it was dealing with the public and being a representative of an organization, I needed to be presentable. I couldn’t be looking like someone who slept in an alleyway. I went five days straight without eating while I was working, which I am certain was detrimental to my efforts on the job, but I didn’t really have anyone I could turn to for help. Fortunately, my cousin Char wired me some money so I wouldn’t starve, and I bought enough groceries to sustain me through the next couple weeks. When I lost the job, I knew I was in serious trouble, because since I was on commission, the amount I made per hour was about $5, not including the amount taken out for tax deductions. Having worked about a 40 hour week, my take home pay was less than $200, and I had to choose between staying at the hostel or saving that money for food. I put aside some of the money, so I would be able to stay at the hostel during inclement weather, and then put the rest of it aside to pay for groceries. I was now one of the homeless of Denver, Colorado. And what was worse was that I had become anorexic.
The thinnest I’ve been in my adult life at 139 lbs. Photo taken October 6, 2013.
It was October, the temperatures had begun to drop dramatically, there was occasional snow showers, and I found myself sleeping in alleyways under the overhangs of fire escapes, or in churchyards concealed by shrubs, or under bridges. Anywhere that I could find at least partial shelter from the elements and where I wouldn’t be harassed by other homeless people looking for drugs or alcohol, things they could steal, or where the police would see me. I learned a lot from the six weeks I ended up living on the streets. I learned a lot about Denver, about its homeless population, about how the police treat the homeless, and about the Urban Camping Ban, a local ordinance which makes it a crime for the homeless to be caught sleeping in public. I found out where I could go to take a shower, where I could do laundry for free, where I could receive my mail, and where I could go to get a free breakfast on Sunday mornings. I also came to realize how impractical it was to have a backpack, a bag of laundry, and a shoulder bag, altogether weighing in at about a hundred pounds (I myself only weighed about forty pounds more than that), to carry with me at all times when I myself was getting thinner and thinner and losing muscle mass due to catabolysis.
Me standing at the Denver Public Library with my hiking backpack, shoulder bag, and laundry bag, all of which weighed over 100 lbs. Photo taken November 2, 2013.
There are so many things that we take for granted, so many things that we don’t realize are luxuries that can be swiftly taken away by a change in luck or finances. One might think that being indigent means you’re a bum, that you’re lazy and don’t give any effort, that you just leech off the system. This is not the case at all. Being homeless is anything but easy. Every aspect of living without shelter and without utilities is a challenge. Being homeless is a test of the will.
The first challenge you face is where to find food and how to prepare food when you don’t have your own kitchen. I had food money from my cousin, so I knew I wasn’t in as bad shape there as I could be, but it would only last for a short while. I needed to sign up for food stamps, which I was hesitant to do, as I’m reluctant to accept aid from the government which is funded by taxation when I don’t have the means to pay taxes myself. I don’t like to rely on supplements when I feel I’m not contributing myself. But I relented out of necessity, knowing that one day, I would be able to contribute and pay society back in some way. So, I signed up for food stamps, and started receiving benefits. Now, this is not a complaint, but rather an observation. One cannot survive off the amount you receive in food stamps alone when you are homeless. The reason being that you have to buy food that you can carry around with you at all times and you’re limited as to what foods you can get because most likely you don’t have a way to cook. So, you end up buying pre-made foods, convenient foods, and you buy them at whatever stores are closest, not where food is the most inexpensive. Because of this, you end up spending more, and running out of food stamps benefits long before you receive your next monthly amount. This is where and when most people turn to soup kitchens, food pantries, and churches that offer hot meals once a week. This, however, wasn’t really an option for me since I’m both a vegetarian and a person with numerous food allergies. There were not many places for me to eat.
The second challenge is where do you rest and sleep. Well, in some towns and cities, there are plenty of places you can go to find a secluded area to sleep and recuperate from carrying all your possessions around with you in whatever weather there happens to be. In Denver, there are not many options available to men, though, fortunately there are many places you can stay if you are a woman or have children. I only spent three nights at the shelter. There are a number of reasons why. The first reason is the weather. When it’s between 15 and 30 degrees outside, damp, and snowy, you have to stay warm. One of the best ways to stay warm is to keep moving, but you cannot maintain constant motion and just walk for days on end, especially not if you are running low on food and energy and you have a lot to carry with you. The second reason is fatigue. Eventually you find yourself exhausted and you cannot stop wherever your energy level has depleted and just sleep there. Unless you want to be arrested. You have to go somewhere designated for the homeless or to somewhere where your presence will go undetected. The third reason is that there are sometimes dangers on the street that you need to avoid. Many homeless people live a rough existence. Many have been attacked, robbed, raped, or witnessed and experienced things that harden them both inside and out. The key to surviving is knowing your limitations and adapting to your environment.
A homeless man asleep on a bench in the park. Police came and roused him and made him leave the park shortly after I took the photo. Photo taken October 27, 2013.
One of the many sign-holding homeless people who beg for money, food, drugs, or in this case, alcohol. These kinds of signs often perpetuate the misconception that all homeless people are lazy alcoholics and drug addicts. Photo taken October 13, 2013.
The third challenge is hygiene. When you are on the street, this one thing is of so much importance, not only in trying to keep yourself clean and healthy, to avoid infections, cavities, and other health problems, but also in trying to make money. Whether you are intending to look for employment or whether you just plan to beg for money and food on the corners, being at least somewhat presentable is important. Generally speaking, employers don’t want to hire someone who is hasn’t bathed, has bad breath, isn’t groomed, is wearing dirty clothes, or who is visibly unhealthy. The same goes for begging. People don’t want to hand over their money to a beggar as it is, but especially not one that looks like he is circling the drain. What’s more, your appearance and how you carry yourself also carries a significance in how people perceive you, and whether they find you trustworthy, untrustworthy, or even a threat. So, it is absolutely essential that you can find places where you can bathe or shower, go to the bathroom, brush your teeth, launder clothes, and change. Most shelters offer some of these amenities, but not all, and here in the city, many restaurants only offer their restrooms to paying customers. You have to know where you can go. I cannot emphasize this enough. It’s horrible being homeless. It’s detrimental to your self-esteem. And it’s even worse when you find yourself in the awkward and humiliating position of having to relieve your bodily functions outside, knowing that a traffic camera or security camera may be catching you on video or that someone somewhere may be watching.
Semi-humorous graffiti outside of a church-run shelter. Where one relieves oneself is a very serious challenge when you are homeless. Photo taken September 2, 2013.
These are but three essential challenges that you are forced to confront when you’re living life as an indigent. There are many others. So many, many things that we take for granted because in our privileged lives we grow accustomed to them. For me, aside from those three things, perhaps the most difficult thing to adjust to was just not having privacy or any sense of comfort and security. Even when you can find a places to sit down, lay down, rest, or sleep, you cannot ever let your guard down. You have to be alert at all times or your belongings will be stolen, you will be assaulted, or you will be arrested. I couldn’t believe how hard this was to adapt to. I sometimes found myself literally sleeping with one eye open. My head would shoot up and I’d become fully alert the second I heard footsteps within a fifty foot radius. Every helicopter, plane, or roll of thunder interrupted my sleep. Every car horn or car alarm, emergency siren, or distant shouting became a cause to not just wake up, but to gather my senses and make sure that I could move myself and all my belongings should the situation necessitate it. It was difficult to get more than two consecutive hours of sleep without interruption. I also found that another thing that one doesn’t really think about when you think of homelessness, but which was very hard for me to deal with, is your libido. Being poor, being unhealthy, and being on the street doesn’t just cause your sex drive to disappear. But what do you do when you are alone, on the street, and have no privacy? You certainly can’t have sex or masturbate in public and most shelters have very specific rules about those kinds of things and will ban you if you violate those rules. For me, anyway, I never really figured out how people handle that aspect of life on the streets, and so that constant, gnawing urge for sexual gratification went unheeded, which only made me more restless and it was harder to sleep. As it turns out, a certain amount of pleasure is not only enjoyable, but it is actually required for your own well-being and mind-body balance.
The Central Branch of the Denver Public Library. Photo taken on November 2, 2013.
All of these things take their toll. It’s no wonder that so many indigents have emotional or mental problems. Even if they found themselves on the streets without any pre-existing disorders, it’s very easy to understand how they would develop them over time. The constant hunger, fatigue, sexual repression, loneliness, anxiety, paranoia, insomnia, depression, and the gradual decline in your own sense of self-worth. These things are all so dehumanizing. And that’s just what is going on in your own head and doesn’t even take into account the kind of treatment you receive from others based on how they perceive you. There are so many threats that you have to be wary of, from the police arresting you to being assaulted, from theft to being deceived or framed for a crime, from being drugged to being raped. Everyone one the streets is at risk. No one is really safe. Not safe from others and not safe from themselves. You have to seek sanctuary, either in a physical place like a public library, a church, or a park, or emotionally/spiritually in yourself. You are a refugee, and your survival depends on having refuge, or a fugue, to which you can temporarily escape the physical and mental stress and hardship that is your daily existence. I’ve never used drugs, but I can understand why many people resort to drug use to insulate themselves and escape their present realities. For many, what other options do they have? I sought out my sanctuary, my refuge, my escape, in the form of photography and reading. Taking photographs helped to me to capture in images what I was seeing, what I was experiencing, both the degrading ugliness and those all too few moments of astonishing beauty. Reading enriched my mind and transported me to other places. It gave me a chance to delve into research for my writing and to find a retreat from my own life for a few hours here and there. The library became a haven for both of these reasons, as I could take out books, but also use the public computers to access the internet, to share photos with friends, to research and write my essays, and to keep in contact with family.
The most gorgeous sunrise I have ever had the good fortune to witness. Colorado is known for having beautiful sunrises and sunsets, and had I not moved here, had I not lost my job, had I not become homeless, I would have missed this one. And had I not had my camera returned to me when it was lost, I would not be able to share it with you. This, for me, helps put things in perspective. Photo taken on October 16, 2013.
An indigent traveler stopping by outside the library to access the wi-fi. Photo taken September 19, 2013.
Two homeless men asleep in the sunlight. Photo taken on October 14, 2013.
It’s not an uncommon sight in Denver to see a homeless person asleep on a park bench or passed out on the lawn in front of some public building or begging for money on the street corner. Most people would see them and walk away or lower their heads to avoid acknowledging them at all. And why? Because there are too many homeless people in the city for any one individual to help and it creates a feeling of helplessness and guilt. Nobody wants to feel that they aren’t contributing to society, regardless of whether they are affluent or impoverished, and so the natural defense mechanism of the ego is denial. If you don’t acknowledge the existence of the poor, the hungry, and the homeless, then they cease to exist in your day-to-day life. When you push someone outside of the periphery of your vision, then you essentially put them out of sight and out of mind, enabling you to go about your business unaffected. No guilt. The problem for me is that I cannot do this. Here I was on the streets, homeless, starving, and becoming unhealthy, and yet I would look around me at the shelters and at the people I was encountering on the streets, and I saw that many were in much more dire situations than myself. Yes, my situation sucked, but there are people on the streets with diseases and serious mental health issues and drug addictions. I lost track of how many people I encountered with severe autism, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, or some other manner of debilitating mental health problems that would prevent them from finding stability and turning their lives around. Someone needed to help these people, to give them support, and to offer them a sign of hope that they could aspire to be more than their current circumstances allowed for. I knew that my own circumstances were temporary. That things would eventually improve because I wouldn’t give up because I had strong survival instincts. But surviving isn’t enough. I wanted to help others who were struggling, too, and I was fortunate because I found a way to do this.
The welcoming purple doors to Saint Paul United Methodist & Inter-Spiritual Community on 1615 Ogden St., Denver. Photo taken October 14, 2013.
It was late October when I came across Saint Paul’s United Methodist and Inter-Spiritual Community and discovered that they offered breakfasts to the homeless every Sunday, despite having limited funds, a small congregation of attendees, and only about half a dozen regular volunteers to keep their breakfast program going. This was where I needed to be. This was where I could start to make a difference.
This is an open letter to Pat Robertson about the enclosed video and the inaccurate statements he made therein, which I have been kind enough to correct.
First of all, Jesus would not have baked a wedding cake for anyone because it was not customary to do so during the time of Jesus. The tradition of baking bread, not cake, was customary in ancient Graeco-Roman times for the bride and the bride only (men did not partake of this custom and thus two men being married would not receive the traditional wedding bread). The bread was symbolically broken over the bride’s head. While in Greece homosexuality was common, and men often lived together without any social stigma being attached, gay marriages did no occur. Also, Jesus was Hebrew, and he would not have adopted a pagan wedding custom. The wedding cake, as we think of it today, evolved out of a medieval tradition of stacking layer upon layer of cake and having the bride and groom kiss over it. The elaborate and ornate wedding cakes of today were essentially established as a tradition in the 19th Century (Jesus was not present then). What’s more, Jesus was a carpenter, and not a baker.
Secondly, homosexuality was not considered a pathology in Jesus’ time as the word pathology is from the 17th Century (again, Jesus was not around), and the etymological origin of pathology is the Latin pathologia meaning “science of diseases” and the Greek “study of passions”. If you consult the vast majority of physicians, neurologists, and psychiatrists, they will adamantly refute this misguided notion that homosexuality is a mental disorder or a disease. They will however assert that it is an innate condition of one’s genetic makeup and part of who they were since birth, which according to your religion is the result of God’s design.
Thirdly, in what way can one legitimately state that homosexuals are “oppressors of those who hold deeply held religious points of view”? I can’t recall any situations in which a gay, bisexual, or transgender individual oppressed religion. Perhaps this is due to the fact that self-identifying homosexuals are known to be between 10% and 12% of the population (this is an approximate number, though many suggest that the number of exclusive homosexuals is much lower), as to those individuals self-proclaimed to be religious, who make up approximately 67% of the world’s population. While a minority has on occasion held the power to be oppressive collectively through some form of centralized power, homosexuals do not have a nation or government from which they can establish the kind of authoritarian capabilities to oppress the world’s religious population. Homosexuals have not lobbied politicians or voted to deny heterosexuals the right to marriage. They have not attempted to overthrow the Christian religion, but many have asked the Christian religion to embrace them lovingly as Jesus instructed all humankind to do with one another, and to not judge.
Homosexuals cannot really be tied into a discussion on abortion as exclusively homosexual people have no reason to terminate a pregnancy except in cases of rape, and that would be a heterosexual rape as homosexual rapes don’t result in conception. If marriage were solely about reproduction, then any heterosexual couples who cannot conceive of children would also, by your own logic, be unsuitable for marriage and yet this is not so. If you think that sexuality is a meaningless exercise if it does not result in progeny, then you fail to acknowledge that even in the Bible, human sexuality is celebrated as a physical expression of love in “The Song of Solomon (a.k.a. The Song of Songs)”.
The particular union of marriage that is mentioned in the Bible was not about theology or spirituality, but a socioeconomic arrangement in which women were seen as subservient vessels by which men continued their bloodline, and were traded for money and livestock. These were not unions of love by which two people are united as equals under the eyes of God; they were economic exchanges.
Furthermore, if the Devil were trying to destroy the world’s progeny, he is not doing a very good job, since the world’s population has gone from 1 billion in the 1800s to an estimated 7 billion today. There is no current threat of human extinction due to homosexuality or abortion depleting the population. This is pure folly. Our planet is overpopulated by humans. Homosexuals are not taking lives. They are adopting the children of the world who would have no homes and bringing new children into the world through surrogates (and the practice of surrogate parents was considered a great, selfless, honourable one in the Bible).
The fact of the matter is that homosexuality has been with humankind from the start as far as anthropologists can tell, and what’s more, this idea that it can be defined as a mortal sin is absurd, since sins can only be committed by human beings and animals also practice homosexual behaviours, and as the Judeo-Christian religions deny that animals have immortal souls to begin with, then homosexuality cannot by default be defined as sin.
As for your perceived “attack”, I have seen throughout history the wholesale slaughter of homosexuals by the Nazis and by violent regimes encouraged by religious fanatics, I have seen homosexuals lynched by supremacy groups and bigots, I have seen politicians forcibly remove homosexuals from government positions, I have seen police brutality towards homosexuals who peacefully gathered in bars merely to socialize (as is their legal right), I have seen homosexuals in civil service as teachers and soldiers harassed and their vocations denied them, I have seen young LGBT youth bullied and beaten until they are so hurt that they end their lives to escape the pain that has been inflicted upon them, and I have seen nor heard one mention from you about how this ongoing persecution and destruction of lives denies the world its progeny. You have even advocated violence against and even the murder of homosexuals. The irony of which is that murder and killing are by your own words, “the work of Satan“. So, tell me, now, who it is that advocated death and is a threat to the longevity of the human race.
You, sir, are a hypocritical, inconsiderate, bigoted piece of excrement.
Having become so fond of Denver so quickly, I decided that I would stay and try to find work as soon as possible since a week’s stay at the hostel cost me about $115 and I had only brought $900 with me to Colorado, and I began job-searching ferociously. Within a matter of weeks, I had applied at over thirty-five different places of employment, ranging from novelty and souvenir shops to branches of the library, from non-profit organizations to book stores and movie theatres. I began to worry about what would happen when mid-September rolled around and the white of snow could be seen on the mountaintops in the distance. My initial plan to cross the Rockies and head South into Arizona was definitely not going to happen now… job or no job.
When I wasn’t scouring the city looking for work, I was often out sightseeing or visiting the Denver Public Library or the Denver Art Museum. I was immediately impressed by the size and quality of both, which had far exceeded my expectations, and proved to be a welcome diversion from my financial and living conditions. The museum and the library both would become my havens; places where I could not only go to be out and about among people, but also somewhere I could go when needing quiet, contemplative time. The library was, and still is, a wonderful resource that has provided me with hours of entertainment in addition to being the main source of all my research for the essays I’ve been working on since my arrival here in Denver. I hope that in time I may find myself employed at one of the local branches of the DPL. It’d be a dream job.
Just one view of the fascinating architecture of the Denver Art Museum which is divided into two buildings connected by a walkway bridge. Photo taken August 24, 2013.
The monstrous Central Branch of the Denver Public Library which has become a sanctuary to me where I can acquire almost any book or film I need for research or for enjoyment. Photo taken September 7, 2013.
Things at the hostel had become, well, interesting, to put it mildly, as I met the various people passing through and staying there. Sleep became a precious commodity, which I soon realized I had long taken for granted, that was denied me amidst a chorus of snoring men in the room. Most of the guests at the hostel were amicable enough, and there were even a few whom I came to enjoy, among them another Sean (one of many I’ve met here in Colorado), who was kind enough to treat me to a vegetarian Chinese meal when I was running out of money for groceries. Of all the visitors staying there, I was one of the few Americans, and this was a wonderful change for me as I had known so few international travellers having grown up in such a small town. I met people from Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, Austria, Germany, South Africa, France, Russia, Israel, Bangladesh, China, Japan, and Switzerland all while staying at the hostel. It was wonderful to be surrounded by such a diverse, eclectic, and eccentric group of people. Though I did miss sleeping soundly.
There were a few nights at the hostel where the lack of sleep was compensated for by free entertainment. One night in particular was memorable for its eventfulness and surrealism. While I was staying there, a Russian who had been begrudgingly stranded here in America, had made the habit of going out to gamble and returning both heavily intoxicated and menacingly grouchy. Even more than myself, he was angered by any disruptions to his sleep, and on this particular night he wasn’t going to tolerate much. People would come and go at all hours, and it wasn’t uncommon to not know who was staying in the room until it was time to settle in for the night, so when a drunk man wondered into the room in only his underwear, I was unsure of whether or not he was staying in our room. When he paused in front of me and looked me in the eye, without recognizing me, it became more than clear to me that he had no idea he was in the wrong room. Stunned speechless, I gestured to the door leading to the hallway, hoping that he would remain quiet and not disturb the other hostelers on his way out. However, not only did he not comprehend that he was in the wrong, not only did he not comprehend my gesture to leave, he also failed to comprehend which room he was going into and what bed was his. He walked into the room adjoining mine, sat down on Sean’s bed, and then proceeded to remove his underpants. At this, Sean woke up realizing that someone was on his bed, and in a panic uttered out “What the – ?!” in his thick Irish accent, before the drunken intruder could respond, “Oh, oh shit. Wrong room,” and then drunkenly stumble out into the hall with his underwear suspended at his knees and his chubby buttocks fully exposed. Somewhere between being shocked, horrified, and greatly amused, Sean rushed into my room and burst out, “What was all that about?!” Stifling laughter, I began to whisper to him that a drunk hosteler from down the hall had mistaken our room for his, to which Sean began to respond before being interrupted by the drunken Russian who hollered threateningly, “It’s one o’clock in the fuckin’ morning. Don’t you know you are in a fuckin’ hostel. Other people are trying to sleep!” Sean, understandably upset, attempted to explain, “Aye, mate, but some bloody fool just came in here naked…” “I don’t give a fuck! Haven’t you ever stayed in a hostel before. This is unacceptable. If this was Russian army, I’d have you both beaten,” the Russian responded. At this, Sean almost reacted out of outrage, but I managed to calm him down, and he went back to bed making sure to lock the door to the room and leave the light on. Just to be on the safe side.
The fire escape on the back of the hostel overlooking the alley, the parking lot, and the police station. Photo taken September 6, 2013.
When another hosteler, Tim, a fellow American traveller, came home a few hours later, I met him out on the fire escape that overlooks the back alley and parking lot, where I explained the events of the night so he would be forewarned of flaring tempers and comical behavior. As he was explaining his own bizarre nightly encounter, who but the naked drunken man from down the hall should wander out into the hall. Seeing us outside, and realizing he was more than a little under dressed, the drunk man stumbled back into his room (or at least I assume that this was his room, though it’s distinctly possible he had made the same mistake twice, and wandered into someone else’s room again), and returned wrapped in a blanket. He bummed a cigarette and then fell asleep on the fire escape with it dangling in his mouth. Tim and I spent the rest of the night going over the details of the whole thing and laughing until the wee hours of the morning. Neither of us were going to forget this.
An extra large vegan Greek pizza with roasted tomatoes, red onions, jalapenos, kalamata olives, and parsley. Absolutely delicious!
Without even being too aware of it, my birthday had reared its ugly head again, and I would soon turn twenty-eight, though in all truth I have always felt much older than my biological age. Financially destitute, alone in a new place, and on my way to malnourishment, I was, unsurprisingly not in the best of spirits the week of my birthday. It didn’t bother me in the least being so far from family or friends, as outside of my mother my family never really acknowledged my birthday, and I hadn’t had birthday parties with friends since I was about eight or so. My birthday would be a small affair. But a welcome surprise came when my best friend, all too aware that I had no one to celebrate it with and was without food and money, ordered me an extra large, by which I mean gigantic, vegan pizza from socially conscious and environmentally friendly pizza chain, Pizza Fusion. The pizza was delicious as evidenced by the rare appearance of the wide grin on my face in the below photo.
A photo of me enjoying a delicious vegan pizza from Pizza Fusion. The pizza was an early birthday gift from my best friend and fellow Coloradan. Photo taken September 12, 2013.
Despite this joyful and much appreciated reprieve, life was about to take a turn, and I would find myself in even more dire circumstances. Homelessness was on the horizon.
The Denver Diaries: Chapter 1 – August through September 2013
It was early 2013, and I had moved to a rural town in Michigan to live with a friend of mine, Gail Potocki, an immensely talented contemporary symbolist painter. I lived with Gail at her farmhouse for only two months, during which I saw her create two masterpieces for her current painting series, an elegant modern reinterpretation of the absurdist archetypal figures in Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Ultimately, it was decided that I would have to move back to Maine, the state from which I came and where I was born and raised, due to the fact that I had been having severe migraines which impacted my ability to work there at Gail’s farmhouse, which needed to be rigorously maintained and renovated.
