The Angelus

So I learned something new today.  As much as I like Salvador Dali, I never realized that the above painting named "Archeological Reminiscences of Millet's Angelus" was based on Millet's "The Angelus".  Although I was familiar with both paintings visually, I never connected the names.  I know... you can say a big Homer Simpson "DUH" here.

The Angelus is a prayer based on the Angel coming to Mary in the gospels.  In the 1400's onward,   when the church bells rang (three times a day) the peasants would stop their labor and say the prayer.  Further Info on the Angelus  and even more plus the prayer in Latin.
 The peasants looked as if they were merely praying their daily prayer.  However, Dali was obsessed with this image.  He did not believe the couple were praying their daily prayers, but  praying for a dead child (or unborn child).  . Dalí was so insistent on this fact that eventually an X-ray was done of the canvas, and the painting contains a painted-over geometric shape strikingly similar to a coffin.  It is unclear whether Millet changed his mind on the meaning of the painting, or even if the shape actually is a coffin.
I want to know more about Dali's painting, but have to pull out my books, since these internet sites seem to be more interested in selling reproductions and prints than giving information.  However, I think, Dali had made some association with  sex and death.  I will probably add on to this more later, send me emails or comments to your ideas.  I would love to hear.Angelus

I am Robot, I am Troy Davis

I have mixed feelings about  capital punishment.  I like to think of myself as a Pro-Lifer from cradle to grave.   While reading the Lord of the Rings when I was 16, I was struck by this dialogue between Frodo and Gandalf. Frodo said that it was a pity Bilbo didn't kill Gollum, when he had a chance.  Gandalf replies, "It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand.  Many that live DESERVE death.  Some that die deserve life.  Can you give it to them, Frodo?  Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment.  Even the very wise cannot see all ends.  My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before this is over.  The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many"


This week, unaware, being in my little bubble, I ran across this tumblr...


I am Lawrence Belk
This statement reminded me of the Outer Limits 1995 (and later a movie by the same name)  I, Robot.  It is based on a short story by Asimov.
I immediately clicked on this link... to find out the details of the story.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/09/21/troy-davis-and-lawrence-b_n_974293.html  struggling with my stand after reading this. Who wants a serial killer on the same earth as the ones you love?  I try think of  how Christ would have handled it.  When confronted with a woman who was sentenced to die...

John 8:7, where Jesus challenges the men who would put her to death, he points out the guilt in us all, and they walk away.

But adultery is not murder, and it is include a grotesque desire for blood.  But Jesus lived at the peak of the Roman empire.  Have you read about the blood, gore, bloodthirst, and atrocities which occurred?  Seriously, Christ lived in a society which would have Lawrence Belk in charge of arena games, or a soldier of some sort.  And yet, He was silent on a lot of social issues, even that.  I am probably minimalizing and summarizing these thoughts to a fault.  

We live in a broken world, with broken people.  There are awful, horrible things done to innocent victims. Jesus did have a few words to say about those who hurt children.  It includes a millstone and is kind of harsh.  (I need a reference here, but can't seem to find it...help me out)

I just struggle with a state's right to try and sentence an individual to DEATH.  What a responsibility!  There are innocent people who are tried and found guilty every year.  Mostly due to the lack of financial funds, because lets face it... if you have money in this country, you can get away with a lot!  Yes, Lawrence  Belk  DESERVED DEATH.  But I certainly would not want to push the button, especially if it meant that a potentially innocent man like Troy Davis had to die!  See, my dilemma?  What is the worse of two evils?  The government having the power to administer life and death, or the evil which lurks in the hearts of men?  Perhaps we need a Shadow  to administer justice..

Going back to the issue... should we kill our worse criminals?  Should we administer "an eye for any eye" as a society?  What will that do to the soul of our culture?
There is another Outer Limits episode.  It deals with the prison system of the future.  The episode is called THE SENTENCE.  Imagine a virtual prison, administered in a few moments.  During that small amount of time, the prisoner spends years and years  in a prison or sentence appropriate to his crime.  It is an extremely thought provoking episode.  Perhaps a death sentence is more humane.  
The silent ramblings of my mind will continue...

