The Lament for Icarus

This painting hangs in my study as a constant reminder... One will fly too high, beyond their intelligence and ego, one's false sense of inflated self is bound to fall, as one’s nemesis follows one’s pride.

Beyond the legend and story, this is one of the most beautiful neo-classic paintings ever created.

Almost forgotten, Herbert Draper (1863-1920) is considered a Pre-Raphaeilte along with J.W. Waterhouse, as one of the most gifted artists of the period.

Draper, as most of the pre-Raphaelites’, focused their attention on mythology, legend and scenes from the bible.

An English painter, he was educated at the Royal Academy in London, and becoming a disciple of the so called “founders of the movement”, that is to say, Danta Gabriel Rosstti, surpassed their form and produced works’ of stunning magic and realism.

Although “Icarus” is a stunning work, if interested, research this artist and you will come upon a few dazzling scenes: “Sea Melodies” or the “Gates of Dawn”: alluring, sensuous and highly charged with history, myth and basic beauty...absolutely startling.

If not Beauty, at the very least, “The lament of Icarus” is striking.

The Invisible Appears

In a former entry, I described a strange woman on my street, as if she wished to be invisible. I was worried because I hadn’t seen her walking past my window for at least a week.

All too often, the aged and lonely pass away or get very sick and are unable to call for help or are not discovered for weeks, months and in some cases, years.

Some of us would rather put these “types” in the Denial Department, thus their invisibility.

Well, lo and behold, on my way home from work today, their she was: green and plastic shopping bag in hands, that thick, ratty old blue coat and long woolen dress (it was very hot today!); her greasy hair wrapped around her face looking at the ground as she walked along the road.

I felt relief but saddend at the same time.

Why?

I was too concerned about getting home to check my mail and feed my cats rather than find out where she lives (if in fact she has a home) so as to ensure that in a time of crises, she will not be forgotten.

All too often, our own lives of day to day monotony or self created drama, fail to see what or who is directly in front of us.

I do believe the dictum that if you think your life is bad; check out your fellow human’s, and suddenly your own problems pail in comparison.

I am happy to know she is at least out and about, but it is taking that little step further that makes all the difference.

Modern Expressionism

This haunting piece by Joseph Milton is entitled, “Inside”.

Although painted in 1998, the work does not have the attributes of typical “Modern Expressionism” inspired by the German Expressionists.

Why?

Although Milton’s use of extreme colour, merging images from other works, with an emphasis on obscure subject matter, depth and exaggerated distortion, feels to be too derivative of German Expressionism or expressionism in general.

The only difference with this “modern” work and the paintings of the 1920’s, is its content...there is no political agenda...but of course a statement is being made and that statement could well be anyone’s guess.

As is the 70’s post modern sensibility, Modern Expressionism relates itself to the notion of “collage”, a merging of many artforms in the attempt at the creation of a “free style work or movement,” that is to say, the notion of pastiche, ala The Simpson’s or the work of Brian De Palma in film. The artist has carte blanche to steal any work from anywhere, past or present, merge different media forms and present it as a piece of Art; however, God forbid, never call it “original.” As this goes against the post modern ethos, however, ironically, post modernism claims total freedom from artistic “dogma”, yet has one, and a strong ethos at that...(not time or space to elaborate.)

One would have to admit that Milton’s “Inside” is striking in its use of colour and the feelings of dread it emanates. Unfortunately, it is reminicent of another modern artist’s style that at the moment escapes me... damn.

Modern Expressionism spawned from Expressionism, German Expressionism and Abstract Expressionism of the Americans, the most famous artist from this movement being Sidney Pollack.

Then, of course, one cannot fail to mention one of the godfather’s of modern expressionism, of all the so-called post modern artists, Andy Warhol, who ‘painted’ the screens of Marilyn Monroe that continue to sell at outrageous prices.

Milton’s painting is certainly derivative from the German Expressionists in terms of their insanity, delusion and depictions of sufferring.

Something I would never buy or hang on my wall, but interesting just the same.

Visitors

Sitting alone feeling the lonliness of one who lives alone.

The comforts of the television or the stereo have been absconded...

There’s nothing but the silence and the wind.

Only with the company of one’s thoughts, the candles begin to flicker in an unusual manner.

“This is not really happening.” I think.

The flames grow and dance as if alive with consciousness, drawing me in.

If they begin to talk to me, the dancing flames, I’m in terrible trouble, and I could lose my soul.

As I draw closer to the dancing flames, engulfed in their heat and dialouge, telling me of wealth and powers to come, through the window of the night come the lost spirits or the angels of light...but I do not know which...

These lights are tiny orbs of luminosity.

I count twelve of them in all, surrounding the flames of the candles, and slowly, the flames of each candle burns out, leaving only the tiny orbs of light.

The room fills with their light and all twelve attach themselves to my body.

I can feel their beingness, their love and all at once the room fills with a gentle light of ...so much LOVE.

This must be Heaven or God, I believe, when, one by one the tiny orbs of light dis-attach themselves from my body and fly at lightning speed through my kitchen window.

Their mission completed.

I feel a calmness, a peace never felt before, and stumble to my bed, falling instantly to sleep, dreaming of those special beings lost and loved...knowing we will meet again.

But truly it is the pure love emanating from the Light that comforts most of all...a complete forgiveness.

My soul falls into restfullness.

The Invisible

There is a woman who lives on my street that walks by my window three to four times a week. She wears the same heavy old green coat no matter the temperture. Her hair is straight and noticably greesy covering her face, as her head is always pointed to the ground. She walks at an even pace and intuitively, I perceive she desires to be invisible...and to most, she is...

Was it the American Transcendetalist, Henry David Thoreau, who said that most people live lives of quiet desperation?

The woman appears to be around forty years of age, living alone, talking to no one; is it her choice to be alone?

Is she mentally ill? Would she run away if approached? No one seems to pay attention to her though she walks every day to the shops with her green bags, looking very sad.

The problem is that I have not seen her for a few days.

If we do not have loved one’s or family, to die alone, she would not be discovered for a long time.

My thought is to discover her abode and pay attention. Watch her to ensure this does not occur.

Because, all said and done, she is not invisible to me.