The sun sets behind Gail’s art studio in Michigan. Photo taken from the porch of her house on April 4, 2013.
Just as my train trip there had been long, my ride back was even longer, and I was exhausted by the time I’d arrived back in my tiny hometown of Wilton, Maine, though it had long ceased to feel remotely anything like a home. Perhaps I longed to see new places and to meet new people, to embark on an adventure and to immerse myself in other cultures. I had grown weary of small rural towns and the lack of diversity. I felt as much like an anachronism as anyone could, what with my general distrust of technology being used for convenience, my feeling of displacement within my own generation, and the desire to break away from the conservative, consumerist societal structure which I had been raised in.
While in Maine, I returned to my former part-time job working at the local library in the neighboring town of Jay, where I had become comfortable and made lifelong friends with my coworkers and the patrons. It was only through the generosity of my boss and friend, Tammy, that I was able to get my job back. My goal was simple. I’d save up money over the next three months and look for full-time work, but if I could not find suitable work, then I would take my savings and move out of Maine for good. This is how I’ve always been: it would take me a long time to deliberate upon a decision of magnitude, but once my mind was made up, I took swift action. This “swift action” was often perceived by those around me as impulsive, though in actuality this is because I’ve never been good at retaining the courage of my convictions once I’ve shared them with others. Prone to anxiety and always hypercritical of myself, confiding my plans in life to others has always resulted in my concern that if those plans fall through then I will look all the more ridiculous as a failure (why this should bother me, when I am either oblivious or insouciant to what others perceive of me in any matter except this, I cannot say).
The Jay-Niles Memorial Library, where I worked from April of 2008 through July 2013.
Moving to Michigan was essentially a contingency plan to begin with. Moving back to Maine was yet another contingency plan. I knew that for economic, political, social, and health reasons, I would never be content to the confines of the small community I was raised, so staying there any longer was not an option. I needed a more expansive environment, and I needed to push myself, so taking the advice of my doctor to move to a warmer, dryer climate, I decided to move to Arizona where I would spend the Winter in the desert before joining an ecological commune north of Phoenix. The vast expanse of the red-sanded desert had a certain poetic appeal to me… and it was cheaper and more realistic than trying to move to India or North Africa. I had debated with myself whether or not I would take a train directly to Arizona or whether I would first go to Colorado, stopping in Denver, and then backpacking my way from Denver southwest over the Rocky Mountains and from there to Arizona.
The welcoming view of a gorgeous sunset upon my arrival in Denver. Photo taken near the train station on August 22, 2013.
I arrived in Denver on August 22, 2013. Upon seeing the city, I was immediately struck by its diversity, ethnic, cultural, economic, political, and aesthetic, as well as by its beauty. I had a few of friends in different parts of Colorado, and they had always spoken of just what a beautiful state it is, and I found their descriptions to be, by no fault of their own, grossly understated. It’s difficult to describe, especially to one who has lived either in a rural area surrounded by nature or in an urban area surrounded by skyscrapers and industrial buildings. Denver is a peculiarity in that it has components of both. It is a city surrounded by nature. I fell in love with it instantly and more so with each day I would spend here, until finally I realized that I could not leave so soon. That said, there were other factors which had an effect on my decision, and I shall get to those later.
The hostel where I stayed for many a night and met a variable rogues gallery of interesting characters.
My first night in Denver, I was well aware that I’d need to find a place to sleep for the night, as I was quite tired from a fifty-plus hour trip by train. With the intention of living in the rough out in the desert, the prospect of sleeping on the streets wasn’t something I was at all opposed to, but I was too tired to find somewhere safe to seek temporary shelter and sleep. Fortunately, thanks to Tammy’s suggestion, I was able to find a hostel where travelers could stay for a reasonable price of twenty dollars a night. I would stay there my first three nights while I explored the city. Having never stayed in a hostel or even a motel, I had little idea of what to expect. The accommodations were rundown and crowded ̶ five bunk beds per room and as many as ten men sharing a room ̶ though at the price I paid, I had no complaints and was grateful for a place to take a shower and catch up on much needed rest. The other men in the room were quite nice, although of these, I only got to know one of them staying there. I made the mistake of taking the bottom bunk in the corner, which I came to realize was a mistake when a Chinese man whose name I never learnt jumped from the floor onto the top bunk causing the box-spring mattress to partially collapse on my head. He leaned over the side of the bunk looking at me up-side down, the two of us both stunned, and he rather embarrassed, when he said, “So sorry. That must ouch. You okay?” The whole room burst into laughter at this point. The rest of my stay there those first three nights was uneventful.
View of the Aurora Library taken on the day that my camera was lost.
On my fourth night I took the bus to Aurora to visit a friend and stayed there to see a movie and spend the night. Unfortunately, I lost my prize camera as I transferred from one bus to another at the bus station, which dampened my mood considerably since the camera was in its pouch that happened to contain not only my camera, but also my camera’s memory cards with thousands of photos taken over two years, rechargeable batteries, and the camera accessories. When I returned to Denver, I immediately began making calls to the bus line to see if I could locate my camera in a lost and found. I would spend the next week checking pawn shops, shady street vendors selling stolen items, and calling the bus line trying to reclaim my camera. Eventually, over a week later, I would be rewarded for my persistence and reminded that there were still indeed honest and caring people out there when I found a post on Craigslist in the lost and found category that someone had found my camera at the bus station. Two days later, on September 5, I was able to retrieve my camera and thank the kind woman who had returned it to me. You frequently hear stories about such things happening, but it is rare to see that kind of honesty and altruism still alive in people, so I was deeply touched.
This photo of myself was taken on September 5, 2013, on the day that my camera was safely returned to me thanks to the kindness of a stranger.
My fifth night in Denver was, to say the least, memorable. I had spent the day retracing my steps from the day before, taking the bus out to Aurora and back again looking for my camera, and then I went to the Denver Public Library to access the free Wi-Fi. Realizing that between food, staying at the hostel, bus fare, food costs, and seeing a movie at the theatre with my friend in Aurora, that my expenses were accumulating faster than I’d expected, I decided I would try my luck at a shelter. To my dismay, by the time I found the shelter, the line was long and it had begun to rain. By the time they opened the doors and started letting the indigents in, I had become frustrated and decided that I would just sleep on the streets wherever I could find someplace dry. This was risky, as I well knew, merely because of the amount of gear I had on me (my new camping backpack, a good majority of my best clothes, my hiking boots, laptop, and a wallet full of cash). Fortunately, there were no attempts by anyone to steal my belongings, however, I did meet a variety of colorful characters from three prostitutes, one of whom propositioned me, to a meth addict who squatted down ten feet from me, fully exposed herself and urinated in plain view, to a college student who was doped up on coke and tried to give me life advice.
“I mean not to be rude,” he began. “But like, how did you get here?” he asked. “I mean, like here on the streets, ya know? I know I’m messed up right now. I am totally fucked up, man. But I got a head on my shoulders and I see you, man. I see you. You just can’t let life get to you; you can’t let it get you down. I’m probably ranting. Sorry. But you know,” he continued. I interjected at this point to tell him I had fortuitously not returned to the hostel before they closed their doors for the night and didn’t have the patience to stay at the shelter, but he seemed either unable to process this information due to the effects of the cocaine, or he just was in the mood to give nonsensical philosophical lecturing. Either way, he went on, saying, “Did ya see the last Batman movie, man? Remember what Michael Caine said?” At this, I was avoiding eye contact and pretending not to listen. Passersby had begun to take notice of him, and of me, and I was feeling the tinges of embarrassment. Not embarrassment for me, though I was basically homeless, but rather embarrassment for this wannabe philosopher, this formally educated college student too drugged out of his mind to express much coherently or intelligently. Yet he persisted in his cocaine-induced folly. “’Why do we fall, man? Why do we fall? We fall so that we can learn to pick ourselves back the fuck up!’” he enthusiastically exclaimed, paraphrasing Batman Begins with a confident grin on his face. “You may think I’m out of my head, but deep down you know I’m right. You wanna come back to my place? I’ve got an ounce of coke in my pocket.” My ribs were hurting with the suppressed laughter at this point. After politely declining his request, he walked off, and I finally caught some sleep despite the sounds of the ongoing traffic.
The following morning I went straight to the hostel and paid for the next full week in advance. It wasn’t that I hadn’t been endlessly amused by the previous night’s bizarre happenings, or that I hadn’t even been somewhat exhilarated sleeping on the sidewalk on one of the busiest streets in Denver, but I rather liked the idea of actually sleeping peacefully. As it turned out, peaceful sleep was harder to come by than I anticipated, regardless of where I was.
My top bunk at the hostel – not exactly cozy accommodations, but still better than the street.
During the late ’80s and through the ’90s, female singers were reduced to performing primarily dance numbers and their talents as singers, songwriters, and musicians were often overlooked as boy bands and dance groups sprung up right and left. There were a few exceptions in the form of indie rock, folk, and alternative artists who blazed their own paths with originality and impassioned sincerity. Well, thankfully, independent pop and rock acts are making a comeback and there are some great artists who have emerged in the last ten or so years who demand to be heard! My prediction is that these artists and their respective bands will go down in the history of popular music culture alongside other greats like Janis Joplin, Patti Smith, Joan Jett, Siouxsie Sioux, Deborah Harry, Kate Bush, Cyndi Lauper, Melissa Etheridge, Indigo Girls, Sinéad O’Connor, Sarah McLachlan, Tori Amos, Gwen Stefani, and Fiona Apple.
Throughout the mid and late ’90s, the musical landscape began to change with the after-effects of the Grunge rock scene and the explosion of Alternative music in the mainstream. While some bands continued to churn out minor hits and others became one hit wonders, Soundgarden continued to rise, even after the Grunge rock sub-genre from which they originated had faltered and fallen with the demise of Nirvana. During this time, the band’s sound mellowed some, at least sonically, and the lyrics became more introspective than ever. While not as loud and raucous as before, the group had matured and evolved into a different kind of band; one that wouldn’t be dismissed due to the changes in popular music and one that would leave behind a legacy not easily forgotten. As mentioned in the previous post, due to the fact that Soundgarden has creatively been responsible for so many great rock tracks, I’ve posted this list in two parts, of which this is the second.
Soundgarden
All songs by Chris Cornell and Soundgarden.
Black Hole Sun video and lyrics
In my eyes, indisposed In disguises no one knows Hides the face, lies the snake And the sun in my disgrace Boiling heat, summer stench ‘Neath the black, the sky looks dead Call my name through the cream And I’ll hear you scream again
Black hole sun, won’t you come And wash away the rain Black hole sun, won’t you come Won’t you come, won’t you come
Stuttering, cold and damp Steal the warm wind, tired friend Times are gone for honest men And sometimes far too long for snakes In my shoes, a walking sleep And my youth I pray to keep Heaven send hell away No one sings like you anymore
Black hole sun, won’t you come And wash away the rain Black hole sun, won’t you come Won’t you come, won’t you come
Black hole sun, won’t you come And wash away the rain Black hole sun, won’t you come Won’t you come, won’t you come
Black hole sun, black hole sun Won’t you come Black hole sun, black hole sun Won’t you come Black hole sun, black hole sun Won’t you come Black hole sun, black hole sun
Hang my head Drown my fear ‘Til you all just Disappear
Black hole sun, won’t you come And wash away the rain Black hole sun, won’t you come Won’t you come, won’t you come
Black hole sun, won’t you come And wash away the rain Black hole sun, won’t you come Won’t you come, won’t you come
Black hole sun, black hole sun Won’t you come Black hole sun, black hole sun Won’t you come Black hole sun, black hole sun Won’t you come Black hole sun, black hole sun Won’t you come Black hole sun, black hole sun Won’t you come Black hole sun, black hole sun Won’t you come, won’t you come
Spoonman video and lyrics
Feel the rhythm with your hands Steal the rhythm while you can Spoonman Speak the rhythm on your own Speak the rhythm all alone Spoonman
Spoonman, come together with your hands Save me, on together with your plans Save me, yeah Save, oh
All my friends are Indians All my friends are brown and red Spoonman And all my friends are skeletons They beat the rhythm with their bones Spoonman
Oh Mmm
Spoonman, come together with your hands Save me, on together with your plans Save me Save
Save me Save me, yeah Save with your
Come on, come on Come on Come on, come on Come on Come on, come on Come on Come on, come on Come on
With your hands
With your hands Come on, come on Come on, come on Yeah
Yeah
Come on while I get off Spoonman Come on while I get off Spoonman Come on while I get off Spoonman Come on while I get off Spoonman Come on while I get off Spoonman Come on while I get off Spoonman Come on while I get off Spoonman Come on while I get off
Spoonman, come together with your hands Save me, on together with your plans Save me Save, yeah Save me With your With your Hands
Feel the rhythm with your hands Steal the rhythm while you can Spoonman
The Day I Tried to Live video and lyrics
I woke the same as any other day Except a voice was in my head It said, “Seize the day, pull the trigger, drop the blade And watch the rolling heads”
The day I tried to live I stole a thousand beggars’ change And gave it to the rich, yeah The day I tried to win I dangled from the power lines And let the martyrs stretch, yeah
Singing one more time around Might do it One more time around Might make it One more time around Might do it One more time around Might make it The day I tried to live, yeah
Words you say never seem To live up to the ones Inside your head The lives we make Never seem to ever Get us anywhere But dead
The day I tried to live I wallowed in the blood and mud With all the other pigs, yeah
Singing one more time around Might do it One more time around Might make it One more time around Might do it One more time around Might make it The day I tried to live Yeah, I tried
I woke the same as any other day You know I should have stayed in bed, yeah The day I tried to win I wallowed in the blood and mud With all the other pigs
And I learned that I was a liar One more time around I learned that I was a liar One more time around I learned that I was a liar One more time around I learned that I was a liar One more time around
Singing one more time around Might do it One more time around Might make it One more time around Might do it One more time around Might make it The day I tried to live Just like you, yeah Just like you
One more time around One more time around One more time around One more time around
Pretty Noose video and lyrics
I caught the moon today Pick it up and throw it away, all right I got the perfect steal Clean love with a dirty feel, all right Fall out and take the bait Eat the fruit and kiss the snake good night
Common ruse, dirty face Pretty noose is pretty hate And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from Hangin’ from
Let your motor race Pick it up and get this mother gone Out from and far away The wooden stake This thing it’s got me on
Diamond rope, silver chain Pretty noose is pretty pain And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from Hangin’ from And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from Hangin’ from
Common ruse, dirty face Pretty noose is pretty hate And I don’t care what you got I don’t care what you need I don’t want anything And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from Hangin’ from Hangin’ from And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from And I don’t like what you got me hangin’ from Yeah
Blow Up the Outside World video and lyrics
Nothing seems to kill me no matter how hard I try Nothing’s closing my eyes Nothing can beat me down for your pain or delight, no And nothing seems to break me No matter how far I fall, nothing can break me at all Not one for giving up, though not invincible, I know
I’ve given everything I need I’d give you everything I own I’d give in if it could at least be ours alone I’ve given everything I could To blow it to hell and gone Burrow down and Blow up the outside, blow up the outside, blow up the outside world
Someone tried to tell me something Don’t let the world bring you down Nothing will do me in before I do myself So save it for your own and the ones you can help, no
I’ve given everything I need I’d give you everything I own I’d give in if it could at least be ours alone I’ve given everything I could To blow it to hell and gone Burrow down and Blow up the outside, blow up the outside, blow up the outside world
Want to make it understood Wanting though I never would Trying though I know it’s wrong Blowing it to hell and gone Wishing though I never could Blow up the outside, blow up the outside, blow up the outside Blow up the outside world
Blow up the outside, blow up the outside, blow up the outside Blow up the outside, blow up the outside, blow up the outside Blow up the outside world Blow up the outside, blow up the outside, blow up the outside Blow up the outside, blow up the outside, blow up the outside Blow up the outside, blow up the outside, blow up the outside Blow up the outside, blow up the outside, blow up the outside Blow up the outside, blow up the outside, blow up the outside
Burden in My Hand video and lyrics
Follow me into the desert as thirsty as you are Crack a smile and cut your mouth and drown in alcohol ‘Cause down below the truth is lying beneath the riverbed So quench yourself and drink the water that flows below her head
Oh no, there she goes Out in the sunshine, the sun is mine, sun is mine I shot my love today, would you cry for me I lost my head again, would you lie for me
Close your eyes and bow your head, I need a little sympathy ‘Cause fear is strong and love’s for everyone who isn’t me Kill your health and kill yourself and kill everything you love And if you live you can fall to pieces and suffer with my ghost
I shot my love today, would you cry for me I lost my head again, would you lie for me I left her in the sand, just a burden in my hand I lost my head again, would you cry for me
It’s just a burden in my hand It’s just an anchor on my heart It’s just a tumor in my head And I’m in the dark
So follow me into the desert as desperate as you are The moon is glued to a picture of a heaven and all the little pigs have god Oh no, there she goes Out in the sunshine, the sun is mine, the sun is mine
I shot my love today, would you cry for me, yeah I lost my head again, would you lie for me, yeah I left her in the sand, just a burden in my hand I lost my head again, would you cry for me Yeah, would you cry for me
Soundgarden was one of the most promising and interesting bands to come out of the late ’80s and blossomed into one of the seminal bands of the ’90s. With their own unique brand of alternative rock, bluesy vocals, and metallic riffs, the band shot to prominence and quickly became one of the most consistently excellent rock bands since the days of Led Zeppelin. With the powerhouse vocals and lyrics of Chris Cornell and the brilliant guitar riffs of Kim Thayil, Soundgarden became a legendary band in a relatively short time. So much so, that rather than limit myself to creating a list of eight great songs and videos, I’m expanding it to two lists featuring six different songs each. A band this great deserves it.
Soundgarden
All songs by Chris Cornell and Soundgarden.
Hands All Over video and lyrics
Don’t touch me
Hands all over the Eastern border You know what, I think we’re falling From composure Hands all over Western culture Ruffling feathers Turning eagles into vultures Yeah, into vultures
Got my arms around baby brother Put your hands away You’re gonna kill your mother Gonna kill your mother, kill your mother And I love her, yeah And I love her
Hands all over the coastal waters The crewmen thank her Then lay down their oily blanket Hands all over the inland forest In a striking motion Trees fall down like dying soldiers Yeah, like dying soldiers
Got my arms around baby brother Put your hands away You’re gonna kill your mother Gonna kill your mother, kill your mother And, and, and I love her, yeah And I love her, I love her
Hands all over the peasant’s daughter She’s our bride, she’ll never make it out alive Hands all over words I utter Change them into what you want to Like balls of clay
Put your hands away Now put your hands away Put your hands away You’re gonna kill your mother Gonna kill your mother Gonna kill your mother And I love her And I love her Yeah, I love her I love her And she loves me
Loud Love video and lyrics
There’s no time to keep it low I’ve been deaf, now I want noise You stay down, but I won’t be quiet I’ll hammer on until you fight
Loud love Loud love Loud love Loud love, yeah
Hammer on until you fight
If you’ve got some time to kill Slow resistance wins the war Well, I know, but that’s no way to go You can’t resist the louder pull
Loud love Loud love Loud love Loud love, yeah
Can’t resist the louder pull, yeah
All right Well, that’s right I want something to explode I’ve been deaf, now I want noise
Loud love Yeah, loud love Loud love Loud love, love Yeah
Rusty Cage video and lyrics
Oh, you wired me awake And hit me with a hand of broken nails Yeah, you tied my lead and pulled my chain And watched my blood begin to boil
But I’m gonna break I’m gonna break my I’m gonna break my rusty cage and run Yeah, I’m gonna break I’m gonna break my I’m gonna break my rusty cage and run
Oh, too cold to start a fire I’m burning diesel, burning dinosaur bones Yeah, I’ll take the river down to still water And ride a pack of dogs
But I’m gonna break I’m gonna break my I’m gonna break my rusty cage and run Yeah, I’m gonna break I’m gonna break my I’m gonna break my rusty cage and run
Hits like a Phillips head into my brain It’s gonna be too dark to sleep again Cutting my teeth on bars and rusted chains I’m gonna break my rusty cage and run
When the forest burns along the road Like God’s eyes in my headlights When the dogs are looking for their bones And it’s raining ice picks on your steel shore
Well, I’m gonna break I’m gonna break my I’m gonna break my rusty cage and run Well, I’m gonna break I’m gonna break my I’m gonna break my rusty cage and run
Outshined video and lyrics
I got up feeling so down I got off being sold out I keep the movie rolling But the story’s getting old now Oh yeah
I just looked in the mirror And things aren’t looking so good I’m looking California And feeling Minnesota Oh yeah
So now you know Who gets mystified So now you know Who gets mystified
Show me the power, child I’d like to say That I’m down on my knees today Gives me the butterflies Gives me away ‘Til I’m up on my feet again Hey, I’m feeling Oh, I’m feeling Outshined, outshined, outshined, outshined
Oh, yeah Hey, yeah
Someone let the dogs out To show you where the truth is The grass is always greener Where the dogs are shitting Oh yeah
I’m feeling that I’m sober Even though I’m drinking I can’t get any lower Still I feel I’m sinking
So now you know Who gets mystified So now you know Who gets mystified
Show me the power, child I’d like to say That I’m down on my knees today Gives me the butterflies Gives me away ‘Til I’m up on my feet again I’m feeling Oh, I’m feeling Outshined, outshined, outshined, outshined
Mmmmm Oh yeah Mmmmm Outshined Oh, oh, oh
So now you know Who gets mystified
Show me the power, child I’d like to say That I’m down on my knees today Yeah, gives me the butterflies Gives me away ‘Til I’m up on my feet again I’m feeling I’m feeling
Show me the power, child I’d like to say That I’m down on my knees today Yeah, gives me the butterflies Gives me away ‘Til I’m up on my feet again Oh, I’m feeling Oh, I’m feeling Outshined, outshined, outshined, outshined Outshined, outshined, outshined, outshined
Jesus Christ Pose video and lyrics
And you stare at me in your Jesus Christ pose Arms held out like you’ve been carrying a load And you swear to me you don’t want to be my slave But you’re staring at me like I Like I need to be saved, saved Like I need to be saved, saved In your Jesus Christ pose In your Jesus Christ pose
Arms held out in your Jesus Christ pose Thorns and shroud, like it’s the coming of the Lord And I swear to you I would never feed you pain But you’re staring at me like I’m Like I’m driving the nails, nails Like I’m driving the nails, nails Like I’m driving the nails, nails, nails, nails, nails, nails Like I’m driving the nails, nails, nails In your Jesus Christ pose In your Jesus Christ pose
Arms held out in your Jesus Christ pose Thorns and shroud, like it’s the coming of the Lord Would it pain you more to walk on water than to wear a crown of thorns It wouldn’t pain me more to bury you rich than to bury you poor In your Jesus Christ pose Poor In your Jesus Christ pose Poor
Fell on Black Days video and lyrics
Whatsoever I’ve feared has come to life Whatsoever I’ve fought off became my life Just when every day seemed to greet me with a smile Sunspots have faded and now I’m doing time Now I’m doing time
‘Cause I fell on black days I fell on black days
Whomsoever I’ve cured I’ve sickened now Whomsoever I’ve cradled I’ve put you down I’m a searchlight soul, they say, but I can’t see it in the night I’m only faking when I get it right When I get it right
‘Cause I fell on black days I fell on black days How would I know That this could be my fate How would I know That this could be my fate Ooooh, ooooh Ooooh, ooooh
And what you wanted to see good has made you blind And what you wanted to be yours has made you mine So don’t lock up something that you wanted to see fly Hands are for shaking, no, not tying No, not tying
Sure don’t mind a change Sure don’t mind a change Yeah, sure don’t mind a change Sure don’t mind, sure don’t mind, sure don’t mind a change
‘Cause I fell on black days I fell on black days How would I know That this could be my fate How would I know That this could be my fate How would I know That this could be my fate How would I know That this could be my fate
The early era of Matchbox Twenty produced some of the best alternative rock and pop songs of the late ’90s and early ’00s. The songs were refreshingly honest, had an emotional accessibility, and the great lyrics and voice of Rob Thomas over the band’s terrific sound. This list features what are some of my favorite songs/music videos by the group and gives a fairly accurate picture of the kind of music that defined the adolescence and early adulthood of my generation.
Because many of these songs have lyrics and themes which resonate with me on a personal level and remind me of the ups and downs of my own relationships, I’ve decided to dedicate this list to my closest friends Ma Belle Chère and Ma Précieuse (they know who they are) as a testament to my love and appreciation.
Thank you for standing by me through hard times and for your willingness to open up to someone who needed you. I’m sorry for all the troubles that we’ve been through. I feel blessed to know you both.
Matchbox Twenty
All songs by Rob Thomas and Matchbox Twenty.
Real World video and lyrics
I wonder what it’s like to be the rainmaker I wonder what it’s like to know that I made the rain I’d store it in boxes with little yellow tags on every one And you could come it see it when I’m done, when I’m done
I wonder what it’s like to be a superhero I wonder where I’d go if I could fly around downtown, yeah From some other planet, I’d get this funky high on yellow sun Boy, I bet my friends would all be stunned, they’re stunned
Yeah, straight up, what did you hope to learn about here If I was someone else, would this all fall apart Strange, where were you when we started this gig I wish the real world would just stop hassling me And you, and you and me
I wonder what it’s like to be the head honcho I wonder what I’d do if they all did just what I said Well, I’d shout out an order, “I think we’re out of this, man, get me some Boy, don’t make me wanna change my tone, my tone”
Yeah, straight up, what did you hope to learn about here If I was someone else, would this all fall apart Strange, where were you when we started this gig I wish the real world would just stop hassling me
Please don’t change, please don’t break The only thing that seems to work at all is you Please don’t change at all from me To you, and you to me
Yeah, straight up, what did you hope to learn about here If I was someone else, would this all just fall apart Strange, where were you when we started this gig I wish the real world would just stop hassling me
I wish the real world would just stop hassling me I wish the real world would just stop hassling me And you and me
3 A.M. video and lyrics
She said it’s cold outside and she hands me my raincoat She’s always worried ’bout things like that She said it’s all gonna end and it might as well be my fault And she only sleeps when it’s rainin’ And she screams and her voice is strainin’
She says, “Baby It’s three a.m., I must be lonely” When she says, “Baby Well, I can’t help but be scared of it all sometimes The rain’s gonna wash away, I believe it”
She’s got a little bit of something, God is better than nothing And in her color portrait world she believes that she’s got it all She swears the moon don’t hang quite as high as it used to And she only sleeps when it’s rainin’ And she screams and her voice is strainin’
She says, “Baby It’s three a.m., I must be lonely” Hell, when she says, “Baby, yeah Well, I can’t help but be scared of it all sometimes The rain’s gonna wash away, I believe, yes”
She believes that life isn’t made up of all that you’re used to And the clock on the wall has been stuck at three for days and days She thinks that happiness is a mat that sits on her doorway But outside, it’s stopped raining
Yeah, well, she says, “Baby Well, it’s three a.m., I must be lonely” Hell, when she says, “Baby, yeah Well, I can’t help but be scared of it all sometimes And the rain’s gonna wash away, I believe this”
“Well, it’s three a.m., I must be lonely I must be lonely” Yeah, when, she says “Baby I can’t help but be scared of it all sometimes”
Push video and lyrics
She said “I don’t know if I’ve ever been good enough I’m a little bit rusty And I think my head is caving in And I don’t know if I’ve ever been really loved By a hand that’s touched me And I feel like something’s gonna give
And I’m a little bit angry, well This ain’t over, no not here Not while I still need you around You don’t owe me, we might change it Yeah, we might just feel good”
I wanna push you around Well, I will, , well, I will I wanna push you down Well, I will, well, I will I wanna take you for granted I wanna take you for granted Yeah, yeah, I will, I will
She said, “I don’t know why you ever woulda lied to me Like I’m a little untrusting When I think the truth is gonna hurt ya And I don’t know why you couldn’t just stay with me You couldn’t stand to be near me When my face don’t seem to wanna shine ‘Cause it’s a little bit dirty, well
Don’t just stand there Say nice things to me ‘Cause I’ve been cheated, I’ve been wronged You, you don’t know me Yeah, well, I can’t change I won’t do anything at all”
I wanna push you around Well, I will, well, I will I wanna push you down Well, I will, well, I will I wanna take you for granted Yeah, I wanna take you for granted Yeah, yeah, I will
Oh, but don’t bowl me over Just wait a minute Well, it kinda fell apart Things get so crazy, crazy Don’t rush this, baby Don’t rush this, baby
I wanna push you around Well, I will, well, I will I wanna push you down Well, I will, well, I will I wanna take you for granted Yeah, yeah, yeah I wanna take you, take you Yeah, I will, I will, and I will
I will, I will, I will, I will Push you down I will, I will, I will, I will Yeah, push you around I wanna push you around Well, I will
Back 2 Good video and lyrics
La, oh, oh La, oh, oh, oh La, oh, oh
It’s nothing It’s so normal You just stand there I could say so much But I don’t go there ‘Cause I don’t want to
I was thinking if you were lonely Maybe we could leave here and no one would know At least not to the point that we would think so
Everyone here knows everyone here is thinking ’bout somebody else Well, it’s best if we all keep it under our heads I couldn’t tell if anyone here was feeling the way I do But I’m lonely now And I don’t know how To get it back to good
La, oh, oh La, oh, oh, oh La, oh, oh
This don’t mean that you own me, well This ain’t no good, in fact it’s phony as hell But things worked out just like you wanted too If you see me out, you don’t know me Try to turn your head, try to give me some room To figure out just what I’m going to do
‘Cause everyone here hates everyone here for doing just like they do And it’s best if we all keep this quiet instead And I couldn’t tell why everyone here was doing me like they do But I’m sorry now And I don’t know how To get it back to good
La, oh, oh La, oh, oh, oh La, oh, oh
Well, everyone here is wondering what it’s like to be with somebody else And everyone here’s to blame Hell, everyone here gets caught up in the pleasure of the pain Yeah, well, everyone here hides shades of shame Yeah, but looking inside, we’re the same, we’re the same And we’re all grown now Yeah, but we don’t know how To get it back to good
La, oh, oh La, oh, oh, oh La, oh, oh
And everyone here knows everyone here is thinking ’bout somebody else And it’s best if we all keep this under our heads Hell, our heads, yeah See, I couldn’t tell now if anyone here was feeling the way I do But it’s over now And I don’t know how Guess it’s over now There’s no getting back to good
La, oh, oh La, oh, oh, oh La, oh, oh
If You’re Gone video and lyrics
I think I’ve already lost you I think you’re already gone I think I’m finally scared now You think I’m weak I think you’re wrong
I think you’re already leaving Feels like your hand is on the door I thought this place was an empire Now I’m relaxed I can’t be sure
And I think you’re so mean But I think we should try I think I could need This in my life And I think I’m scared I think too much I know it’s wrong It’s a problem I’m dealing
If you’re gone, maybe it’s time to come home There’s an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move If you’re gone, baby, you need to come home, come home ‘Cause there’s a little bit of something in me and everything in you
I bet you’re hard to get over I bet the room just won’t shine I bet my hands I can stay here I bet you need more than you mind
And I think you’re so mean I think we should try I think I could need This in my life I think I’m just scared That I know too much I can’t relate And that’s a problem I’m feeling
If you’re gone, maybe it’s time to come home There’s an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move If you’re gone, baby, you need to come home, come home ‘Cause there’s a little bit of something in me and everything in you
I think you’re so mean I think we should try I think I could need This in my life And I think I’m scared Do I talk too much I know it’s wrong It’s a problem I’m dealing
If you’re gone, then maybe it’s time to come home There’s an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move Yeah, and if you’re gone, yeah, baby, you need to come home, come home There’s a little bit of something in me and everything in you
Something in me, everything in you Something in me, in you
Bent video and lyrics
If I fall along the way Pick me up and dust me off If I get too tired to make it Be my breath so I can walk
If I need some other love, then Give me more than I can stand When my smile gets old and faded Wait around, I’ll smile again
Shouldn’t be so complicated Just hold me and then Oh, just hold me again
Can you help me, I’m bent I’m so scared that I’ll never Get put back together Keep breaking me in And this is how we will end With you and me bent
If I couldn’t sleep, could you sleep Could you paint me better off Could you sympathize with my needs I know you think I need a lot
I started out clean, but I’m jaded Just phoning it in Oh, just breaking the skin
Can you help me, I’m bent I’m so scared that I’ll never Get put back together Keep breaking me in And this is how we will end With you and me bent
Start bending me It’s never enough As I feel all your pieces Start bending me Keep bending me Oh, until I’m completely broken in
Shouldn’t be so complicated Just touch me and then Oh, just touch me again
Can you help me, I’m bent I’m so scared that I’ll never Get put back together Keep breaking me in And this is how we will end With you and me landing Without understanding Here I go there again
Can you help me, I’m bent I’m so scared that I’ll never Get put back together Keep breaking me in And this is how we will end With you and me bent
Disease video and lyrics
Feels like you made a mistake You made somebody’s heart break But now I have to let you go I have to let you go
You left a stain On every one of my good days But I am stronger than you know I have to let you go
No one’s ever turned you over No one’s tried to ever let you down Beautiful girl, bless your heart
I got a disease Deep inside me Makes me feel uneasy, baby I can’t live without you Tell me what I am supposed to do about it Keep your distance from it Don’t pay no attention to me I got a disease
Feels like you’re making a mess You’re hell on wheels in a black dress You drove me to the fire And left me there to burn
Every little thing you do is tragic All my life before was magic Beautiful girl, I can’t breathe
I got a disease Deep inside me Makes me feel uneasy, baby I can’t live without you Tell me what I am supposed to do about it Keep your distance from it Don’t pay no attention to me I got a disease
Well, I think that I’m sick But leave me be While my whole world is coming down on me You taste like honey, honey Tell me can I be your honey bee Be strong Keep telling myself that it won’t take long ‘Til I’m free of my disease Yeah, well, free of my disease Free of my disease, free of my disease Oh, lord
I got a disease Deep inside me Makes me feel uneasy, baby I can’t live without you Tell me what I am supposed to do about it Keep your distance from it Don’t pay no attention to me I got a disease
I think that I’m sick But leave me be While my whole world is coming down on me You taste like honey, honey Tell me can I be your honey bee Be strong Keep telling myself that it won’t take long ‘Til I’m free of my disease Yeah, well, free of my disease Set me free of my disease, oh yeah
Unwell video and lyrics
All day, staring at the ceiling, making Friends with the shadows on my wall All night, hearin’ voices telling me That I should get some sleep because Tomorrow might be good for something
Hold on Feeling like I’m headed For a breakdown And I don’t know why
But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell I know, right now you can’t tell But stay a while and then maybe you’ll see A different side of me I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired I know, right now you don’t care But soon enough you’re gonna think of me And how I used to be… me
I’m talking to myself in public Dodging glances on the train And I know, I know they’ve all been talking ’bout me I can hear them whisper And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me Out of all the hours thinking Somehow I’ve lost my mind
But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell I know, right now you can’t tell But stay a while and then maybe you’ll see A different side of me I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired I know, right now you don’t care But soon enough you’re gonna think of me And how I used to be
I’ve been talking in my sleep Pretty soon they’ll come to get me Yeah, they’re taking me away
But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell I know, right now you can’t tell But stay a while and then maybe you’ll see A different side of me I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired I know, right now you don’t care But soon enough you’re gonna think of me And how I used to be
Yeah, how I used to be How I used to be Well, I’m just a little unwell How I used to be How I used to be I’m just a little unwell
I’m not too fond of “realism”, as so often the subject matter is painted devoid of emotion and focuses instead on technical details that can become superfluous. However, there are a number of painters in the realist movement which have avoided this aesthetic pitfall and created imagery that is at once visually meticulous and emotionally gratifying. Swedish painter Anders Zorn combined the bold brush strokes and introspection of impressionism with the attention to detail and objectivity of realism. What makes him stand out from so many realist painters is that he managed to capture not just the image of his subjects, but also their emotional states and characteristics. For this reason he’s one of my favorite Swedish artists.
Poet. Painter. Illustrator. Translator. There are many labels which could be ascribed to Dante Gabriel Rossetti. I think of him most often as an aesthetic idealist and as the leading figure in the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. His artwork evokes all the medieval pageantry, love and yearning, and lyricism of a troubadour’s song. Drawing from a small number of beatific models from the Pre-Raphaelite movement, such as Lizzie Siddal, Jane Morris, Alexa Wilding, and Fanny Cornforth, Rossetti created an iconic gallery of ethereal women; some callous and detached, some angelic and graceful, but all stunningly rendered by his skillful hand. Of all the 19th Century artists, he remains among my favorites.
Perhaps the greatest goal of any artist is to present the viewer with a new perspective, or an unusual way of looking at a mundane subject, thus subverting their preconceived notions. Belgian surrealist René Magritte is an undisputed master at this. He utilized simple lines, muted colours, and everyday matter, and then juxtaposed them in absurd fashion to create something extraordinary. Much like contemporaries Dalí and Escher, Magritte sought to challenge established ideas in art about what was real and what is merely illusion. His artwork is at once atmospheric and intellectual. The imagery he created is unmistakably his own and full of quirky oddities which seem quite out of place within their environments… much like people themselves.
A telltale sign of a great artist is when you immediately recognize their work for its aesthetic values and style. Another sign is when their work can be found impacting other mediums of creativity. For these reasons, I consider H.R. Giger to be one of the greatest contemporary artists. His compelling, moody, futuristic visions have been inspiration for films, music videos, comic books, sculpture, and even interior design. Drawing upon European industrial design, the science fiction and horror genres, and his own aesthetic style often referred to as “bio-mechanical”, Giger has created an often unique and always unsettling oeuvre of his own. His artwork is a reminder of the fragility of the human condition as we become more emotionally inert, intellectually mechanical, hyper-sexual, and brutal in our way of living. Many of his works are dark provocations or surrealistic commentaries on eroticism, war, technology, and dehumanization. Some have called his creations monstrous or disgusting, and one could argue this to be true, but they are frighteningly reflective of the modern world in which we live, making them both timeless and beautiful.
Odilon Redon‘s artwork is extraordinarily unique and hard to describe. Whether working in colorful pastels, watercolors, or stark charcoal drawings, the images he created are remarkably vivid and dreamlike. Shifting in styles and genres from Post-Impressionism to Symbolism, his art is saturated with an emotional intensity that seems almost prophetic of future art movements such as Expressionism and Surrealism, yet he doesn’t seem to belong to any single movement. Rather, Redon’s skill was transcending the boundaries of what had come before and exploring what was yet to come, all the while journeying inward to a place of psychological conflict and spiritual awakening.
“The Smiling Spider” (1881)
“The Crying Spider” (1881)
“The Spirit of the Forest” (1880)
“The Buddha” (1904)
“The Flame” (1896)
“The Raven” (1882)
“Guardian Spirit of the Waters” (1878)
“Flower Clouds” (1903)
“Stained Glass Window” (1908)
“Portrait of Mademoiselle Jeane Roberte de Domecy” (1905)
“The Cyclops” (circa 1914)
“Cactus Man” (1881)
“The Smiling Spider” (1881)
“The Crying Spider” (1881)
“The Spirit of the Forest” (1880)
“The Buddha” (1904)
“The Flame” (1896)
“The Raven” (1882)
“Guardian Spirit of the Waters” (1878)
“Flower Clouds” (1903)
“Stained Glass Window” (1908)
“Portrait of Mademoiselle Jeane Roberte de Domecy” (1905)
William-Adolphe Bouguereau is perhaps one of the great heroes of the Academic art movement. His works are vividly brought to life in a manner that is at once realistic and yet also idealized. While Bouguereau confined himself to the traditional Victorian values of Academicism and Realism, the images that he managed to create during his lifetime are iconic and timeless, though he has not been treated as kindly as his contemporaries by many art historians. Often drawing on themes of gentle eroticism, the juxtaposition of beautiful women with nature, and the bittersweet reminisces of childhood, Bouguereau painted in a way that could be emotionally evocative in its realistic depiction of everyday life, but also dreamily intoxicating in the way that he romanticized human sexuality and sexual innocence.
M.C. Escher is one of those artists who is impossible to categorize. His works don’t possess the typically inherent emotions of most art movements. His art is far more procedural, intellectual, and precise in its purpose. Many of his works are woodcuts done entirely in black and white, yet his works are as complex and unforgettable as those of artists who pour the full spectrum of colors onto their canvases with paint. What Escher does is present viewers with works of art that are at once restrained in their expression of emotions, but at the same time are provocative and mentally stimulating. One could half-jokingly say that looking at an M.C. Escher print is like doing mathematical gymnastics with your eyes and brain.
Originally written and published for Century Guild’s blog on November 10, 2012.
As you know, Century Guild has relocated its gallery from Chicago, Illinois to Los Angeles, California, and we are very pleased to announce that our new location will open with a very special book signing with none other than our good friend, Jeremy A. Bastian. We will be holding a Grand Opening for the new gallery on December 1st, 2012 from 6-9pm. Jeremy will be there in person to sign books, including advanced copies of his graphic novel, Cursed Pirate Girl,which is being published by Archaia Entertainment. We will also be displaying exclusive artwork from Cursed Pirate Girl for the first time.
Cursed Pirate Girl: The Collected Edition, Volume 1 (Archaia Publishing, published Dec. 2012).
The ongoing story of Cursed Pirate Girl tells the whimsical tale of a young girl as she sets sail for adventure in search of her missing father, who is one of the legendary Pirate Captains of the mythical Omerta Seas. On her voyages, both above and below the surface of the ocean, she encounters a series of bizarre, charming, and grotesque characters that leap forth from the page with such vitality and imagination that they rival the fantastical creations of Lewis Carroll, Winsor McCay, and Terry Gilliam.
Jeremy A. Bastian, attending San Diego Comic-Con 2012, stops by the Century Guild booth to meet fans and sign autographs of his work.
At a time when just about everyone seems to be familiar with comic book characters and their worlds, primarily due to the high-end film adaptations of superhero comic books, it has become increasingly rare for comics fans to stumble across anything original. As Hellboy creator Mike Mignola has said, “It’s all too rare that I see work that is truly original – and I almost never see work THIS original – Jeremy Bastian is a genius.”
Jeremy’s work stands out for a number of reasons. Not only does he cite amongst his influences some of the great names in comic book art, he also looks even further back into the past to classic artists of the Golden Age of Illustration, and even further back than that to certain Renaissance and medieval artists. His artwork and visual narratives are created with the skill of a master, and his imagery explodes with eccentric nuances and brilliant humor that the pages can barely contain. Beyond just the amazing style of his work, there is the technique with which he creates it. While many artists in the field of fine illustration or comics go about their way, content to work with pen on over-sized sheets of paper, Jeremy creates his work using an ink well and brush, creating the work you see in the actual size and ratio that it is printed in. There are some who may call what he does madness, but if it is indeed madness, it is madness with a method and a madness to be celebrated!
Jeremy’s iconic Cursed Pirate Girl character lovingly rendered with incredible attention to the tiniest detail.
I was fortunate enough to interview Jeremy at the beginning of this year about his exuberantly imaginative creations and how he brings them to life. Here is part of that interview:
Sean: Could you tell me how you first conceived of Cursed Pirate Girl?
Jeremy: I was experimenting with all these different styles and I was really into tattoo art for a while. I don’t actually have any tattoos, but I admire the simplicity and classic design sense for its illustrative nature. I was doing a series of pin-up girl type illustrations with Prismacolor markers and pencils, and I did this pirate girl or pirate woman, and she had an eye patch – I think I even included the X on the eye patch – and she had a treasure chest on her shoulder and she was standing on this wreck where a shark had come through. It was a very complex drawing for me at the time and I really just liked the idea.
Then I was asked to do a four page mini-story for a local university that was putting on a comic art show and they were going to make a comic book for the program and anyone who showed up to the opening would receive one of these for free. So, we got a bunch of local artists together like David Petersen of Mouse Guard fame. So, he did a four-page story and I did a four-page story, based on that character. I decided that I wanted to make her more like Alice in Wonderland, or Dorothy, or Little Nemo in Slumberland, so I made her a kid instead.
Then David came out with Mouse Guard and he self-published that and I saw how well that did. So I decided to take that Cursed Pirate Girl idea and make a whole story out of it. That’s where it all came from.
Sean: Your work is incredibly detailed, both in regards to your intricate line work as well as to the multitude of characters and visual motifs that you use, so how long does it take you to complete a piece on average?
Jeremy: Well, it has changed since when I first started. I think I was much quicker, but I can’t remember exactly how quickly it was. I do know that now it takes about a week per page. I get more obsessed with just how much detail I can put into things. I think for book one, I was using a size zero brush and now I’m working with a double zero brush, so I use a much smaller brush sometimes. For me, it’s a personal challenge to see how much I can put into something and try to outdo the last page I did and to have an evolutionary process. I know that I will get it done, but it will take a long time, and I hope that many of my fans will decide to stick in there because they want to see it in print.
Jeremy A. Bastian proudly holds “The Sacking of the Royal City of Cub” which was created over the course of an astonishing 500 hours. Even more astonishing is the level upon level of minute detail incorporated into the work which measures at only 13.5 x 19 inches. To truly appreciate Bastian’s incredible draftsmanship, one must look at this under a magnifying glass.
Sean: Cursed Pirate Girl has been quite a success for you so far. It’s been through four printings by Olympian Publishing now, I think, and is being gathered into a collector’s volume featuring the first three issues published by Archaia Entertainment, which means that your readership will expand even further. Could you tell me how you feel about Cursed Pirate Girl’s legacy?
Jeremy: I can’t wait to see what more people think about it. It will be kind of difficult since it will be different from what people are used to because it will be a while before the next volume is ready to come out. I am working on Volume II, Issue #1, but I’m only a handful of pages into it and it’s going to be a pretty big book. There will of course be a space, or gap, between the two books [Volume I and Volume II]. A lot of people I’ve talked to and explain this to, have said, “Oh, you know, don’t worry about it. It’s worth taking the time to work on it.”
That’s how I’ve always seen it. If you cut corners to meet deadlines then you deny what you really want to put into it, because you have to meet a deadline for somebody else. I’ve never really understood that. The bottom line is that you’re supposed to learn to work within those parameters, but I’ve seen artists start off really strong and then they get signed with companies and have to cut corners to meet deadlines, and their work has suffered considerably for that. That’s just not something I’d want to put out there. I want to put out the best work that I can and that’s part of the obsession. I know that I can improve and be better. I look at Issues #1 and #2, and even some in #3, there are things I wish I could have taken more time on and drawn them in a different way.
I’m interested to see what people think of it. I’m really excited that it will be getting a much broader audience. I’m really excited to see what Archaia does with it because the books they are putting out are really nice, really high quality, and very interesting stuff. I think it will fit in well with them.
Jeremy’s colossally epic and extraordinarily detailed masterpiece, “The Sacking of the Royal City of Cub” (Ink on paper, 2011), made exclusively for the patrons of his unprecedented Kickstarter campaign. This monumental piece was created over the course of three months (500 hours of actual work) and features a plethora of eccentric characters from the “Cursed Pirate Girl” universe.
In the above video, you can see the printing of the exclusive bookplates that will be available at the exhibition and will be included in the advance copies of the hard cover edition of Jeremy’s graphic novel of which there will be 100 copies on hand.
As you know, Century Guild has relocated its gallery from Chicago, Illinois to Los Angeles, California, and we are very pleased to announce that our new location will open with a very special book signing with none other than our good friend, Jeremy A. Bastian. We will be holding a Grand Opening for the new gallery on December 1st, 2012 from 6-9pm. Jeremy will be there in person to sign books, including advanced copies of his graphic novel, Cursed Pirate Girl,which is being published by Archaia Entertainment. We will also be displaying exclusive artwork from Cursed Pirate Girl for the first time.
Cursed Pirate Girl: The Collected Edition, Volume 1 (Archaia Publishing, published Dec. 2012)
The ongoing story of Cursed Pirate Girl tells the whimsical tale of a young girl as she sets sail for adventure in search of her missing father, who is one…
From my own perspective Arthur Rackham remains the greatest artist from The Golden Age of Illustration which lasted from the 1880s up until around WWII. Rackham first rose to prominence with his strangely compelling illustrated works that featured all of the various elements of the greatest myths, fables, and fairy tales. The artwork that he produced contained all of the whimsy, romance, adventure, and grotesquerie that was found in their accompanying narratives. Rackham’s images became so ingrained in the minds of many children that his illustrations almost defined the essence of fantasy and legend for generations. Personally, I’ve always found his unique combination of innocent beauty with eeriness, and often tragedy, to be emotionally moving. I can’t think of any other artist in the world of illustration who managed to so evocatively retell the stories of the past with such imagination and believability.
“Soon She Was Lost to Sight in the Danube” (1909)
“Freya” (1909)
“The Third Time She Wore the Star-Dress which Sparkled with Every Step” (1917)
“At This the Whole Pack Rose Up into the Air, and Came Flying Down Upon Her” (1907)
“It Seemed as if a Sudden Swarm of Winged Creatures Brushed Past Her” (1922)
“Thor” (1910)
“The Waiting Maid Sprang Down and Maid Maleen Followed” (1917)
“Brünnhilde” (1910)
“Brünnhilde Kisses the Ring” (1911)
“Marjorie and Margaret” (1912)
“How Sire Launcelot Fought with a Fiendly Dragon” (1917)
“Titania Lying Asleep” (1908)
“When the Storm Threatened to Burst on Their Heads” (1909)
“And Now They Never Meet in Grove or Green, By Fountain Clear or Spangled Starlight Sheen, But They Do Square” (1908)
“The Magic Cup” (1908)
“Where Is Pease-Blossom?” (1907)
“Soon She Was Lost to Sight in the Danube” (1909)
“Freya” (1909)
“The Third Time She Wore the Star-Dress which Sparkled with Every Step” (1917)
“At This the Whole Pack Rose Up into the Air, and Came Flying Down Upon Her” (1907)
“It Seemed as if a Sudden Swarm of Winged Creatures Brushed Past Her” (1922)
“Thor” (1910)
“The Waiting Maid Sprang Down and Maid Maleen Followed” (1917)
“Brünnhilde” (1910)
“Brünnhilde Kisses the Ring” (1911)
“Marjorie and Margaret” (1912)
“How Sire Launcelot Fought with a Fiendly Dragon” (1917)
“Titania Lying Asleep” (1908)
“When the Storm Threatened to Burst on Their Heads” (1909)
“And Now They Never Meet in Grove or Green, By Fountain Clear or Spangled Starlight Sheen, But They Do Square” (1908)
Frida Kahlo was an extraordinary woman, whose life was full of tragedy, love, politics, and most importantly art. Kahlo remains a unique figure in art history since she, unlike so many other female artists, developed her own style that became uniquely associated with her. Whether creating symbolist portraits of herself or surreal montages of everyday life, her works have a primitive emotional quality and an insight that is unrivaled by many of her peers, including her artist husband and mentor Diego Rivera. Often exposing her personal life unabashedly, as well as reflecting on her connection to nature, Kahlo’s works are deeply poetic commentaries on what it is to be human. Kahlo’s paintings are lush, sensuous masterpieces that express the hopes and heartbreaks she experienced, revealing her to be a passionate, melancholic, vulnerable, and complex human being.
“The Love Embrace of the Universe, the Earth (Mexico), Diego, Me, and Senor Xolotl” (1949)
“Frida and the Miscarriage” (1936)
“Sun and Life” (1947)
“My Grandparents, My Parents, and I” (1936)
“Moses” (1945)
“Magnolias” (1945)
“Two Nudes in the Forest” (1939)
“What the Water Gave Me” (1938)
“The Two Fridas” (1939)
“The Broken Column” (1944)
“The Flower of Life” (1944)
“The Bride Frightened at Seeing Life Opened” (1943)
“The Love Embrace of the Universe, the Earth (Mexico), Diego, Me, and Senor Xolotl” (1949)
“Frida and the Miscarriage” (1936)
“Sun and Life” (1947)
“My Grandparents, My Parents, and I” (1936)
“Magnolias” (1945)
“Two Nudes in the Forest” (1939)
“What the Water Gave Me” (1938)
“The Two Fridas” (1939)
“The Broken Column” (1944)
“The Flower of Life” (1944)
“The Bride Frightened at Seeing Life Opened” (1943)
Originally written and published for Century Guild’s blog on October 18, 2012.
Amongst humans there is an inherent fascination with the sea and with the water from which we once sprang. Over the years we have come to understand not only the life-giving and life-sustaining necessity of our oceans, but also the primal beauty of them. Because of water’s inconstancy and ability to adapt to its environment, it has been used as a representation of the human emotional condition, but also as a symbol for the vast cosmos with its many changes and unknowns. We have imbued water with symbolic importance, as we have observed the connection between the tides and the cycle of the moon, and how those cycles reflect the very changes of human and animal life on Earth. We have created myths and fables: of seductive water nymphs and sirens who lure sailors to their dooms; of indomitable gods and goddesses who were borne of and ruled over the seas; of heroes whose mightiest weapons were plucked from mystic waters; and of babies sent in rafts either to meet their demise or to seek sanctuary by divine providence in new lands.
The image of the shipwreck has permeated all cultures as a cautionary metaphor for what happens when we drive ourselves too far, ignorant of the many consequences, or when we allow ourselves to be seduced by convenience and comfort rather than rationality. Where once the shipwreck was a symbol of human failure or death, today, with the advances of technology allowing for mass transportation of passengers and cargo, the shipwreck is frequently a disaster not only for those immediately affected. It is also a disaster for the environment and for the thousands of different forms of aquatic life that must survive, or do not survive as so often is the case, through the aftermath. So, it should come as no surprise that there must be a cautious equilibrium between ourselves and the oceans lest we wish to face catastrophe.
“The Raft of the Medusa” by Gail Potocki (2012, Oil on linen, custom frame). Taking her title from Théodore Géricault’s 19th Century painting of the same name, Gail Potocki has created another masterpiece of environmental symbolism. This particular painting is both a lament for the destruction of nature in the past and warning of the inevitable effects should such destruction continue unchecked.
The idea that a man-made tragedy can now take a great toll on non-human life as well and wreak havoc upon the environment and ecosystems is the predominant theme in Gail Potocki‘s 2012 painting, “The Raft of the Medusa“. The painting is a stark work of environmental symbolism that summons up an unforgettable image of a catastrophic shipwreck, which leaves in its wake a fire and plumes of smoke, a slick of oil on the ocean, and various birds and animals desperately clinging onto a woman, who represents all of humankind, for survival. While the proverbial rats leave the sinking ship and turn the woman’s collar into a makeshift raft, birds doused in thick oil panic and struggle to survive as they flail their wings trying to free themselves from the crude. The woman, who is garbed in an opulent dress and seemingly oblivious to the destruction and turmoil around her, discards a partially eaten apple with insouciance. Upon that apple is a sticker with a bar code, a further reminder of humanity’s attempt to control and capitalize upon nature at nature’s expense. In Gail’s own words, “I’ve often used the apple as a symbol of the Earth.”
Detail from “The Raft of the Medusa” by Gail Potocki (2012, Oil on linen). The woman’s hand lets go of the apple from which she has bitten into, letting it fall into the sea. The apple, which represents the Earth or the environment, has been used as a resource, a mere commodity, harnessed by humankind to suit their purposes and then unlovingly discarded. Meanwhile, the oil-soaked birds flail in distress around the woman.
Detail from Gail Potocki’s “The Raft of the Medusa” (2012, Oil on linen). Here, we can see the rats as they become dependent upon the woman, clinging to her collar for survival from the wreck which her species was responsible for. Standing on the back of her collar is a Vacanti mouse. The Vacanti mouse or “earmouse” as it has commonly been referred, was a SCID mouse (severe combined immunodeficiency), which are frequently used for research in biology. The Vacanti mouse had bovine cartilage grown under its skin, which then developed into the shape of an ear. Experimentation on rats and other rodents is yet another example of how humans have benefited from nature and from creatures for our own gain.
The title of Gail’s painting is an appropriation of and homage to Théodore Géricault‘s 1819 painting “Le Radeau de la Méduse“, which was one of his best known works and is a cornerstone of 19th Century French Romantic movement in art. Géricault’s painting was an ambitious work by which the French artist hoped to secure his place among the great Romantic painters of his day. Inspired by the 1816 wreck of the naval frigate, the Méduse, off the coast of what is now modern-day Mauritania. This wreck was attributed primarily to the inexperience and incompetence of its captain, the Viscount Hugues Duroy de Chaumereys. The ship was poorly navigated and had drifted a hundred miles off of its charted course, which lead to it running aground on a sandbank in West Africa. The ship carried over 400 people, of which 160 were crew members, but the capacity of the life boats was only 250 people. Those who could not be afforded room in the lifeboats built a makeshift raft, which was intended to be towed by the lifeboats, but the 147 people upon the raft was too great a number and almost immediately the raft began to take on water, so the raft was cut loose and the people on it left to their own devices. Within the first day, they had eaten the only food they had and their drinking water was lost amidst an on-board scuffle. The survivors were driven mad by exposure to the elements and starvation. Weak, malnourished, and mutinous, they began to turn on each other, eventually resorting to murder and cannibalism. By the time a rescue crew attempted to save those on the raft, only fifteen of the 147 people were still alive. The rest had perished by starvation, by sickness, by being consumed as food, or by being thrown into the sea and some of those did so of their own volition. The resulting press surrounding the tragedy became a scandal and an embarrassment for the French monarchy.
“Le Radeau de la Méduse” by Théodore Géricault (Oil on canvas, 1819). In selecting the subject matter for what he hoped would be the painting that brought him acclaim, Géricault chose to depict the harrowing moment in which the fifteen survivors of 147 upon the raft see in the distance an approaching vessel sent to rescue them. Géricault had thought that he could rise to prominence by featuring the wreck of the Méduse and its survivors as his theme, however, the painting became controversial during its 1819 unveiling at the Paris Salon in part due to its aesthetic departure from the serenity of the Neo-Classical, but also due to the sensitive subject matter and the heightened emotional response it elicited.
Gail Potocki‘s painting echoes some of the same themes as Géricault’s, such as the struggle to survive in the wake of disaster and the incompetence and arrogance of mankind. While Géricault’s painting was inspired by the wreck of the Méduse, Gail took her inspiration from more recent disasters such as the Exxon Valdez in 1989. The analogy is there and basically the same, but the great difference is that over the years we have better developed our ability to save human lives through safety precautions and rescue efforts, however, so often lessening the devastation wrought upon nature and wildlife isn’t made a priority until it’s too late.
An oil-soaked bird from the Exxon Valdez oil spill of 1989.
A detail from “The Raft of the Medusa” by Gail Potocki (2012, Oil on linen). All too true to life, Gail’s meticulously detailed and emotionally wrought depiction of the birds covered in oil is representative of the thousands of birds who have been affected by oil spills and similar man-made calamities. Through her art, we are allowed to experience their anguish, to empathize with them, and to accept that there must be change.
Eventually we must ask ourselves: What happens when we overestimate our own abilities and underestimate nature? Any conflict which arises from such a circumstance almost invariably sees a drastic loss in life, though not always human, and yet there are often consequences of horrendous proportions which some of us choose to see while others do not. We have a responsibility to ensure that the planet we depend on, and that all systems of life depends on, is taken seriously and respected. Nature is not to be trifled with. This theme, this reverential treatment of nature has oft been expressed in poetry and the arts, as has the warning for humankind not to let their ambitions outreach their grasp. Gail’s environmental paintings are a bold, always beautiful yet often unsettling, and essential reminder that we are a part of nature, that our actions do carry with them an effect (be it for good or bad), so there must be an attempt to protect the natural world around us or accept that its demise will also be our own.
Amongst humans there is an inherent fascination with the sea and with the water from which we once sprang. Over the years we have come to understand not only the life-giving and life-sustaining necessity of our oceans, but also the primal beauty of them. Because of water’s inconstancy and ability to adapt to its environment, it has been used as a representation of the human emotional condition, but also as a symbol for the vast cosmos with its many changes and unknowns. We have imbued water with symbolic importance, as we have observed the connection between the tides and the cycle of the moon, and how those cycles reflect the very changes of human and animal life on Earth. We have created myths and fables: of seductive water nymphs and sirens who lure sailors to their dooms; of indomitable gods and goddesses who were borne of and ruled over the…
Controversial Masterpieces: Censorship Of Classical Art From The Renaissance Through The 19th Century
Whether the church’s chiseling the genitalia off of ancient statues or painting over blasphemous elements in a mural, art has been a contested territory, and there has been a long history of suppressing art that challenged the social mores of its day or expressed ideas deemed as obscene or heretical. Perhaps because art existed before the written word, before most other physical mediums of expression, it could be argued that art was the first form of communication outside of verbal speech to be censored. In the world of art, censorship often takes on three forms, either a work of art is expurgated (altered to exclude content that may offend), removed from public view, or destroyed altogether. The latter is rare since most cultures around the world hold art in high esteem and don’t wish to see its destruction regardless of its perceived objectionable qualities. Expurgation or obscurement has been more common. Continue Reading
Introduction
Even in its most benign form, the practice of censorship is an undeniable violation of a human being’s inherent right to express his or herself, and any policy which allows for censorship is detrimental to the foundation of a progressive society. Generally, censorship has been utilized by organizations (be they political, religious, commercial, or social in origin) as a way to suppress unpopular ideas, opinions, or viewpoints, particularly if they suggest a dissenting perspective. While many people may associate censorship with foreign dictatorships or the corporate media, the issue is far more expansive and pervasive. Indeed, censorship has prevented the exchange of information for many, many centuries and its history is arguably as old as our own.
At its core, censorship is a way to restrict people from self-expression and limit their exposure to ideas. By controlling the public’s awareness of and access to certain information outlets that may be deemed controversial or subversive, authoritarian powers are able to place a stranglehold on the collective perception of a community. Often the application of censorship is accompanied by the use of propaganda, disinformation, or materials with which opinions can be swayed in favor of one party or against another. While these techniques are nothing new, the methods of enforcing them have greatly evolved over the centuries as technological advancement has occurred.
In today’s world, censorship is so common (as is the use of propaganda and disinformation) that the average citizen of most highly populated countries is likely to be affected by it in some manner on an almost daily basis. As such, paranoia regarding the media has also become common. While questioning the validity and integrity of information and its source is necessary in the world’s modern sociopolitical arena, mistaking editorialization with censorship has become an increasingly frequent problem that tends to exacerbate hostilities between people of opposing viewpoints. To prevent unnecessary debate and conflict, it is then necessary to create crystalline definitions that lay down the extent to which free speech can be limited, altered, or discouraged altogether. Below are definitions of censorship, editorialization, propaganda, and disinformation taken from the dictionary.
censorship
cen•sor•ship (sen´sər ship) n. 1. the act of censoring 2. the work of or position of a censor 3. the examination and prohibition of materials deemed to be objectionable
editorialization
ed•i•to•ri•al•ize (ed´ə tô ré əl ĭzā´shən) n. 1. to express editorial opinions on a given topic 2. to place editorial information into a written article 3. to present what is considered by an editor to be relevant content while omitting any content considered irrelevant or inappropriate
propaganda
prop•a•gan•da (präp é gan´da) n. 1. any system of which is used to promote or disseminate certain ideas, doctrines, practices, or people 2. any material used for the sole purpose of proselytizing an individual and/or group of individuals in a concerted effort of converting them to a specific viewpoint or to adopt a particular set of beliefs
disinformation
dis•in•for•ma•tion (dis in´fər mā´shən) n.
erroneous or inaccurate information intentionally and often covertly spread in an attempt to divert or distract people from the truth
What’s interesting about these definitions is how purposefully vague they are. It’s clear that on a person-to-person basis, the way that censorship, editorialization, propaganda, and disinformation are perceived will vary from one person to the next, thus causing these words to be defined as much by our own perspectives as by their very nature. Failing to establish a definitive, universal set of guidelines as to what constitutes these acts may at first appear unhelpful, but in their subtle ambiguity we can also find the very freedom that these acts negate. To truly understand these concepts, one must look not to their definitions (as these metamorphose and evolve over time), but rather seek out their meanings through the history of their existence. In the following essay, I shall attempt to illuminate said history and provide readers with the information needed to form their own philosophical stance on the matter. Continue Reading
Originally written and published for Century Guild’s blog on August 23, 2012.
When it comes to the subject of erotica in art and literature, I consider myself to be a person of discerning tastes. Outside of John Cleland’s Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, the writings of Donatien Alphonse François, le Marquis de Sade, and D.H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover, I have found most explicitly erotic literature to be banal and mechanical. So often, it merely serves a primal function, but rarely offers up anything more than titillation or sexual catharsis.
When it comes to art, a great example of this would be the erotic illustrations of Édouard-Henri Avril, one of the premiere pornographic artists of the late 19th Century, and an artist whose work I admire very much. However, while Avril’s work is splendid in its timeless appeal and subject matter, what it lacks, what it fails in, is that it’s fairly unimaginative and inexpressive. The compositions are predictable and the use of color is minimal and overly restrained. Though his illustrations succeed in providing an iconic visual counterpart to the erotic literature it accompanies, it rarely ever offers provocation of the mind or evocation of the emotions. In other words, it is simply visual eye candy displaying a wide range of physical experiences without the enrichment of genuine expression.
Yet there is another kind of erotic art that manages to do so much more than this.
Artists such as Gustave Courbet, Félicien Rops, Gustav Klimt, and Egon Schiele found their own unique way to convey erotic themes and ideas through artwork, and their works, while varying in style and predilection, all display a level of personality and expression that was unsurpassed during their lifetimes. This was art, not for the sake of arousal, but art for the sake of art and with the power to elicit feelings of passion, desire, loneliness, and introspection.
With the commercial rise of erotica in the late 19th Century and early 20th Century, there has been an ever outward-growing spiral of mediums to accommodate those in desire of exploring their carnality and sensuality vicariously through the creations of others. Today, we have artwork, literature, music, cinema, and countless other media with which to express ourselves, so unsurprisingly human desire has spilt over into all of these areas, although in some areas more than others.
One art form that has been proliferating in the public eye since the late 1930s is comic books and graphic literature. Strangely, with the exception of lasciviously humorous cartoons and buxom heroines in tight-fitting costumes (or no costumes at all, in some cases), the medium hasn’t explored sensuality as in-depth as other narrative mediums. Outside of Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie’s Lost Girls, it is difficult to think of one well-known work of erotic graphic literature… until recently.
Last year saw the publication of an exceptional work: Dave McKean‘s text-less graphic novel, Celluloid.
The cover of “Celluloid”, an erotic graphic novel by Dave McKean.
Celluloid, which was published in 2011 by Delcourt in Europe and by Fantagraphics Books in the United States, is perhaps a different kind of erotica than what people have come to expect. Firstly, it is a graphic novel, and unlike so many graphic novels, it does not revolve around superheroes, monsters, or crime. It’s a work of fantasy and like most works of fantasy, it is about a journey, but this book is about a journey inward into the sensuality of the human mind and into the mysteries of human desire. It is “fantasy” in the purest sense of the word.
The unnamed woman arrives at her lover’s Paris apartment, where unbeknownst to her, she will soon begin a journey into a surreal world of uninhibited passion and pleasure. The beginning of the story opens with Dave McKean’s wonderful line drawings with their sharp angles and muted tones.
There seems to be a frequent attitude in the Western World that sexuality is still a taboo, or if not a taboo, something that is acceptable only as the subject of jokes or commercial exploitation, but not socially acceptable within the realm of a serious dialogue or as a form of expression in the arts. Meanwhile, violence is continually paraded as entertainment. This has been true in almost all media, but even more-so in comics.
A mysterious couple kissing in the lamp-lit city streets of the strangely voluptuous new world. And as the story progresses, the blandness of reality becomes drenched with the decadence of lush colors and rich textures.
Dave McKean acknowledges this in saying, “There are so many comics about violence. I’m not entertained or amused by violence, and I’d rather not have it in my life. Sex, on the other hand, is something the vast majority of us enjoy, yet it rarely seems to be the subject of comics.”
The woman finds another film projector in the city and starts the reel. The use of light and texture here is very evocative and lends a sense of mystery to the film projectors, and begs the question, are they guiding her on her journey of self-discovery and pleasure or are they leading her down a dark path of temptation and vice?
Elaborating on his feelings about the majority of pornography, McKean states, “It’s rather awful visually and aesthetically, and it’s repetitive, and it’s rather dull, and it’s rather utilitarian. It ticks a box, but it really doesn’t do much else. So, I’m trying to do a book, and it would be nice to do a book, that would tickle the mind and the imagination, as well as other parts of the body.”
The hands emerge from the screen and reach out yearningly for the woman who waits in breathless anticipation for their touch. The multi-media aspect of the book is creative and inspiring as Dave uses all of his talents as line illustrator, painter, photographer, sculptor, and collage artist.
Taking the problems of erotic art into mind, McKean then set out to create an erotic comic that would defy convention and aspire to be more. And he has certainly excelled in this pursuit, for Celluloid is quite unlike any graphic novel seen in the mainstream publishing world. In part, this is due to the unapologetic sexual nature of the work, but more-so to do with the fact that McKean has chosen to not use literal narration or dialogue to tell his story. Perhaps this is because he found most of the dialogue in works of erotica to be redundant or perhaps he went this route as a reflection of his own love of silent cinema.
Celluloid is certainly deeply rooted within the world of films, of visual expression, and the act of watching. Whatever the reason, the book greatly benefits from the lack of text. Indeed, that’s part of what makes it so special. The story takes on an ambiguity and poetic quality, much like in a silent film, that allows for those reading (or viewing) the book to interpret it in different ways. It also makes the book wonderful to re-examine again and again, as each time one will notice that their mood or perspective alters their perception of the work, and in so doing deepens their appreciation of the artwork and story.
The woman watches as the carnal hands retract back into the screen from which they originated. The different styles of art allow the characters to take on a new level of expression and range of emotion. This particular image is one of my personal favorites.
The story tells the tale of a woman who becomes sexually frustrated when her partner isn’t able to come join her at his Paris apartment and make love to her because he’s busy with work. So she resorts to taking a sensuous bath and then pleasuring herself on the sofa. However she finds herself drawn to a film projector in the apartment and an overpowering curiosity takes hold of her. As the images project onto the wall she realizes that the film is of an erotic nature, but before she can absorb the details of the film, the reel burns out.
Now, mysteriously in the place of the projection on the wall is a set of ornate doors leading into another world. She walks through them and finds herself in a strange, somewhat eerie, and very sexual new world where couples are making love in public view. At first shocked, then in turn amused and titillated, the woman wanders through the city streets and comes across another film projector. There are many projectors in this strangely sensual world and with each viewing of the film she is transported through a portal to another locale where she makes love to a startling vivid and intriguingly bizarre character.
During these surreal sexual encounters, she is given a passionate massage by a plethora of hands, she makes love to a nature goddess with fourteen breasts and grapes and grapevines for hair, is seduced by a very well endowed devil whom she satiates orally, and then finally arrives at the final stage of her journey where she has a passionate tryst with benevolent shadowy figure who emerges from a vulva-like structure in the ceiling.
Meanwhile the woman’s lover back in the “real world” comes home to their apartment and discovers the film projector and plays the reel of film… at which point it is revealed that his lover is the very woman in the film. Their eyes lock and the question remains: is this reality or is this a dream? And if so, whose dream is it, his or hers?
The woman and the nature goddess kiss. Again, the use of photography ingeniously juxtaposed with painting and drawings gives the imagery dimension and a tangible, sensuous quality that otherwise could not have been achieved.
After her dark romance with a devil, the woman runs through a room of orgiastic goings on and finds herself before a door bearing a mask over it. The use of masks in Dave’s art, stories, and films has often been commented on and discussed. What he does with the mask is unusual, because masks as a rule are an artifice which hides the true face beneath it, but Dave takes the mask and finds a way to conjure up a greater sense of the personality behind despite the concealment of facial features.
Artistically, McKean is in his element transitioning seductively from one style to another for each segment of his story. At times, the art has echoes of Klimt and Schiele, at times it is reminiscent of Odilon Redon, Pablo Picasso, René Magritte, SalvadorDalí, or Wiktor Sadowski, and yet it remains unique unto McKean’s own evolving style. His aesthetic here is the culmination of his influences, but also uniquely his own. One can see traces of his archetypal figures from the tarot decks he’s created (the lovers, the goddess, the devil, the shadow, etc.).
The woman is lost in a moment of pleasure. In this beautiful image, one can see Dave’s love of collage and photography, as the woman is lost in a world that may or may not be real and may or may not be of her imagination.
Each sequence of the story has its own texture, its own color palette, its own medium. Through monochromatic and expressionistic line drawings done in sepia tones, the world of reality is given a somewhat stark and perhaps even unflattering depiction, but within the realm of fantasy, things take on new shapes and colors as McKean incorporates sumptuous paintings, delicate collage imagery, and alluring photography, all the while breathing life and beauty into a surreal world of voluptuous fantasies. Because of this, the book’s episodic nature is all the more peculiar, as each of the protagonist’s lustful encounters takes on a unique aesthetic and sexual component, which not only speaks volumes of McKean’s own interests, but also allows for each individual reader to have a particular episode that they can relate to on a deeper level.
Startled by the absence of his lover, the man ponders the film projector in his apartment. Returning to so-called reality and the elegantly produced line drawings with their sepia tones.
Two bodies, two minds, two worlds coming together in a climactic moment of rapturous exhilaration. Perhaps the most overtly sexual portion of the book is the photographic finale, where reality and fantasy meet. What is interesting is that Dave avoids the excesses of photographic erotic, showing us just what we need to rouse our intellects and emotions, but never going so far as to be gratuitous. Life is balance, and even with its surrealist and expressionist extremes, “Celluloid” offers an element of balance which will keep people returning to its pages again and again.
In the final examination, Celluloid is a stunning and rather elaborate enigma – a prismatic puzzle of the mind through which we can view the complexity and beauty of the full spectrum of human sensuality. As a graphic novel, it marks a shift in the paradigm and allows the medium to move forward in its maturity and encourages writers and artists in the industry to explore new ground. As a series of artworks, it is a captivating glimpse into McKean’s interests and his potential for continual growth and experimentation. As a work of erotica or pornography, it elevates its subject matter beyond the pits of commercial smut and exploitation, allowing its unabashed sexuality to be viewed as a celebration of mutual gratification between the mind and the body, between the genders, between solitary images and the sequential narrative. Celluloid is a sensual fantasia, a journey into a wonderland of physical ecstasy, and an opulent reverie to be shared.
When it comes to art, a great example of this would be the erotic illustrations of Édouard-Henri Avril, one of the premiere pornographic artists of the late 19th Century, and an artist whose work I admire very much. However, while Avril’s work is splendid in its timeless appeal and subject matter, what it lacks, what it fails in, is that it’s fairly unimaginative and unexpressive. …
Originally written and published for Century Guild’s blog on May 19, 2012.
I’ve grown up loving art of all different eras and aesthetic movements, however, with that said, I rarely find a piece of artwork that genuinely moves me so deeply that it becomes forever emblazoned in my mind and heart. There are paintings from the Italian Renaissance, the Romanticists, the Pre-Raphaelites, the Symbolists, and then later from the Expressionists, which have managed to do this, yet most modern art seems to be so concerned with style and conceptualization, that it becomes emotionally devoid in its presentation. So, it is a very special feeling when a contemporary artist creates a piece of work that speaks to the mind, as well as to the heart, can evoke emotion, and provoke thought. Gail Potocki‘s painting, “The Repositioning of Artifice” is such a piece of work.
“The Repositioning of Artifice” by Gail Potocki (2012, oil on linen).
The painting was to me upon first impression, a meditation on the loss of childhood innocence and a look at the inevitability of emotional/spiritual desensitization and death. There’s a strong sense of irony and dark whimsy as the seemingly childlike toys approaching the girl close in menacingly. I was immediately reminded of Lewis Carroll‘s bizarre, fantastical odyssey in which he sent Alice down the rabbit hole and then through the looking glass on a journey of self-discovery and growth.
However, this was not what Gail had in mind specifically in creating the painting, and yet there is still a sense of the loss of innocence… but of nature’s innocence. Gail explained to me that the painting represents humanity’s attempt to take the natural world and to corrupt it or taint it with technology in the vain pursuit of making it better or forcing it to conform to our own selfish needs.
“Initially, as I started on this piece, I was thinking about loss in terms of the natural world; and how future generations having not known what once was, will not miss what is lost. I thought of how artificial substitutes would be more real than what is or was once real.
The title ‘The Repositioning of Artifice‘ refers to that idea of the artificial taking the place of the real: a toy bear, larger than life, occupying a landscape that once belonged to the real thing. And, then maybe this landscape that it is occupying isn’t as real as we think it is either (note the tear to the landscape on the right side of the painting).
Also, the stuffed toy bear is one of a child’s first exposures to a representation of a wild animal. While much of real nature is diminishing and heading towards extinction, this artificial representation becomes more real and tangible than the living entity that may soon become nothing more than a symbol of a mythic beast.“
And so, the beauty and wildness of nature is sterilized and irreverently emulated, the animals of the wild are replaced with cheap imitations in the form of stuffed toys, and the children who inherit the earth grow up not knowing the difference between the environment outside their doors and the simulations projected coldly from their digital screens. It’s a disquieting notion and yet one that must be acknowledged. All anyone need do is look outside to see the stark contrast between what we try to surround ourselves with and what we have chosen to create. Street signs marking “Long Plains Ave.” or “Deer Crossing Blvd.” where there has been no grass or deer for over a century does make it seem like we, people, are playing a cruel joke upon ourselves.
We yearn for nature at its most untamed and primitive for its beauty, but when faced with such a reality, we are humbled and fearful or see only the opportunity to harvest it and exploit it. Instead we create an alternative nature that not only pales in comparison, but which exists at our convenience and allows us to dominate it. Instead of coexistence with the natural world, we have become its warders, its prison guards, its mockingly sympathetic masters.
A detail of “The Repositioning of Artifice” in which the delicate facial expression of the girl can be more closely seen and appreciated. Is she feeling numbed by the icy touch of her toy bear? Does she realize that it is the product of man’s creation and not in fact an actual bear? Is she indifferent to the artifice that exists around her or does she quietly mourn the degradation of nature’s wonders?
In addition to being a very emotionally charged work, from a technical standpoint, the painting is perhaps one of Gail’s greatest achievements. The level of detail and realism (or perhaps the illusion of realism) is extraordinary in its nuance and depth. Also, Gail has done something unique here in terms of her color palette, lighting, and thematic subject matter. Normally a work of art that offers such a sense of loss and foreboding makes use of stark contrasts in light and monochromatic colors, such as seen in chiaroscuro, but Gail has effectively conveyed that same mood using cool colors and an illuminated environment, which adds to the sense of distance from reality.
In the final view, The Repositioning of Artifice is a modern masterpiece of symbolism. It is both a warning to us of what we still have yet to lose and a lament for that which is lost and which cannot be regained. Gail has elegantly and powerfully stated in imagery the importance of protecting not only our children and generations yet to come, but the need for preserving the natural balance of the environment and the creatures that inhabit it.
I’ve grown up loving art of all different eras and aesthetic movements, however, with that said, I rarely find a piece of artwork that genuinely moves me so deeply that it becomes forever emblazoned in my mind and heart. There are paintings from the Italian Renaissance, the Romanticists, the Pre-Raphaelites, the Symbolists, and then later from the Expressionists, which have managed to do this, yet most modern art seems to be so concerned with style and conceptualization, that it becomes emotionally devoid in its presentation. So, it is a very special feeling when a contemporary artist creates a piece of work that speaks to the mind, as well as to the heart, can evoke emotion, and provoke thought. Gail Potocki‘s painting, “The Repositioning of Artifice” is such a piece of work.
“The Repositioning of Artifice” by Gail Potocki (2012, oil on linen).
Je dédie affectueusement cette collection de chansons qui bougent mon cœur à ma belle.
I love you so much and yet no words that I can conjure up can adequately express the way you make me feel. There is a warmth and a fullness in my soul that I’ve never known before, and I am determined to let you know how deeply my love for you runs, though my mere words aren’t sufficient to the task. So, until I can hold you in my arms, until I can kiss and caress and make love to you, until I can cook for you, until I can whisper my love to you in the darkness, and until I can wipe your tears from your eyes and replace them with the sound of your sweet laughter, these words and these melodies will have to suffice… Continue Reading
Originally written and published for Century Guild’s blog on April 26, 2012.
On February 26th, 2012, something rather extraordinary occurred: The Artist, a contemporary silent film won the ‘Academy Award for Best Motion Picture of the Year’. Almost coinciding with this momentous occasion is the fact that a few days later, March 4th marked the 90th anniversary of what is my favorite film of all time, Nosferatu – Eine Symphonie des Grauens, directed by German silent filmmaker Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau. On March 4th, the film had its gala preview showing back in 1922. The film, for those who aren’t familiar with it, has become an iconic classic among the annals of horror films and is one of the most visually poetic of the films often collectively referred to as German Expressionist cinema.
Max Schreck as Count Orlok and Greta Schröder as Ellen. In the starkly climactic scene of the 1922 film “Nosferatu”, the vampire Count Orlok is lured to his demise with an offering of blood by the virtuous and virginal heroine, Ellen Hutter. As she sacrifices herself to his monstrous appetite, Count Orlok is diverted and unaware of the passing time, thus rendering him helpless to the lethal first rays of sunlight.
“Nosferatu” (2010, mixed media). Dave McKean’s marvelously expressionistic interpretation of the same scene in the film. One of the great examples of his ongoing “Nitrate” series of paintings which are a glorious homage to classic films of the early era. The use of tortured angles, rich textures, and chiaroscuro effects would have met with great approval from the film’s director F.W. Murnau.
Many of these silent films possess a symbolic quality and a visual poetry that most modern films lack entirely. The filmmakers of the Expressionist movement took advantage of the environment in which the story played out and used it to serve as a visual metaphor for the emotional state of the characters. Cinematographers and cameramen employed new techniques in moving the camera around while shooting, in addition to placing an emphasis on the contrast between light and shadow. Meanwhile editors experimented with cutting scenes so as to create the illusion of geographical and emotional continuity from one shot to the next.
It was a new era and because no one had ever laid out the rules or guidelines for what couldn’t be done in the cinema, many filmmakers approached their craft with an experimental curiosity, both in terms of the subject matter that they explored and the way in which they went about creating the haunting imagery being shown on screen.
The ominous figure of Mephisto, played by German character actor Emil Jannings, hovers over the town as his colossal wings fan a miasma of plague on the people. This classic scene from F.W. Murnau’s 1926 film “Faust” was a showcase not only for special effects of the day, but also a wonderful opportunity to display the operatic scale of the battle between good and evil in the cinematic medium.
“Faust” (2007, mixed media). Dave McKean’s impressive take on the memorable scene. The way in which he has fabricated the effect of the wind and the cloud of plague blowing over the rooftops is extremely creepy and stylistically rivals the same effect achieved in the film.
Interestingly, there has been in the past few years a growing appreciation and understanding of why silent cinema is so special. While film scholars and cineastes have long championed silent films for their artistic merits and their technical innovation, many modern film audiences have until recently dismissed them as relics of the past, but now with the this new recognition that silent films are receiving, many movie goers are reevaluating their initial stance on these classics. No more are they being viewed as fading relics of redundant or obsolete technologies. Finally, more people are beginning to see their artistic value and the important part that they played in the continuing evolution of the movie industry.
Without the films of Georges Méliès, Robert Wiene, Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau, Carl Theodor Dreyer, Sergei Eisenstein, Fritz Lang, Georg Wilhelm Pabst, Victor Sjöström, Paul Leni, and others, we wouldn’t even have had the wonderful European art house films of the past 50 years. And these are but just a few of the great filmmakers from Europe. There were many wonderful silent film directors in America and throughout other parts of the world. Taking that into consideration, the long lasting effect of these films cannot be understated; they are an essential part of our culture and of cinematic history.
When you think of these films and the long, rich history of cultural influence that they carry, it seems almost surprising how many of the still images have been remembered and made iconic almost more than the films themselves. Perhaps this is due to the fact that silent cinema is so purely a visual medium and the aesthetics being projected on screen owe as much to art as they do to literature and photography.
A photographic portrait of Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau, circa 1924, taken from the promotional program booklet of “Der Letzte Mann” (known in America as “The Last Laugh”).
F.W. Murnau is a perfect example of this. Many scenes in his films were directly inspired by works of art ranging from the Dutch masters Rembrandt Van Rijn and Jan Vermeer, to Romanticists like William Blake and Caspar David Friedrich, to Symbolists like Arnold Böcklin and Decadents Félicien Rops. His films are beautifully composed and informed by his classical art education, but also by his close circle of friends who had embraced a more liberal, bohemian lifestyle and the art of the Expressionists and Dadaists. Murnau was very much a poet in the way that he directed, being both concise and precise in the images that he chose to show on screen, and he would often re-shoot a single scene a multitude of times until he reached just the level of nuance that his perfectionism demanded. Despite the fact that Murnau was certainly what one would consider an auteur of films, he was also a collaborative man and he worked very closely with his set designers, cameramen, actors, and screen writers. Yet his films remain uniquely his own as an extension of his personality, ideas, and interests.
A scene from F.W. Murnau’s “Schloß Vogelöd”, also known by its American title “The Haunted Castle”. The film is a melodrama in which a hunting party and gathering at Castle Vogelöd results in the unveiling of a mystery involving a group of aristocrats, a murderer, and a young widow with a secret.
“Schloß Vogelöd” (2010, mixed media). Dave McKean’s eerie evocation of the same scene from the film. Again, McKean employs methods that Murnau would have very much appreciated, conjuring up the sense of a voice speaking in a whisper, yet where no voice can be heard.
In addition to early filmmakers like Murnau and other later filmmakers such as Ingmar Bergman, this could also be said of many modern artists who take their inspiration not only from other artists, but from films as well. Dave McKean (best known for his brilliant cover art on Neil Gaiman‘s The Sandman and as the illustrator of numerous graphic novels such as Arkham Asylum, Violent Cases, and Mr. Punch, and children’s books such as Coraline and The Graveyard Book) is also fascinated with silent films and the foundation of the motion picture as an art form.
For McKean, this began when he was young and he purchased a book on horror films, which documented the progress of the genre, and featured numerous photographs. The photographs were in black and white, were fuzzy, out of focus, or damaged by time. Because of this, and because of their frequently ambiguous and enigmatic imagery, McKean found himself captivated by these photos. He has since sited the imagery of these early films as one of the things that urged him to become a visual artist and then later a filmmaker (McKean’s fantasy film MirrorMask was released via The Jim Henson Company and Sony Pictures in 2005, The Gospel of Us: The Passion of Port Talbot is currently in limited release in the UK, and he is also at work on finishing post-production on his follow-up film Luna).
In the past few years, Dave McKean has set out to pay homage to the great masterpieces of early cinema in an extraordinary creative venture which he is calling Nitrate. The paintings in this series are a celebration of early films in which McKean has either given us his interpretation of a particular scene or encapsulated the themes, story, and characters into a singular striking image. These paintings have been displayed at various exhibitions at different venues including Billy Shire Fine Arts and here at Century Guild, where they have been displayed alongside original silent film posters as part of Nitrate + Kinogeists. They will also be gathered together in a Nitrate book at some time in the future.
Das Maschinenmensch (The Machine-Man) from Fritz Lang’s groundbreaking science-fiction epic “Metropolis”. In the film, amidst a cataclysm of social unrest, a mad scientist animates a robot, and gives it the face and form of a beautiful woman in order to cause a revolt of the workers in the lower social stratosphere against the wealthy industrialists who live in the monolithic skyscrapers above.
“Metropolis” (2010, mixed media). Dave McKean’s extraordinary rendering of the animation of the Maschinenmensch is a stunning work that is reminiscent of the works of Ludwig Meidner and even to some extent Pablo Picasso’s Cubist paintings. Here, McKean has not only paid homage to one of the all-time classic scenes of silent films, science fiction, and cinema at large, he has placed an emphasis on certain aspects of the image, creating a subtle erotic tension.
Perhaps there is no greater example of German Expressionism on screen than Robert Wiene’s 1919 film, “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”, a tale of murder, tragedy, and madness. The story centers around a man relaying his tale of how a mountebank came to his small village during a fair and unleashed a hypnotically-controlled, murderous somnambulist upon the people. The end of the film reveals a complex psychological twist that would foreshadow the psychological thrillers of Hitchcock and many other filmmakers.
“Das Cabinet des Doktor Caligari” (2009, mixed media). Dave McKean’s painting inspired by the film takes two of the central characters of Dr. Caligari, the mountebank and Cesar, the somnambulist and juxtaposes them on the crooked path leading to the town. You can really get the sense that the bespectacled Caligari is a master of fate, a puppeteer of the mindless automaton, Cesar.
But Dave hasn’t limited himself exclusively to interpretations of silent films. Oh, no, he has also created wonderful works inspired by early sound films such as Fritz Lang‘s 1931 proto-Noir thriller “M”, Carl Theodor Dreyer‘s bizarre and haunting 1932 feature Vampyr, and Gustav Machatý‘s 1933 romantic melodrama Extase. The latter film was a source of controversy due to two scenes; one in which the beautiful Hedy Lamarr goes bathing in the nude and another in which she is shown from the shoulders up during an orgasm.
“Ekstase” (2010, mixed media). Echoing the subtle eroticism of the film in which Hedy Lamarr had her famous bathing scene, and foreshadowing the style used in his graphic novel “Celluloid”, Dave McKean creates yet another astonishing work in the “Nitrate” series that is at once an homage to the films of the past, but also a glimpse into the future of art.
Many of these paintings and others can be purchased as part of a limited series of prints (more about that below) from Century Guild. The above painting, Ekstase, has been on display at the Century Guild gallery this month. Other paintings in the series can also be found HERE and HERE in the exhibition catalogs for Nitrate + Kinogeists.
Printed by Transmission Atelier in 2010, the Nitrate paintings of Dave McKean are a superb addition to the collection of any cineaste or art enthusiast. Each print is 22″ x 22″, printed on Fine Art Lustre paper with digital pigment print. The prints are limited edition, signed, and numbered. Numbered prints #1-10 are priced at $850. Numbered prints #11-90 are priced at $350
There’s also a very limited edition of 36 x 36″ prints.
Digital pigment print on Archival Silver Gloss edition paper Limited edition signed & numbered prints, 1-5 ($2150)They still have prints of the paintings inspired by the following films:La Phrénologie Burlesque (George Méliès, 1901) Der müde Tod (Fritz Lang, 1920) Schloß Vogelöd (F. W. Murnau, 1921) Nosferatu (F.W. Murnau, 1922) Faust (F.W. Murnau, 1926) Der Student von Prag (Henrik Galeen, 1926) M (Fritz Lang, 1931)
On February 26th, 2012, something rather extraordinary occurred: The Artist, a contemporary silent film won the ‘Academy Award for Best Motion Picture of the Year‘. Almost coinciding with this momentous occasion is the fact that a few days later, March 4th marked the 90th anniversary of what is my favorite film of all time, Nosferatu – Eine Symphonie des Grauens, directed by German silent filmmaker Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau. On March 4th, the film had its gala preview showing back in 1922. The film, for those who aren’t familiar with it, has become an iconic classic among the annals of horror films and is one of the most visually poetic of the films often collectively referred to as German Expressionist cinema.
Max Schreck as Count Orlok and Greta Schröder as Ellen. In the starkly climactic scene of the 1922 film “Nosferatu”, the vampire Count Orlok is…
Originally written and published for Century Guild’s blog on March 2, 2012.
One of the original posters from the controversial cult classic film, “Freaks”, released in 1932 and directed by Tod Browning.
Deep down, I think we all have an attraction to the strange and unusual. Some people don’t want to admit it and others will just as soon look away in disgust or horror, but in actuality, for a number of reasons, those that we regard as different or as strange and unusual hold a fascination for us. Despite our best efforts, it’s still difficult not to stare awkwardly at those who live beyond the “norm” of society, those that don’t match our cultural and social expectations, or those who merely look different from us. Often we resort to insulting terms such as “weirdos”, “creeps”, or “freaks” to describe these people whom we fail to understand. But perhaps the greatest reason that we have this love/hate relationship with them is because they remind us of ourselves.
Perhaps there is no greater example within contemporary culture of our dualistic reaction to the social outsider than the 1932 Tod Browning horror-melodrama Freaks. The film, which has become beloved by some and reviled by others, is considered one of the first true cult classics and even today it still manages to pack a punch. The story is a deceptively simple tale about the companionship of a small group of sideshow performers and what happens when their inner circle is threatened by “normal” folk – the other great outsider. One of the aspects of the film that created such an outrage and controversy when it was initially released was the fact that unlike almost any other film of its day, director Browning chose to use real life human anomalies to portray the characters of the story.
Today, this makes the film an interesting contradiction in that it is at once both an exploitation film and an empathetic look at the lives of those who are rejected by the mainstream culture. However, ironically the film which served as a cautionary tale about judging one based upon appearances was almost unanimously panned by critics who had no desire to see “living monstrosities projected on the screen”. During later years as viewers re-examined this flawed masterpiece of vintage shock cinema, they were struck by the seeming contradiction of a film that exploits the subjects that it attempts to advocate. In spite of this controversy and indeed partially because of it, the film has endured for 80 years now and is regarded as a classic of horror cinema.
Director Tod Browning and a few members of his beloved consortium of freaks. This promotional photo was taken on the set of the 1932 film, which would gain notoriety among filmmakers and critics, as well as shine a light (a somewhat unflattering one) on what goes on behind the scenes at the circus sideshow.
Yet the real stories of the sideshow freaks and the characters that populated the world of the carnevale spectacular are perhaps just as unbelievable and shocking as those of their fictional counterparts in Browning’s Freaks. These “freaks” and others have been resurrected via the skilled hand of modern symbolist painter Gail Potocki in a series of paintings that must be seen to be believed. So, if you dare read on, and you must, I shall share with you a glimpse into a world of grotesqueries, oddities, and anomalies that once scandalized the general public and left the faces of outsiders forever emblazoned in the minds of the world.
As one might imagine, I have always been a bit obsessed with the seedy underworld of the circus and sideshow spectacles. I am not alone in this regard. Many filmmakers, artists, musicians, and writers have used the world of vaudeville, cabarets, and carnivals to find inspiration. Amongst these creative geniuses are Tod Browning, Terry Gilliam, David Lynch, Tim Burton, Neil Gaiman, Dave McKean, Amanda Palmer, and of course, Gail Potocki. I was curious as to whether the allure that this kind of performance and lifestyle had for me was also the same as felt by Gail. We discussed the matter at length and found certain similar themes, and emotional as well as social resonances, that seemed to be common.
Gail was a single child and grew up with her mother in Detroit. Describing herself as introverted and creative, Gail felt a kinship to so-called outsiders as her love of nature and her strong independent streak seemed at odds with the industrial city and the relatively conservative values of many of the inhabitants there. Developing a reputation amongst her family and peers as “the black sheep” or “the artsy one“, Gail had interests and enthusiasms which also set her apart from those around her. “I always had a bit of a morbid curiosity about things and was attracted to the odd and unusual,” she says.
Her series of paintings created in 2009, aptly titled “Freaks”, is a serious and at times disarming look at the different individuals who in the past plied their trade in the world of circus sideshows. Like all of her works, these paintings are created in her trademark Symbolist style and possess a powerful level of humanism and emotion. However, they also stand out from the paintings she has created in the past as each of the subjects in these works has been deceased for quite some time. Using photographs, poster illustrations, and film footage for research, Gail set out to capture the essence of each figure. This was a particular challenge as most of the photographs are old, grainy, damaged, and naturally in black and white. Every detail from skin tone to eye color had to feel authentic, so what the photographs failed to offer in detail had to be compensated for, thus Gail was given the unique opportunity to embellish upon or to imbue some of her own ideas into the paintings. The result is an extraordinary example of how a masterful artist can evoke personality and intimate characteristics in their work.
“Pip” – Jenny Lee Snow (Gail Potocki, 2009). “Pip” is a perfect example of Gail’s ability to articulate a personality and emotions with imagery.
“I had to project my own feelings that I experienced while I look at them,” Gail said of the diverse group of characters. “Pip (Jenny Lee Snow) was a microcephalic with the IQ of an infant, but when I looked at her she had this proud and intelligent expression on her face. I wanted to show her dressed in a romantic vintage costume that made her look regal and feminine. I added some fraying to the fabric to symbolize her true fragility.“
Jenny Lee Snow (a.k.a. ‘Pip’) and Elvira Snow (a.k.a. ‘Flip’) in a photograph taken on the set of “Freaks” circa 1932. Sometimes billed as “The Snow Twins” or as “Zip and Pip”, Jenny Lee and Elvira Snow were siblings born with microcephaly, a neuro-developmental disorder characterized by a small skull and brain, especially the frontal lobe, and generally were mentally retarded though not always. The Snow sisters, who came from Georgia, were among the many “pinheads” (a derogatory term used for microcephalics) that performed in the circus.
“Flip” – Elvira Snow (Gail Potocki, 2009). Gail takes inspiration from “Whistler’s Mother” for this composition, but adds a subtle and delightfully anarchic touch in the background.
“Flip (Elvira Snow) had such an odd profile that I really wanted to capture. I immediately thought of the painting Whistler did of his mother and used this as my inspiration. Of course, I added the doll in her hand, the chalk scrawling on the wall, and the burning circus tent in the distance. It was fun for me to create this possible scenario that she had caused some chaos back in the circus and was now contemplating the deed.“
James Abbott McNeill Whistler’s iconic 1871 painting “Arrangement in Grey and Black, No. 1”, commonly known as “Whistler’s Mother”, served as inspiration for the composition of the above painting.
In some of the other paintings in the series, Gail took artistic license with the roles of the performers in the circus and created poetic visual motifs acknowledging their unusual appearance or traits. “Annie Jones, the bearded lady, was a bit of a pun. She’s holding bearded irises and is surrounded by hairless cats. ‘Jo-Jo‘ seemed so otherworldly yet classical in his ornate jacket. I looked to Albrecht Dürer‘s self-portrait for this one and added the toy dog on wheels because there was a child-like look to ‘Jo-Jo’. I also added the night sky with the ‘dog star’.“
“Annie Jones the Bearded Lady” (Gail Potocki, 2009). Here Gail creates a somewhat melancholic and somewhat playful portrait of a bearded lady.
“Jo-Jo, the Dog-Faced Boy” – Fedor Jeftichew (Gail Potocki, 2009). In this haunting painting, Gail conjures up feelings of lost innocence and nostalgia, almost giving Fedor Jeftichew the normal childhood he never had.
Fedor Jeftichew (a.k.a. Jo-Jo the Dog-Faced Boy) had a rare condition known as hypertrichosis which he inherited from his father. Jeftichew toured with traveling circuses throughout France along with his father until his father’s death. At age sixteen he came to America where he became a prominent “freak” with P.T. Barnum’s show. There he was denigrated to sitting and barking as a dog would at Barnum’s request.
Albrecht Dürer’s famous 1500 self-portrait which Gail derived some inspiration from for her painting of ‘Jo-Jo’.
Surprisingly, Gail was one of the few children who, growing up, did not want to to run away and join the circus and she rarely went. However, she did have vivid memories of going to the Michigan State Fairgrounds during the fair season and seeing sideshow attractions. “When I was a kid, there were still freak shows with barkers enticing spectators to come inside for a view,” she recalls. “Many of them were fakes, of course, but at that age it still made an impact.”
During the first thirty years of the twentieth century, especially in America, circuses and carnivals were very popular forms of escapist entertainment. There have been attempts by numerous cultural critics and historians to identify exactly why these kinds of attractions and performances were so prolific during this period. Interestingly, it is also during this same time that horror movies, especially in the twenties and thirties, began to rise to prominence as a distinct film genre.
One author and cultural historian, David J. Skal (who wrote the biography Dark Carnival: The Secret World of Tod Browning), has suggested that at the time popular culture was fascinated with “the other” and the “outsider”. In particular, he theorized that one of the reasons that so many people were morbidly obsessed with physical deformities and outsiders was due to the advances in medical science which allowed for many wounded and disfigured war veterans to survive, particularly those who saw the trench warfare of WWI. So, in a way, the voyeuristic appeal to sideshows could be explained as a dualistic impulse triggered in part by guilt over being normal as well as a kind of perverse satisfaction in seeing the afflictions of others. Yet, the fascination goes much deeper than that. Many of the films of director Tod Browning dealt with misanthropic antiheroes who suffered from some physical malady, often to be rivaled by an even greater psychological one, which prevented them from experiencing love on a physical level. These films were often one-part romantic tragedy and two-parts revenge melodrama. Perhaps, at its core, we crave this kind of entertainment because we identify with the feeling of being rejected. Maybe we even wish to be “freaks”; to be simultaneously individuals and part of a community, to be unique and still accepted, to live in the comfort of routine and still possess spontaneity. These are the things that circus sideshows provide.
There certainly was a complicated dichotomy since many of the performers in the circus couldn’t find work elsewhere in so-called respectable bourgeois society, yet almost by a cruel ironic twist, many members of that same respectable bourgeois society protested the circus sideshows because they felt that they were exploitative and grotesque. Hence, the freaks really had nowhere else to go in terms of employment or finding acceptance. For many, the circus was not only their home and their job, but also their shelter from the “normal world” that ostracized them. What’s more, when looking at these performers, one can’t help but feel an affinity for them and to look beyond their superficial differences to see the true beauty within. After all, what is normal? What is beautiful? I think Gail’s painting of the Siamese twins says it all.
“Daisy and Violet Hilton” (Gail Potocki, 2009). Born in 1908, Daisy and Violet Hilton grew up in show business. Their condition of being conjoined twins, connected at the hips, was capitalized upon and the twins were essentially purchased from their mother and went into the world of carnivals, sideshows, vaudeville, and films. They fought for and successfully won their legal independence and became stars. Perhaps the most publicized and well documented figures in Gail’s “Freaks” series, the Hilton sisters may seem to be less of an enigma at first. Upon closer inspection, they offer perhaps the greatest enigma of all: What separates me from you?
In the final view, Gail’s Freaks paintings are much like their subjects. Individually, they are intriguing and full of complexity, beauty, and each has a story to tell. Collectively, they form a spectacle that is unforgettable.
Deep down, I think we all have an attraction to the strange and unusual. Some people don’t want to admit it and others will just as soon look away in disgust or horror, but in actuality, for a number of reasons, those that we regard as different or as strange and unusual hold a fascination for us. Despite our best efforts, it’s still difficult not to stare awkwardly at those who live beyond the “norm” of society, those that don’t match our cultural and social expectations, or those who merely look different from us. Often we resort to insulting terms such as “weirdos”, “creeps”, or “freaks” to describe these people whom we fail to understand. But perhaps the greatest reason that we have this love/hate relationship with them is because they remind us of ourselves.
Perhaps there is no greater example within contemporary culture of our dualistic reaction to the…
It’s hard to describe the works of Salvador Dalí. He is an iconoclastic and controversial figure in the art world. Yet he’s much more than that. Dalí’s work holds a number of influences and inspirations that set him apart from other artists and make his works almost impossible to categorize. At first glance, he appears to be a surrealist, a modernist, a cubist, and a dadaist. But his paintings, collages, and bizarre three-dimensional works of art also owe much to classical and Renaissance masterpieces. Many critics and art lovers have dismissed Dalí because he was either too eccentric, too commercial, or because they simply failed to understand the pure talent and genius of his creations. On a personal level, I’ve always been attracted to these images, because they seem to have been born in dreams and were then expressed in a way that we could all experience them as vividly as Dalí himself.
“The Persistence of Memory” (1931)
“Raphaelesque Head Exploding” (1951)
“Apparition of Face and Fruit Dish on a Beach” (1938)
“The Metamorphosis of Narcissus” (1937)
“The Enigma of Desire” (1929)
“The Dream” (1931)
“The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory” (1952-1954)
“Cubist Self-Portrait” (1923)
“The Ants” (1929)
“Figure at the Window” (1925)
“The Visage of War” (1940)
“The Persistence of Memory” (1931)
“Raphaelesque Head Exploding” (1951)
” Apparition of Face and Fruit Dish on a Beach” (1938)
“The Metamorphosis of Narcissus” (1937)
“The Enigma of Desire” (1929)
“The Dream” (1931)
“The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory” (1952-1954)
As a genre that spans multiple mediums, fantasy has been able to introduce people to new worlds, new concepts, and encounters that only the imagination could provide. Within the art world, very few fantasy artists have ever been given the credit that they deserve for their artistic work. Aesthetically, fantasy in art is usually comprised of scenes of scantily clad barbarian men and women battling with supernatural forces, though there are other kinds of fantasy art. However, when it comes to “pulp fantasy”, as I often refer to it, no artist has ever had the kind of cultural impact and influence that Frank Frazetta has. His works have pushed the envelope in ways that are almost indescribable. The men he draws are muscle-bound and rippling with testosterone; the women are voluptuous sensual creatures who can barely stand due to their feminine endowments; the monsters are as grotesque and as savage could be.
“Conan the Adventurer” (1965)
“Birdman” (1972)
“Cat Girl” (1984)
“Conan the Barbarian” (1966)
“Vampirella” (1969)
“Egyptian Queen” (1969)
“The Death Dealer” (1973)
“Conan the Usurper” (1967)
“The Tempest Witch”, also known as “The Sea-Witch” (1967)
“Vampirella” (1996)
“Conan the Destroyer” (1971)
“The Silver Warrior” (1972)
“Witch” (1981)
“Conan the Conqueror” (1967)
“Conan the Adventurer” (1965)
“Birdman” (1972)
“Cat Girl” (1984)
“Conan the Barbarian” (1966)
“Vampirella” (1969)
“Egyptian Queen” (1969)
“The Death Dealer” (1973)
“Conan the Usurper” (1967)
“The Tempest Witch”, also known as “The Sea-Witch” (1967)
I’ve been a great admirer of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and their artistic style for a very long time now. Of all the artists associated with the movement, I think that John William Waterhouse is probably my favorite. This is partly because Waterhouse was consistently brilliant in his creation of evocative scenes inspired by mythology, historical legend, and classic literature. However, while this aspect of his art appeals to me on an intellectual level, I find myself also drawn in by the delicate sense of bittersweet romance and unrequited love on an emotional level. Waterhouse created images of women who were more than mortal women. They are beautiful, seductive, and melancholy representations of our collective longings manifested on the canvas of a master. Waterhouse was one of the last Pre-Raphaelite artists and yet his work overshadows many of the lesser known artists of the movement who came before him.
Originally written and published for Century Guild’s blog on January 17, 2012.
“The Griffon” (Ink on paper, 2009) is but one example of Jeremy A. Bastian’s love of the mythical and necessity for detail.
Unless you’re a diehard comic book enthusiast or an avid student of art history, it might at first be difficult to imagine what comics and fine art really have in common. Comics tend to be denigrated as merely pop culture kitsch or kids’ stuff. And with all of the superheroes in colorful costumes, the Saturday morning cartoons, and the whole hub of merchandising aimed at children and adolescents, it’s not hard to see why someone might arrive at such a conclusion. On the other hand, fine art has been elevated to the pinnacle of creative innovation and self-expression for most cultures around the globe.
Another example of Bastian’s detailed and whimsical take on classic mythical creatures: “The Manticore” (Ink on paper, 2009).
If you ask any true comic book fan if there’s more to the medium in terms of artistic or literary merits, they will promptly and adamantly attempt to persuade you of the cultural and social significance of comics. Similarly, not all comic fans may have an appreciation or understanding on the finer points of classical art much to the chagrin of art critics. Yet, there is a strong correlation between the two, though neither group of enthusiasts will necessarily admit to it. So, how does one bridge antiquity with modernity, the past with the present, and unite two groups of people who may have more in common than either recognize? The answer is simple: Jeremy A. Bastian.
Jeremy Bastian isn’t your typical artist by any means. Not only is he the creator, writer, and illustrator of the increasingly popular indie comic Cursed Pirate Girl, he’s also an extraordinarily talented and dedicated artist outside of the medium. What makes his work so special is that Jeremy’s influences are multi-generational. They span not only different eras of art, but different genres and mediums as well. His work is distinct not only its style and aesthetic which is informed by the classic illustrators of the 19th and 20th centuries, but also by such diverse sources as medieval, Renaissance, and comic book artists. While many comic book artists look to other comic book artists for inspiration, Jeremy acknowledges a wider range of artistic inspiration than many and derives that inspiration from varied material. Looking over his art, one can see traces of classic illustrators like Richard Dadd, John Tenniel, Gustave Doré, and Arthur Rackham, but also strong elements found in certain medieval artists’ work, such as Martin Schongauer and Hieronymus Bosch.
“Griffin” by Martin Schongauer.
A detail of Bastian’s “The Griffon” shows just how much effort goes into a single artwork. This piece, measuring less than an 8.5 x 11″ sheet of paper, was created using his signature technique of fine lines of ink laid down using single-haired brushes. Gustave Doré would approve!
“The Jabberwock” by John Tenniel, from “Through the Looking-Glass”, foreshadows Jeremy’s combination of childlike whimsy and grotesque fantasy creatures.
But Jeremy’s work is so much more than just the sum of its parts or the accumulative result of work by earlier artists. His own unique sensibilities and personality shine through. His skillful hand rivals and even surpasses those of many of his predecessors and contemporaries.
Jeremy was kind enough to take time out and sit down to do an interview with me over the phone. I thought it might be interesting for others to learn a bit about Jeremy and to (re-)introduce them to him and his artwork. Here’s part of that interview:
Sean:
How did you meet Thomas [Negovan] and become involved with Century Guild and Olympian Publishing?
Jeremy: At the time I had been trying to self-publish Cursed Pirate Girl. I had showed it to a friend of mine, Douglas Klauba, and he showed it to his friend Tom. He had said, “I have to get a hold of this guy,” and it wasn’t until a Wizard World show that we met. He had said, “You know I’ve been trying to email you… I’ve been publishing a couple of books and I’d really like to publish yours”.
At that time I had already signed with Archaia because I was first going to do the books through Archaia, but it was going to be in color since they had only published color books at that time. They wanted to see it in color, but I really wanted it as a black and white book; that’s how I saw it. I had even started to color it. I had colored Issues #1 and #2, but then they had some slight problems within the company [Archaia was bought by Kunoichi in 2008], and by that time I had been talking with Tom a lot more. He had come over and visited where we were living in Michigan and bought a bunch of my original art.
Basically, so I could cut back on my hours at my part-time job and concentrate more on working on the book and getting more artwork done, when Archaia was having their internal problems, Mark Smylie from Archaia said, “If you want to shop your book around to other publishers, feel free to. I’m really sorry that all this is happening.” Then Tom just made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse. He really saw it as a black and white book and he got what it was all about – the sense and style and aesthetic – and that’s how I first started out with my books coming out from Olympian.
Jeremy A. Bastian’s colossally epic and extraordinarily detailed masterpiece, “The Sacking of the Royal City of Cub” (Ink on paper, 2011), made exclusively for the patrons of his unprecedented Kickstarter campaign. This monumental piece was created over the course of three months and features a plethora of eccentric characters from the “Cursed Pirate Girl” universe. Looking over this, one might require the aid of a magnifying glass, or even a microscope, to appreciate the level of detail in the intricacies of the line work. Even the smallest portions are full of narrative imagery and characters. No detail is arbitrary!
Sean:
What made you realize you wanted to pursue a career as an artist?
Jeremy: Well, I knew that I had wanted to do that since I was like six, you know. It was really the only thing I could do. I didn’t have too many friends in school and whatnot, so drawing was the one thing that I did that got me a little bit of attention and made me feel like I had a purpose. I had a cousin who was into comics and was into Uncanny X-Men and she knew all about stuff like that. So, she really introduced me to comics and she even had her own little self-published comic she was working on, and I just thought that was amazing! I was like, “Oh, wow!” So, when she would babysit me and my brother, she’d show us issues. She was copying the style of Marc Silvestri like perfectly, so I started to do that and began to build up [knowledge] of anatomy and all that, and just knew that was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
Sean:
Who would you cite as being some of your greatest inspirations or influences in terms of developing your own unique aesthetic and style?
Jeremy: It has been a long journey as far as that goes. My favorite comic book artist is Mike Mignola and I didn’t get into Mike’s work until pretty late into Hellboy. I think he had three or four graphic novels of Hellboy out and lots of people were talking about him, so I decided to check it out. Once I picked up one, I immediately had to go back and pick up more and as the others came out I bought those. It was almost like an addiction and I just had to get more because it was the first time I had seen something in comics that I really considered artwork. I love comic book art, and Jim Lee and Arthur Adams and those guys, and that was comic book storytelling art. But then when I started reading Hellboy; it was just ‘wow.’ He put so much into it and there’s so much atmosphere and it’s so iconic. Very graphic.
I went to school for graphic design in Pittsburgh , but I wanted to do comics. They showed me a couple of samples for comic book pages and some of the work for their graphic design course, and that’s how I decided to go there. I kind of tried to ink in Mike’s style for a while, and I tried to ink like Arthur Adams as well, but it wasn’t until I was working in an art store in Ypsilanti, where I grew up, that I really started getting into Arthur Rackham, Gustave Doré, and Albrecht Dürer. They had all these reference books that they were in and their stuff was just amazing. It’s sort of where Cursed Pirate Girl comes from now, being mainly influenced from old etchings and wood-cut blocks.
Jeremy cites Gustave Doré as one of his influences. One can see the same incredible attention to detail in Doré’s illustration, such as this one entitled “The Empyrean” from Dante’s “Paradiso”. Like Doré, Jeremy is intent upon creating the most intricate line work and he is easily as methodical… perhaps more so.
Sean: Are you also a fan of Harry Clarke?
Jeremy: Oh, yeah. I recently discovered him. There are a lot of artists and illustrators that I was very bummed that I hadn’t heard about them earlier when I was going to school. I took an illustration cert track and they never covered a lot of these guys like Franklin Booth, Harry Clarke, Walter Crane, and H.J. Ford. There’s just a whole bunch of artists that I’ve come across, and then discovered other artists through following other artists’ work and from getting children’s books and anthology books with illustrations from different artists. Some of my more contemporary influences are children’s book illustrators like Gennady Spirin, Olga Dugina, and Andrej Dugin, or Kinuko Craft. They’re these great illustrators that have a kind of old-time feel to them. And there are other artists that I really like, like Vania Zouravliov and Aaron Horkey. I actually had the great fortune to meet Aaron Horkey at the San Diego Comic-Con this past year and it was great talking to him and gushing over his work. He’s another really nice gentleman… does wonderful line art.
(Detail from Jeremy A. Bastian’s “The Last Witch’s Head at the Wall of Man’s Demise”) It’s in the strange characters such as these that you can see similarities with Bosch and his bizarre denizens of Hell.
Jeremy A. Bastian’s macabre masterpiece for the “Grand Guignol II – HÄXAN” show, “The Last Witch’s Head at the Wall of Man’s Demise” (Ink on paper, 2011). While some artists are content to spend a weekend on a particular painting or drawing, Jeremy thrives on pushing himself to create the most elaborate and intricate work. Sometimes this means that he will spend months on creating a single piece, but the result is, as you can see, breathtaking.
Sean: For Century Guild’s exhibition, Grand Guignol II: HÄXAN– Satan + The Women Who Love Him, you created an elaborately detailed piece entitled “The Last Witch’s Head at the Wall of Man’s Demise”. Could you walk me through the process of how you came up with the idea for this piece and how you created it?
Jeremy: I did a small pencil illustration of a vulture-like creature with a skull for a head and blades hanging from his wings a long time ago and Tom really liked that. He told me I should do a whole vulture piece. He wanted me to do that. I decided to do a full-size vulture piece and this was right after the poster I did as an added extra for Kickstarter. In that I had done a lot of rock work or stone work, so I really liked the idea of doing a weird wall with skulls and moss crawling up it. So, for three months it was me sort of channeling my inner Bosch as far as the foreground characters go. I just wanted to make it bizarre… and keep it in line with previous work I had done.
(Detail from Jeremy A. Bastian’s “The Last Witch’s Head at the Wall of Man’s Demise”) Crowned with the ribcage of some unfortunate soul, the Bird of Death stares out of empty eye sockets casting a menacing gaze over the goings on below.
Sean:
Now, your work is incredibly detailed, both in regards to your intricate line work as well as to the multitude of characters and visual motifs that you use, so how long does it take you to complete a piece on average?
Jeremy: Well, it has changed since when I first started. I think I was much quicker, but I can’t remember exactly how quickly it was. I do know that now it takes about a week per page. I got more obsessed with just how much detail I can put into things. I think for book one, I was using a size zero brush and now I’m working with a double zero brush, so I use a much smaller brush sometimes. For me, it’s a personal challenge to see how much I can put into something and try to outdo the last page I did and to have an evolutionary process. That’s why I’m afraid sometimes that I’ll never get it done. I know that I will get it done, but it will take a long time, and I hope that many of my fans will decide to stick in there because they want to see it in print.
(Detail from Jeremy A. Bastian’s “The Last Witch’s Head at the Wall of Man’s Demise”) Surrounded by miscreants of innumerable varieties and clutched in the hands of a cloven goblin: The Last Witch’s Head!
Sean: How would you describe your overall experience with Century Guild?
Jeremy: I love everybody at Century Guild. I think that Tom really believes in the artwork, in the character [of Cursed Pirate Girl], and in me as an artist. He’s more into the art world, so he knows how long it can take, and that it’s hard to make a living at what you do when it’s a slow process, especially in the comic book world. So, he helped to get me into the gallery.
Part of my goal as a little kid was to be an artist, and I thought that being a comic book artist was probably the easiest way to do that, to draw for a living. It seemed to me, that to be a “gallery artist” there was more chance [being riskier than commercial art in the comic book field] to that. You just have to know the right people and no matter what degree of talent you have, you can still slip through. And with a comic book job it seemed like you could actually make a living. So, they’ve been great… I’ve been really lucky.
“The Griffon” (Ink on paper, 2009) is but one example of Jeremy A. Bastian’s love of the mythical and necessity for detail.
Unless you’re a diehard comic book enthusiast or an avid student of art history, it might at first be difficult to imagine what comics and fine art really have in common. Comics tend to be denigrated as merely pop culture kitsch or kids’ stuff. And with all of the superheroes in colorful costumes, the Saturday morning cartoons, and the whole hub of merchandising aimed at children and adolescents, it’s not hard to see why someone might arrive at such a conclusion. On the other hand, fine art has been elevated to the pinnacle of creative innovation and self-expression for most cultures around the globe.
Another example of Bastian’s detailed and whimsical take on classic mythical creatures: “The Manticore” (Ink on paper, 2009).
Edvard Munch has long been one of my favorite artists in Modern Art. His Symbolist and Proto-Expressionist works have a deeply personal connection with me. Somehow, they reach into my psyche, wrenching my emotions and thoughts from within and allow them to materialize in paint. Munch’s art worked on two psychological levels at once, both conjuring up primitive emotions from our personal past while at the same time juxtaposing it with his knowledge of archetypal characters from our collective past. I love the way his artwork, much like Franz Kafka‘s writings, tap into those deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy, guilt, regret, lust, and utter despair. Utilizing bold brush strokes and vibrant colors and contrasting them with ambiguous shadows, Munch’s imagery carries with it all the complex emotions and mysteries of the human experience.
“The Scream” (1893)
“Puberty” (1894-1895)
“Vampire”, also known as “Love and Pain” (1893-1894)
“Madonna” (1894-1895)
“The Three Stages of Woman” (circa 1894)
“The Sick Child” (1896)
“Self Portrait with a Skeleton Arm” (1895)
“Self-Portrait with a Cigarette” (1895)
“Evening on Karl Johan Street” (1892)
“The Sun” (1909-1916)
“Lady from the Sea” (1896)
“Death in the Sick Room” (1895)
“The Scream” (1893)
“Puberty” (1894-1895)
“Vampire”, also known as “Love and Pain” (1893-1894)
This list is dedicated to fellow sci-fi, fantasy, and classic special effects enthusiast Karen (QUEENBFLIX). I hope this will give her her Harryhausen nostalgia fix.
Ray Harryhausen’s original concept art for the climactic battle in “Jason and the Argonauts”, which sees Jason and his fellow adventurers battling skeleton warriors.
When I think back on the history of special effects in films, there are a select number of people who immediately spring to mind for their resourcefulness, their innovation, their creativity, and their audacity to go beyond the boundaries of what has been done before without knowing whether their efforts will end in success or failure. It requires a great deal of imagination and patience to create scenes of fantasy and spectacle that are realistic enough to enable viewers to suspend their disbelief while at the same time providing them with a uniquely heightened quality that reminds them of the wonders of the motion picture medium. Of the many great special effects artists that have risen in prominence, it’s hard to imagine anyone as celebrated and inspiring as Ray Harryhausen.
It’s rare for a person who works behind the camera to receive the same kind of acclaim and kudos of those who are thrust into the spotlight. Additionally, it’s not often that a special effects creator is even more revered than the directors, writers, and actors with whom he has collaborated. Yet Ray Harryhausen has achieved this kind of fame through his technical wizardry and his generosity in giving moviegoers what they crave: adventure.
Harryhausen and one of his most iconic and celebrated creations, the reanimated skeleton warrior.
With this list I hope to showcase Harryhausen’s extraordinary talent and his miraculous manipulation of models, puppets, and stop-motion animation to create vividly realized scenes of the fantastic.
Previously published on Blogger.com on March 30, 2011.
Is there nothing more intolerable than the intolerance of dogmatic ideologies, which fail to acknowledge ambiguity or the full spectrum of complexity within the human conscience, or the collective components of a fully functioning reality? We have adopted an egotistic, insular view of sentient life that places us, humans, as the elite life form. And then the masses wonder why there is such conflict and why we fail to progress.
Our dilemma rises not from the battle between dualistic thinking, but from the false belief that there are merely dualities to which we are aligned. There is no black nor white, no liberal nor conservative, no rich nor poor reality. If humanity was capable of transcending the ego and the need for self-gratification and self worth, then we would see that truth is a universal flow, and it is the emotional taint of the individualist and the conformist alike that is responsible for the cessation of our evolution, as our technologies grow in their conception while we regress on a spiritual and intellectual level. The failure of the self comes not from its own imperfections, but from the ability to criticize the imperfections of others without constructive cause, to praise the self without constructive need, and from the inability to restrain all critical thought until real observation (not the temporary observation of the media-drunk society that we have established in our modern Babylon, but the serene observation that exists outside of the self) can occur.
We must think laterally to evolve, to move beyond our somnambulist and stagnant repose, to transcend the disharmonious state that we have resided in since we evolved from a single-celled organism into our current bio-molecular composition. We are not separate as we think, nor are we identical as we fear, nor are we obsolete or significant as has been suggested. We are not cogs within a machine, nor are we machines unto ourselves, but rather we are the encompassing aura that exists both outside and within the physical mechanics that we call reality. We are solid, and fluid, an expansive nebulis of energy, constantly metamorphosing from one form to another — all the while falsely asserting to ourselves that we can be static, consistent, stubborn, and unwavering.
We cannot continue to labour under the misapprehension that we move in a linear progression, either vertically or horizontally, or that we move in endless circles until we reach our finale back where we began. We exist in a universe where creation and destruction exist within a spiral pattern, wherein we move upward and outward from the point of our origin, as matter until we transition to our state as energy; a process which is eternal.
There is no straight line from beginning to end, because there is no beginning and there is no end.
Here is a poem I wrote on this subject after a long period of meditation. My hope was to communicate the importance of adopting multiple perspectives and establishing a capacity to consciously accept that all life within the universe is symbiotic, connected, and yet simultaneously unique and individual. Another element was my desire to express that by putting aside the singular perspective, which forms itself through experience and preconception, and by reaching for a higher understanding of psychology, one could become capable of a fully formed comprehension of the sentient minds of all races and species.
A Matter of Perception
I can choose to be You or me I can choose to see The world from all perspectives Adjusting my vision To account for all possibilities Seeing every combination Working out the patterns Dissecting preconceptions Accepting universal truths That the will and fate are connected And consciousness shapes our reality Just as reality defines our perception
So, rise above your singular perceptions So, rise above your singular emotions Break through the boundaries Reconnect to that cosmic unity From whence we all came into this life Before we fell into discordance, ignorance, and strife
Drink deep from the endless waters That wash upon that most distant shore Breathe deep that air which has been Circulating through all life since the first life was born Now, bleed and become one with the cycle The spiral of life, as it elevates us to another phase Of evolution, bringing us closer together Until our fates are all the same
I can choose to be You or me I can choose to see The world from many perspectives Since that moment when I fell in love When I stared down death I’ve been rising above my own self Serving as conduit for energies Those timeless and limitless powers That brought me up from the depths Of my singular, lowly self-deception But now I perceive the illusion And break through the locked doors of perception
Previously published on Blogger.com on March 10, 2011. Updated and revised for WordPress on November 10, 2012.
Love.
It’s a subject that has been at the forefront of human existence for longer than we can remember, filling the pages of our history, etching its name in our poetry and songs and stories. It has been the catalyst for great romances which have become legend, it has been the driving force behind great conflicts that have stained the earth with blood, and it has proven to be one of the most complex occurrences within human nature. We use the word “love” with frequency, describing everything from our preference for certain foods to our fondness for a particular author, musician, actor, director, or artist.
Yet what is love?
It’s been categorized in many ways; discussed endlessly by poets who often idealize or romanticize love even when tragic, dissected by scientists who have struggled to determine what part of our bodies is responsible for the impulses we associate with love, and examined by all those who have experienced it and yearned for by all those who have not. It seems almost impossible to place a definition on something as transcendent and amorphous as love. There are those who perceive love to be simply an emotion, a chemical reaction in the brain to an external stimuli in the form of another person, but this cannot be since, in my own experience anyway, all emotions are momentary and pass with time yet love remains as a constant presence. Certainly, love can influence a person’s emotional state dramatically and there are those who say that love makes us blind and act foolishly. Contrarily, many people believe that love elevates our consciousness, lifting us from our own selfish egotism, and allows us to experience empathy and affection in a manner that evolves our sense of reality, thus it transcends beyond any mere emotion. In my personal experience, I have found that the latter is true. Continue Reading
This list of my favorite Romantic poets and poetry was first posted on November 10, 2010 on Lunch.com
I’ve always adored the melancholic romanticism of the 18th and 19th Century poets with their dichotomies of idyllic love blossoming and then unfolding to harrowing outcomes. The themes of life, death, love, loneliness, hope, despair, degradation, and redemption are so intricately woven throughout romanticism that it makes it nigh impossible not to relate to the poems and artwork of that movement. The emotional potency, often melodramatic but almost always genuine, that is invoked by their words is both haunting and enigmatic. Somehow their innate ability to express the highs and lows of love, whether it is unrequited, returned albeit briefly, tragic, or treacherous, seems to resonate with the clarity of truth. So, without further ado, I present a sampling of my favorite poems of the Romantics…
Voce Deorum
Hear the Voice by William Blake
Hear the voice of the Bard, Who present, past, and future sees; Whose ears have heard The Holy Word That walk’d among the ancient trees;
Calling the lapsèd soul, And weeping in the evening dew, That might control The starry pole, And fallen, fallen light renew!
‘O Earth, ‘O Earth, return! Arise from the dewy grass! Night is worn, And the morn Rises from the slumbrous mass.
‘Turn away no more; Why wilt thou turn away? The starry floor, The watery shore, Is given thee till the break of day.’
Venere del Nuovo Mondo
She Walks in Beauty by Lord George Gordon Byron
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow’d to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair’d the nameless grace Which waves in every raven trees, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!
Luna
To Night by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Swiftly walk o’er the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and clear, Swift by thy Flight!
Wrap thy form in mantle gray, Star-inwrought! Blind with thine hair the eyes of day; Kiss her until she be wearied out, Then wander o’er the city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand − Come, long-sought!
When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee; When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest, Lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee.
La Belle Cimetière
Bright Star by John Keats
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art −
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priest-like task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors:
No, − yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillowed upon my fair love’s ripening breast
To feel forever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest;
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever − or else swoon to death.
Der Rabe
The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore − While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “‘Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door − Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; − vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow − sorrow for the lost Lenore − For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore − Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me − filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating “‘Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door − Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door; − This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure i heard you” − here I opened wide the door; − Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long stood I there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there was spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!” Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore; − Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; − ‘Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door − Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door − Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, though,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore − Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning − little relevance bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door − Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such a name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered– not a feather then he fluttered − Till I scarcely more than muttered, “Other friends have flown before − On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs burden bore − Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of ‘Never − nevermore.'”
But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore − What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee − by these angels he hath sent thee Respite − respite and nepenthe from my memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! − prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted − On this home by Horror haunted − tell me truly, I implore − Is there balm in Gilead? − tell me − tell me, I implore!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! − prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us − by that God we both adore − Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore − Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting − “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie they soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! − quit the bust above my door! Take they beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted − nevermore!
Herbstlicher Teppich
Fall, Leaves, Fall by Emily Brontë
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me,
Fluttering from every tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow;
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
Originally posted on Lunch.com on October 31, 2010.
Having written some of the most important and influential science fiction, fantasy, and horror novels of the past century, Richard Matheson has become a revered figure in the world of genre entertainment. Matheson first experienced success in the 1950s when his early fantasy and science fiction short stories were published in magazines. His first novels were Someone Is Bleeding (1953), I Am Legend (1954) and The Shrinking Man (1956). Matheson became a household name for genre geeks in the late ’50s and ’60s when he scripted a number of classic screenplays and teleplays. In 1957, The Shrinking Man was adapted into The Incredible Shrinking Man, which is now regarded as a sci-fi film classic. He also adapted one of his own short stories, Nightmare at 20,000 Feet, into a teleplay for what may be the most famous episode of The Twilight Zone. In 1964, his science fiction vampire novel I Am Legend was adapted into a horror film starring Vincent Price. The release of this film would not only have a great impact on the way vampires, as well as zombies, would be depicted in the future, but also became the basis for a whole slew of similar films.
I Am Legend (1954) In 1954, author Richard Matheson saw his science fiction/horror story I Am Legend published. The novel would be revolutionary in the way that it took existing vampire mythology and updated it with a scientific explanation.
“I Am Legend” by Richard Matheson
Matheson created a suspenseful and psychologically driven story in which a scientist, Robert Neville, must cope with the horrific aftermath of a pandemic that has caused the human population to turn into vampiric beings. Neville must also deal with his own haunted memories of watching his family, friends, and coworkers die of the disease. One of the unique elements of the story is the way that Matheson takes elements of vampirism and robs them of their supernatural quality, which he then replaces with pseudo-scientific origins. It turns out that the vampiric disease is spread by a bacteria. Matheson also explains why vampires are repelled by garlic, mirrors, and their weakness to sunlight. He also allows for the vampires to evolve and create a social structure to replace humanity. Though I Am Legend was received with mixed criticism upon its publication, it has since become regarded as a modern classic and an essential work of vampire fiction.
The Last Man on Earth (1964)
Vincent Price as Robert Morgan in “The Last Man on Earth” (1964) directed by Sidney Salkow & Ubaldo Ragona
The first adaptation of Matheson’s novel was originally going to be produced by the legendary Hammer Films. Having been harshly criticized and threatened with government censorship after their 1957 film The Curse of Frankenstein and their 1958 film Horror of Dracula, it was decided that the story would be an obvious lightning rod for controversy. Hammer Films ultimately passed on the script, which was written by Matheson himself. Eventually, the script made its way through a number of studios and got a greenlight, though, it was dramatically revised and rewritten by three other writers. Matheson felt that little of what he had envisioned remained in the script and asked to have his name removed from the credits, but upon discovering that this meant he would lose all residuals, he opted to be credited under the pseudonym Logan Swanson.
The film, which was shot predominantly in Italy with an Italian, English, and American cast, starred horror icon Vincent Price in the role of the scientist, now renamed Robert Morgan. While the story is relatively faithful to the original by Matheson, there are certain minor changes of character and incidence, as well as omitted material which would have helped to better expand upon the backstory and ideas behind the vampire disease. Today the film is considered a cult classic and despite Matheson’s disappointment in it, it remains the most memorable adaptation of I Am Legend.
Night of the Living Dead (1968)
Duane Jones as Ben in “Night of the Living Dead” (1968) directed by George A. Romero
As mentioned above, I Am Legend proved to influence the way that vampires were depicted in mainstream media, but it also helped to evolve the concept of zombies. When young aspiring filmmaker George A. Romero set out to create an independent film, he decided that the horror genre of which he was very fond would be the perfect entrance into low-budget filmmaking. Recalling how he was enthralled by I Am Legend and The Last Man on Earth‘s premise of a monstrous disease causing dead humans to become reanimated, Romero came up with a concept that was very similar. The main difference being that his undead were flesh-eating zombies. Romero also added a level of social commentary to his film. In 1968, the film was released and was slammed by critics across the U.S. for its graphic depiction of violence. It also caused controversy because the film was released before the MPAA-instituted ratings and as such children saw the film. When the film was released in art house theatres in Europe, it was immediately hailed as a shocker and a classic. European audiences picked up on subtle social commentary and applauded the film for having an African-American hero (something that was uncommon at that point). The film has been seen as a parable for consumerism in America, as an anti-war statement during the Vietnam Era, and as a metaphor for racism and prejudice.
The cannibalistic ghouls from “Night of the Living Dead”
Over forty years after its release, the film has morphed from “a vile piece of exploitation” into an “enduring cult classic of the genre”. There have been numerous sequels, remakes, and spin-offs and the film is often sited as being the first film of the modern zombie sub-genre.
The Omega Man (1971)
Charlton Heston as Robert Neville in “The Omega Man” (1971) directed by Boris Sagal
The next real adaptation of Matheson’s I Am Legend came in 1971. This reinterpretation had little to do with the original story and replaced the vampire pandemic with a plague of nocturnal mutants that were the result of experimental biological warfare. The film is set against the Cold War and tells the story of Robert Neville, a military scientist who survives the mutant plague by vaccinating himself with an untested vaccine, thus rendering him immune. Unlike the novel or the previous film adaptation, The Omega Man is a basic survival story with Neville (who is played by Charlton Heston) fighting against the albino mutants with seemingly unlimited ammo. The story changes pace though when Neville is captured and put on trial by the mutants, who intend to burn him on a stake. Neville is rescued, conveniently, by a young couple, Lisa and Dutch who are also unaffected survivors of the mutation. Neville ends up creating a serum from his own immune blood which he hands out shortly before his death. The final scene of the film is of the dead Neville lying in a messianic pose. The film was met with mixed criticism, most of which was negative, but has since developed a small cult following.
I Am Omega (2007)
Mark Dacascos as Renchard in “I Am Omega” (2007) directed by Griff Furst
Another adaptation, which was very, very loosely based on the premise, came out in 2007. The film was released a month before the big-budget film I Am Legend and was intended to capitalize on that film’s success. Released directly to DVD, it starred martial artist/actor Mark Dacascos as Renchard a survivor of a virus that has transformed the human race into cannibalistic creatures. Renchard fights a relentless daily battle against the cannibals until one day he is contacted by a fellow survivor via webcam. The survivor, Brianna, pleads with Renchard to help her escape the city and make her way to Antioch, a survivor’s camp. Two men show up from Antioch and explain that Renchard must help them find Brianna and escort her safely to Antioch. After saving Brianna, a bit of intrigue and betrayal occurs and the film ends anticlimactically with Renchard trying to cure Brianna, now infected, back at Antioch.
The film was pretty much panned universally by critics and criticized for being such a blatant effort to cash-in on I Am Legend and similar zombie movies.
I Am Legend (2007)
Will Smith as Robert Neville in “I Am Legend” (2007) directed by Francis Lawrence
The next major film adaptation of Matheson’s novel was the big-budget 2007 film. Though it marks the first time that a film bore the title I Am Legend, the film had more in common with the two prior film adaptations than it had in common with the novel. It starred Will Smith as Robert Neville, again a scientist who believed himself to be the sole survivor of a global pandemic that turned the infected into violent cannibalistic mutants that have a severe form of photosensitivity. The film attempts to give greater access into Neville’s character and shows his life during the day as he takes out old movies from the rental store, converses with mannequins for company, listening to reggae music, and fortifying his holdup. He then spends his nights hunting the cannibal creatures and setting traps for them. During one nightly outing his dog is bitten by an infected dog and Neville is forced to kill it. Now, completely alone, Neville becomes reckless and sets out to get revenge. However, he is greatly outnumbered and only survives when he is, again conveniently, rescued by two human survivors, a woman named Anna and a young boy named Ethan. The three go back to Neville’s house where they form a familial bond and where Anna tells Neville of a small group of survivors. The next night the house is attacked and Neville is forced to sacrifice himself, but before doing so he discovers that his experimental cure is working and he gives it to Anna so that she can take it to the remaining survivors. While the film boasted impressive special effects and some strong acting, it was met with mixed reviews and many criticized the director, Francis Lawrence, who is best known for his visually impressive music videos.
“Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves! All those execs at BP are knaves! Oil was spilled, but it was all for naught. This one Earth is all we’ve got!”
BP: We’re bringing oil to American shores. Me: No shit. Great job with that.
Tool has been one of my favorite bands of the last 25 years or so and as a tribute to them, as well as to my friends Brian and Chris, I have created this list of some of the best Tool music videos. I’ve also included the lyrics. Tool has been at the forefront of the alternative, metal, and progressive rock scenes since their inception in the early ’90s. With lyrical content ranging from the personal to the political, from the serene to the profane, from the physical and sexual to the metaphysical and spiritual, they have cemented themselves as one of the most intellectual and innovative rock bands ever. With complex rhythm sections and arrangements, equal parts melody and high-volume, and the deeply emotional vocal performances of Maynard James Keenan, the group has managed to push the envelope in just about every category, and they have become legends of modern music.
To preserve the artistic integrity of Tool, one of the most innovative rock groups in many years, I have included the lyrics and music videos in their un-edited and uncensored form. As such, sensitive readers/viewers/listeners may not wish to expose themselves to what could be considered disturbing content.
“Lateralus” by Alex Grey (2001)
All lyrics by Maynard James Keenan and all music by Tool. Continue Reading
This interview was conducted with members of the band Cara at the Skye Theatre venue in Carthage, Maine, on March 10, 2010 and was originally posted on Lunch.com on March, 18, 2010.
When you think of great Celtic musicians and bands, you probably don’t immediately think of Germany, but that’s only because you aren’t familiar with Cara yet.
Germany was once renowned throughout the world of classical music for its talented musicians and composers. One only has to mention names like Handel, Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Wagner, Brahms, Orff, or Strauss, and you know exactly how great this country’s musical history is. Yet in recent years, here in America there have only been a few German musicians and bands to really step into the spotlight of popular music. It pretty much goes without saying that none of them were playing classical. No, in recent years it’s the pop and rock bands from Germany that have broken through and entered the modern musical arena. Most of us remember New Wave artists like Nena or heavy metal bands like The Scorpions, but there’s been very little of what one would call “traditional” music to receive widespread attention in the states. However, that is changing.
One of the bands that’s helping to change the common perception of what a band from Germany should sound like is Cara. The group is absolutely unique and can’t really be compared to most of what you might hear on the radio. The reason for this is that, though Cara is from Germany, they play mostly traditional and contemporary folk music from Ireland, Scotland, and England.
Even when it comes to what one might call Celtic music, Americans can be very limited in their perception. While there have been some top-selling performers like The Chieftains, Clannad, Enya, Loreena McKennitt, U2, Sinéad O’Connor, The Cranberries, and The Corrs, a lot of these performers fit more into the New Age or Alternative Rock genres than into what one would consider traditional Irish music. Today, you’re most likely to find Irish folk music within the confines of a small bar or perhaps in the auditorium of your local college campus. So, why is it that a German band has been able to break this barrier and expose the world to a musical art form that hasn’t been given the international respect that it deserves?
The band Cara has an unusual history musically. Each member of the group was brought up either listening to a wide range of music or playing it. Jürgen Treyz, the band’s guitarist, was once part of the trio King-Walther-Treyz. In that band, he performed with his partner and the group’s fiddler, Gudrun Walther and with bassist Florian King. When Florian King had to leave the group, Jürgen and Gudrun decided to form a new group. They had been playing Irish music for sometime and wanted to form an Irish folk group.
Now, in Germany there are actually quite a few Irish bands or at least musicians, and generally they all get together in small groups and play sessions. It was at these sessions that Cara would really take form. Soon, Gudrun and Jürgen had recruited a talented vocalist and flute player named Sandra Gunkel. They then learned that Sandra also played the piano and they loved the idea of including a piano in their music. They also tried to recruit Claus Steinort, though he was somewhat hesitant to join since they already had a flute player in Sandra. However, he did ultimately change his mind. Now, Claus and Sandra are married and have a daughter. But no band could be complete without a strong rhythm section. The group sought out Rolf Wagels, who masterfully plays the bodhrán, a small Irish frame drum made from wood and topped with goatskin. With this lineup the group would record their first album In Colour in 2003 and the rest, as they say, is history.
Recently, I was fortunate enough to sit down with four of the five members of Cara while they were preparing for a concert in my home state of Maine. I have seen the band perform twice, both times at the same small, charming, and intimate venue. The first thing that one would note about the band is how ebullient and friendly they all are, both on and off of the stage. We wound up sitting down in a circle in the middle of the concert hall, which at first was a little awkward for me where I’m still new to giving interviews, but they quickly put me at ease and we began to talk as though we were all friends.
I began the interview with a series of questions about the individual members of the group to get a better idea of who they were as people… I first asked each member if there was a specific song or songs that they were personally most fond of, and the answer was a pretty adamant ‘no‘.
“Well, I’m on the instrumental side, so I like all the fast tunes and jigs,” Claus told me. “So, I don’t have a preference really. Sometimes I prefer the jigs and other times the reels, you know. I like the slower tunes as well. Really, I can’t say that this is the piece I like most.“
This seemed to be the common response, although each member had a different reason for feeling this way.
“I would have to say all of them. They’re all my favourite,” Rolf told me enthusiastically.
At this the group laughed for a bit.
“I really can’t – I really wouldn’t like to pick a specific song or tune, ’cause they’re all very appealing to me. And it would be very unfair to the rest of the songs. There really isn’t any song where I go, ‘Oh, Jesus, not that one again.’ They’re really all special to me,” Rolf elaborated.
“What Rolf says is very true,” Gudrun told me. “It’s the same with me, but what happens when you play a gig, a live show, is that some things by chance are very inspired and maybe others aren’t that particular night. I remember that on the DVD, ‘Bustles and Bonnets‘, the song about the whales, for some reason that came out very inspired. I remember having goose pimples, which is always a good sign.“
As I’ve mentioned before, Cara has an interesting and diverse musical history. Of course, they are asked about this frequently and I didn’t want to have them repeat themselves in telling me what I could have just as easily learned from their website or from another interview, so I attempted to avoid any redundant questions. I was curious about how old each of them were when they were swept up into Irish music and what brought them to play it. Gudrun explained that she had been a fan of Irish and Scottish music since she was a child.
“I started playing trad (traditional) music at six years and then I had classical lessons from the age of seven,” she said.
“At what age did each of you become interested in Irish music?” I asked.
“Five,” Gudrun responded almost immediately, the energy which she displays on stage while performing still evident.
At this, the whole group had a hearty laugh. Claus was a bit more reserved in his answer.
“I was about eleven when I first heard the music, but I didn’t pick it up an instrument before I was eighteen.“
I asked him how many instruments he played.
“I play a lot of whistles, which don’t count because they’re all just whistles, but I play the flute, the (uilleann) pipes, and the concertina.“
He also plays the guitar, although not within the band. Then I turned to Rolf and asked him when the music bug first bit him.
“Well, I was sixteen when I first got interested in Irish music, but I was twenty-one when I first picked up the bodhrán,” he replied.
I asked him, “Is that while you were in Ireland?“
He answered, “I was in Ireland with an orchestra. I was playing the French horn, so I had a classical background as well, which is completely unrelated to Irish music… the French horn. Yeah, we were over on a tour in a music exchange and that was when I fell in love with it.“
At this point, I mentioned that I hadn’t done any real travelling or been to Europe and that I was wondering whether there was a large community of Irish musicians in Germany.
“There is, but it’s not really vast. There are quite a lot of people that play in sessions in every town,” Gudrun explained.
I told them that I was a little surprised to hear that, because I was under the impression that playing Irish music would be fairly unique in Germany, especially the more traditional Irish folk music.
“Folk music is all over the world,” Rolf told me energetically. “You can go to almost any big city in the world and you’ll find some people playing Irish music. There’s always some session going on or…“
“Or in an Irish bar. Even in Germany or wherever you are,” Gudrun pointed out.
When I asked how they were all drawn to the music, Gudrun explained that each member of the band found their way into it separately and that when they formed as a group, each member was already playing Irish music.
Following that same train of thought, I next asked them about their experience touring and where they had been so far. “You’ve all done quite a bit of touring. Other than Europe and the United States, where have you been?“
“Other than Europe and the United States?” Gudrun repeated. At this she chuckled. “Well, Europe for us, the Americans say ‘It’s Europe’. But for us, it’s all these different countries. So, if someone would ask me where we have toured, I would say in France, Italy, Holland, Belgium, Ireland, Scotland, and Germany.“
Somewhat embarrassed that I had asked this question from the perspective of an American, who had not travelled, and not that of someone more familiar with the many countries in Europe, I eagerly decided to change the topic.
I next asked, “Recently, you guys were nominated for and won the Irish Music Award for ‘Best New Irish Artist’. That must have been very exciting, right?“
Rolf smiled and responded first, saying, “Yeah, that was definitely a big honor. To have been nominated for that and to win the thing was a great honor. Especially for us coming from Germany being nominated for an Irish Music Award is something very special.“
“And that probably doesn’t happen very often, does it?“
“No, it doesn’t,” he said. “It’s never happened before.“
I smiled at this and said, only half jokingly, “So, now we’re going to have a whole bunch of German bands who are aspiring to be just like Cara?”
At this the whole group burst into laughter. “Hey, it might happen,” Gudrun offered merrily.
Next, I found myself asking again about their touring. I was curious to know how they had dealt with the fact that Sandra wasn’t able to tour with them on the past few American tours. Sandra had chosen to stay home to take care of her and Claus’ daughter while the rest of the band toured. On those tours, Amanda Kehoe and Patricia Clark filled in for Sandra.
Claus replied, “Every person that plays within the band, for instance Sandra, brings something personal and special. When another person steps in as a substitute it will never be exactly the same. And it should not be the same ’cause the group is comprised of five individual persons. So, on the one hand, we were sad that Sandra could not be with us every time. On the other hand, both girls who came in for her (Amanda Kehoe and Patricia Clark) brought in new influences and it was a new experience, so it has two sides to it. Sure, everybody would prefer to go out and play with the original lineup.“
“But it has it’s advantages as well, you see,” Gudrun added. She then explained, “Because we were looking for a replacement for a piano player and a singer who could also play a melody, so that’s a hard one. But we ended up working with people from Ireland that we hadn’t actually met before we started rehearsing. Of both, we are great fans, because when you have been on tour for four weeks and you get along so well you never part ways.“
“Yeah,” Rolf said smiling. “It’s great if you’re still friends and not enemies after four weeks.“
He and Gudrun chuckle at this knowingly.
“What they both did was to bring in their favourite songs or tunes into the repertoire for that particular tour they were doing with us,” Gudrun expounded. “Some of those songs just stayed in the band’s repertoire and some of those songs we’re still playing on tour. So, it’s great to work with or get the chance to with other musicians as well. Everyone can benefit from that I think.“
Continuing on that same stream of consciousness I asked, “Musically, you all play multiple instruments within the band, right?“
“I don’t,” Rolf told me. “I just play the bodhrán.“
“So when Sandra or another member of the band isn’t there with you, how do you make up for it as far as the music goes? Do you delegate certain parts of the melody to another player? I believe that both Jürgen and Claus will be playing different instruments tonight…“
“Well, not different instruments,” Claus pointed out. “In my case, I don’t play anything that I didn’t play before, but Jürgen does play the piano as well.“
At this Jürgen told me, “This time it’s special. Normally we come over on tour as a five-piece band like with the last tours. This time we’re only the four and that’s a special situation. Normally, we would have looked for another to step in for Sandra, but this is the way it is. I had to take over some of the piano parts, ’cause I think that the piano is a vital part of Cara‘s sound. And of course, there’s something still missing because normally you’d have the piano and the guitar.“
I was curious if this had limited them much in what they could play for songs.
“Oh, yeah,” Gudrun said. “We’ve changed our repertoire quite a bit. Also, for me it meant that I had to play a lot more of the accordion than I usually would. You see with the accordion, you can play chords, but also do backing for songs as well. And I can sing at the same time, which is a bit harder with the fiddle. I find it really hard to sing while I’m playing the fiddle, so the accordion is playing a much bigger role in the current set.“
At this point, it was pretty obvious that I was sitting down with a very talented and hard-working group of people and I was beginning to wonder how they handled it all. I asked them how they managed with everything going on within the band when they also had either jobs or responsibilities outside of the band that took precedence as well.
“Not all of us (have secondary jobs),” Gudrun told me before adding, “but if we don’t have secondary jobs we have secondary bands.” She laughed at this.
“Or tertiary as you actually have three bands,” I added.
She smiled and jested, “I know, I know. You don’t need to remind me.” With this remark she laughed some more.
“And Rolf, you’re a practicing veterinarian, correct?“
“I work at the University of Hannover as a vet, so it’s my holiday being here.“
Gudrun smiled and asked, “Are you enjoying your holiday?“
“I love my holidays,” Rolf laughed and responded with great enthusiasm.
Next, I let my curiosity get the best of me and I asked the question that musicians and singers hate the most.
“When can we expect another CD from you all?“
To my surprise, they weren’t only willing to answer, but seemed glad that I asked.
“We’ll be going back into the studio in May,” Gudrun announced beaming.
Intrigued and wanting to know when this new CD would be available, I asked them how long it usually took them to put together an album.
“It depends, it depends,” she said. “It could be anything between like two weeks and a year depending on how much time everybody has. The first CD was a quick one because we all were there basically and we all had the time to work on it. But with the second CD, Claus and Sandra’s daughter was very little, so they couldn’t be away from home for a long time and also were busy. We ended up recording bits and pieces over a couple of months. Really, we met for like two days in the studio and recorded, then didn’t work on it for three weeks. That’s why it’s called ‘In Between Times‘. And the next album ideally shouldn’t be that way. We want to go back and take the time, then record it in one go.“
Claus also gave further insight into the process of putting together a CD. He told me, “There are several steps. First of all, you have to collect all the tunes and songs that you want to record, or write them, and decide which ones work enough that you want to record them. You have to have a big pool of material that you can choose from. And you have to work on it, arrange it, and rehearse it. Then it comes down to recording. The recording itself is actually the shortest part if everybody knows what it is we’re about to play in a particular song. If it’s good then you may record it in one week or so. But getting there and checking out all the details and the arrangements, that takes time.“
Since their formation in 2003, Cara has released two albums on CD (In Colour and In Between Times), a phenomenal live DVD/CD set (In Full Swing), and won critical acclaim throughout the Western world. They first toured the U.S. in 2007 and they have been back to tour the states four times since then. People genuinely love this band from Germany, not only for their music, but for their lively personalities and their demeanour. Unlike some bands, Cara has no pretensions or attitude about how great they are, and yet they are truly great. Cara is a group that possesses humility and humour, and they aren’t going to take themselves seriously. The music is what matters for them and sharing that music. So, if Cara comes to your town, and you have the opportunity to see them live, I strongly suggest that you go because the group is wunderbar!
Originally posted on Lunch.com on November 7, 2009.
These important revolutionary figures from all walks of life helped to change the way we think and perceive the world, and how we engage it during times of conflict and doubt. Some may be considered quite controversial for their ideas or actions, while others may have been forgotten over the years. All of them should be studied for their contributions to our modern perception of ourselves, science, politics, and human interrelations. I have placed a seminal quote by each of them.
“Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide.”
–John Adams
“All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusions is called a philosopher.” –Ambrose Bierce
“Men are not admitted into Heaven because they have curbed or governed their passions, but because they have cultivated their understandings. The treasures of Heaven are not negations of passion, but realities of intellect, from which all the passions emanate uncurbed in their eternal glory. The fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so holy.” –William Blake
“I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood.” – John Brown
“I maintain my right to die as I have lived – a free woman, not cowed into silence by any other human being.” –Ida Craddock
“Animals, whom we have made our slaves, we do not like to consider our equal.” –Charles Darwin
“People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent.” –Bob Dylan
“A civilization which leaves so much of its participants unsatisfied and drives them into revolt neither has nor deserves the prospect of a lasting existence.” –Sigmund Freud
“Non-violence is the greatest force at the disposal of mankind. It is mightier than the mightiest weapon of destruction devised by the ingenuity of man.” –Mohandas Gandhi
“A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots.” –Marcus Garvey
“Whenever death may surprise us, let it be welcome if our battle cry has reached even one receptive ear and another hand reaches out to take up our arms.” –Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara
“Become an internationalist and learn to respect all life. Make war on machines. And in particular the sterile machines of corporate death and the robots that guard them.” –Abbie Hoffman
“An individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust, and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the highest respect for the law.” –Martin Luther King, Jr.
“The only unnatural sex act is that which you cannot perform.” –Alfred Kinsey
“All ideologies are idiotic, whether religious or political, for it is conceptual thinking, the conceptual word, which has so unfortunately divided man.” –Jiddu Krishnamurti
“Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we’re being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I’m liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That’s what’s insane about it.” –John Lennon
“After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom comes responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended.” –Nelson Mandela
“Me, I’m no educated man. If I was educated, I’d be a damn fool.” –Bob Marley
“As in private life one differentiates between what a man thinks and says of himself and what he really is and does, so in historical struggles one must still more distinguish the language and the imaginary aspirations of parties from their real organism and their real interests, their conception of themselves from their reality.” –Karl Marx
“If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door.” –Harvey Milk
“Who controls the past controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.” –George Orwell
“I believe in the equality of man; and I believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy.” –Thomas Paine
“Against the State, against the Church, against the silence of the medical profession, against the whole machinery of dead institutions of the past, the woman of today arises.” –Margaret Sanger
“A man is truly ethical only when he obeys the compulsion to help all life which he is able to assist, and shrinks from injuring anything that lives.” –Albert Schweitzer
“Throughout history, it has been the inaction of those who could have acted; the indifference of those who should have known better; the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most; that has made it possible for evil to triumph.” –Haile Selassie I
“However sugarcoated and ambiguous, every form of authoritarianism must start with a belief in some group’s greater right to power, whether that right is justified by sex, race, class, religion or all four. However far it may expand, the progression inevitably rests on unequal power and airtight roles within the family.” – Gloria Steinem
“You can’t separate peace from freedom because no one can be at peace unless he has his freedom.” –Malcolm X
“It is better to die on your feet, than live on your knees.” –Emiliano Zapata
This essay was originally posted on Lunch.com in an abridged review format on October 26, 2009.
Introduction How did one of the most violent tyrants in history help to inspire the most legendary of fictional villains? Well, to answer that question, one must examine not only Bram Stoker‘s Gothic horror novel, but also the terrible and fascinating history of Roumania’s most famous prince. There are so many influences and inspirations that went into the character of Count Dracula and not all of them are well-known. Today, Stoker’s vampiric villain is now a cultural icon and he has undergone many changes, some of which are barely noticeable and others that radically contradict the original character that Stoker invented. Indeed, Count Dracula must be undead for his image and his legacy never seem to die.
This essay was originally posted on Lunch.com in an abridged review format on October 23, 2009.
Foreword Myths and legends of vampires are widespread. Tales of their existence can be found in virtually every culture across the globe and they date back to thousands of years ago. Contrary to Western beliefs, the vampire has been around since long before Bram Stoker‘s Dracula popularized the bloodsucking fiends, and the presence of vampires have been rumoured in almost every country. Indeed, these terrifying creatures of darkness are not limited to the folklore of Eastern Europe or to the confines of Gothic literature.The history of vampires is a long, dark, and brutal glimpse into the past. Most “rational” people will immediately dismiss vampires altogether as outdated mythology, escapist fiction, or the nightmarish delusions of the emotionally disturbed. But how is it then, that tales of vampirism have been echoed in eerily similar fashion on multiple continents over the course of millennia? Where did this concept of vampires come from and does it have its origins in reality? To find the answers to these questions, one must be willing to probe the dark secrets of the human subconscious and walk in the shadows of a forgotten history recorded in blood. Do you possess the innate ability to separate fantasy from reality and can you acknowledge the fact that science and history aren’t infallible? If so, then maybe your mind is open enough to accept that we live in a universe of unlimited potential, where anything is possible… even the existence of the supernatural! Continue Reading
pop (pop) – 1. to burst suddenly through the application of pressure or by piercing
2. a derivative term of the words popular, popularity, or population
culture (kul’chər) –
1. the growth and/or development of a bacteria or organism
2. the properties, traditions, philosophies, sensibilities, arts and entertainment of a people or society
pop culture (pop kul’chər) –
1. the collective components of culture that are considered to be popular or of the majority consensus
2. a penetrative bacteria of the mind that once has infected a person causes the immediate loss of independent thought and a general assimilation with the conformist masses
On my walk into the library, I came upon a most amusing scene: a disembodied Barbie doll head impaled on a stick by the roadside. I was tempted to scrawl a caption beneath it that would have read, “Ken was here!”, but alas I had no means by which to do so. Still, somehow, it just made my day a little bit brighter, though why exactly the sight of a decapitated doll cheered me up has yet to be examined. I’m sure there’s some underlying psychological reason which is perhaps best left un-investigated.
“Patriotism: Combustible rubbish ready to the torch of any one ambitious to illuminate his name.” – Ambrose Bierce
There’s a common misconception that questioning or distrusting the country you come from or the reigning government of that country is somehow a form of disloyalty. Often it’s seen as being unpatriotic. In truth, such feelings and the appropriate expression of them is the highest form of patriotism. I detest this country for what it is, but I love it for what it could be. Does that make me a patriot or does it make me anti-American or un-American? So, the question remains: is it unpatriotic to see things for what they are and to be disappointed or angered by them or is it better to suffer from delusions of cultural superiority and blind patriotism? I can’t even recall how many times I’ve been accused of being anti-American or un-American by someone who was completely oblivious to the crimes that this country has committed. Am I anti-American or un-American? Yes, and no.
Firstly, I am against nationalism and I believe that, as human beings, we need to look beyond the illusory borders and boundaries that we permit to divide us. Why should we take pride or have shame over something as absurd as the geographic location that we originate from? Is one pile of dirt that different from another? Is one corrupt and hypocritical regime that distinct from the others? Is one ethnicity, religion, or culture superior while the others are inferior? Not from where I’m standing. We’re all equal, whether we recognize it or not. Secondly, to suggest that I’m exclusively anti-American is nonsensical for a number of reasons. The most obvious being that I am an American. I was born and raised here and if being an American is determined by that fact alone, then I certainly would fall into that category. I am a product of both nurture and nature, having been shaped by (or in spite of) the environment in which my character developed. So, if I were to be anti-American, then in essence I would be anti-me. Also, accusing me of being anti-American or un-American is further evidence that the self-proclaimed “true Americans” are too arrogant and/or too ignorant to notice that I’m anti-nationalist, so by nature I would be against the asinine concept of being for either this nationality or that one. I do not acknowledge nations or countries insomuch as they are simply constructs built to contain and separate different cultures at various geographical points around the globe.
For hundreds of centuries, going back to the dawn of civilization, there have been those individuals who have gone against the grain and asserted their own individuality. Often these individuals were critical of their contemporaries, their culture, and of the ruling majority. In almost every single case from those ancient times until the present, dissenters have been singled out and ostracized for their differing perspectives and opinions, even though their criticisms often sowed the seeds for positive change. There is a definite pattern of outcasts becoming martyrs while supposed patriots become fanatics. Is this due to revisionist views of history by which the underdog or the loner is romanticized? Perhaps to some degree, but when the ideas of these individuals form the cornerstones for great cataclysmic upheavals and change, their significance cannot be denied regardless of whether or not the changes they helped to usher in were of benefit or detriment to society as a whole.
Therefore the argument must be put forth that the critics, the cynics, and the curmudgeons are of fundamental importance to their fellow countrymen. Yet despite this they are shunned, ridiculed, and silenced for speaking unwelcome words or offering less-than-flattering opinions. But if it weren’t for those seers who saw the flaws in the foundation of society, who saw the chinks in the armor of the governing body, the ugliness in the self-styled beauties, then we would not acquire and adapt new perspectives. The human mind and the human collective would become stagnant, regressive, conformist, and would shrink from the shadows of the unknown rather than casting forth an illuminating beam of curiosity and knowledge.
So, perhaps instead of viewing those that are deemed rebels or dissenters as being unpatriotic to the countries from which they spring, we should view them as visionaries who see beyond their present time and place… for while they are the heretics of today, they are also the true patriots of tomorrow.
“To accept civilization as it is practically means accepting decay.” – George Orwell
“Nosferatu, A Symphony of Horror” Image Entertainment’s Special Edition DVD.
For those wondering why I have chosen the pseudonym Count Orlok ’22, the reason behind this is simple: Count Orlok was the titular vampire character in the 1922 silent German horror film Nosferatu – Eine Symphonie des Grauens, which is my favorite film. The ’22 is a reference to the year the film was released as well as to my age at the time of creating this alias.
“Nosferatu, A Symphony of Horror” Kino On Video’s Restored Authorized Edition DVD.
Now back to the film. Nosferatu was an unofficial adaptation of Bram Stoker‘s 1897 novel Dracula. The film’s director, Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau uses the archetype of the blood-sucking vampire as a metaphor for the horrors of war and fascism. As the parasitic vampire, Orlok invades the small village of Wisborg, Germany, where he spreads a plague of death and destruction. This plague was a symbolic reference to the totalitarianism that was rising in Germany at the time the film was being made.
Murnau, himself served as a pilot in WWI, but then after witnessing the senseless killing he condemned war and unnecessary death. Murnau left Germany just as the Nazi Party was beginning to rise in power. He went to America and there he shot a masterpiece (Sunrise – A Song of Two Humans), but after his next two projects were interfered with by studio executives, Murnau decided that the commercial interests of Hollywood conflicted with his own artistic aesthetics. Leaving America behind, he would next travel to Tahiti where he would direct his last motion picture (Tabu – A Tale of the South Seas). Shortly before the film’s premiere in 1931, Murnau would die in a tragic automobile accident.
“Nosferatu – Eine Symphonie des Grauens” Kino International’s Ultimate DVD Edition.
By assuming this alias I am both paying tribute to a classic film and its brilliant director, as well as expressing my abhorrence for war and violence in all of its manifestations.
Parasites are we as we live at the expense of others…
Preliminary poster by Albin Grau (circa 1921-1922)
“Nosferatu” poster by Albin Grau (1922)
“Nosferatu” one sheet poster by Albin Grau (1922)
Original production design, conceptual, and promotional artwork by Albin Grau.
“Nosferatu” theatrical program book cover illustration by Albin Grau (1922)
Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau (photo circa 1924)
Graf Orlok und Herr Hutter
Orlok emerges from below deck.
Orlok stalks the ship.
Orlok grasping…
Der Schatten des Graf Orlok
The shadow of Count Orlok ascending the stairs.
Orlok und Ellen
Parasites are we as we live at the expense of others…
“Nosferatu, A Symphony of Horror” DVD by Image Entertainment
“Nosferatu, A Symphony of Horror” Restored Authorized Edition DVD by Kino On Video
“Nosferatu – Eine Symphonie des Grauens” The Ultimate DVD Edition by Kino International