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

 I have always been drawn to Pre-raphaelite art.

To truly understand the style, I will give a quick Art History lesson.  See, Michelangelo and Raphael were Masters, right?  They were trained under the Renaissance artists who sought for perfection of form, light, proportion.   Michelangelo and Raphael were trained that way but then 'matured' to an 'exaggerated extension' of realism.  You can see this in the later painting of these two (and some others who followed), you will note exaggerated, out of proportion bodies, long awkward necks, strange inhuman shaped limbs.  If you really take the time to look.  The "Mannerists"  painted in the style that Michelangelo and Raphael began.  It was viewed as a natural progression of art coming out of the High Renaissance.  Well, in 1848, a group of artists formed in England who viewed the High Renaissance style of realism more enlightening than the mannerism which followed.  The subjects of the art of the Pre-Raphaelites tended to be stories from mythology, fairy tales, and King Arthur.  They loved Medieval themes, since they felt that era was very spiritual and creative.   They strove to create art that was purposeful... expressing  a grand idea or thought.

Above is one of my favorite paintings.  I have a small print of it.  (would love to get a larger one eventually).  It is haunting.  Check out the realism in the fabric of her dress.  The desperation in her eyes.  The shine of metal.  I could never tire of this painting.  John William Waterhouse painted it, and he is probably my favorite artist of all time.  I like him partly because I love to look at his work.  But also because he paints literature.   Poetry in particular.....Tennyson, Keats, Homer.

The Keats poem "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" was painted by several Pre Raphaelites.





O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
       Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
       And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
       So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
       And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
       With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
       Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
       Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
       And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
       And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
       And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,
       And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
       A faery’s song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
       And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
       ‘I love thee true’.

She took me to her elfin grot,
       And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
       With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,
       And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamt
       On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
       Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci
       Thee hath in thrall!’

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
       With horrid warning gapèd wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
       On the cold hill’s side.

And this is why I sojourn here,
       Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
       And no birds sing.



I read several interpretations.  One of them deals with the knight's decision to forsake his real life and reality for an ideal of love that does not exist.  Another interesting one was that the woman is a form of the femme fatale... deliberately destructive.  A third idea was that he was under an enchantment of the imagination.  And his real life wasted away in pursuit of a world that is not real.


I am not sure what I think, I do know that fairy tales always give a shadow of truth. Often a deep spiritual truth. I must ponder this some more... what do you think?

Another thing I really like about the poem is the reference to Pale Kings.... reminds me of Frodo in the Lord of the Rings putting on the Ring while the Nazgul are chasing him and he sees the Pale King... but that has nothing to do with this tale.

The Day that Changed Everything

It was pretty early on that chilly New Hampshire September morning.  The mist had not yet risen off the grass.  Of course the boys were up. They were still toddlers, Ransom was 3 and Ethan was 1.   My husband was on his way to a business appointment in Connecticut and he called me.  He said,  'Beck, turn on the tv quick.  It's unbelievable.  This can't be happening.  I am coming home."  I turned on the TV, and time froze.  The twin towers were on the screen.  In smoke.  The great World Trade Center.  Of course we had both been there before being native New Yorkers. We watched in disbelief as the plane deliberately flew into the tower.  The smoke, the desperation in the reporters voices.  It was all happening in slow motion.  This type of thing happened everywhere else in the world, but not here.  America was supposed to be safe.  This type of thing didn't happen in "The City". The bombs and guns of war were for far off distant places.
My first thought was of my brother Luke, who was a Captain for United Airlines.  He was always the original Luke Skywalker to me, he started flying planes when I was a little girl.   His home-base  was  NY and often flew the cross country flights to California.  That was his route.  Could it had been his plane?  I called my mother.  I tried to call Luke. 
My parents, although living in Vermont, were actually in Staten Island.  See, my grandfather had died on September 11 in 1980.  My father and his 4 brothers (and sister when possible)  were commemorating his death all these year later.  Pop was that kind of man.  So, my parents were trapped in the City and couldn't come home.  The City was closed off.  I couldn't even get ahold of them for a while... it was pre-cell phone for them and land lines weren't working.  They finally called and they were fine.  A little frazzled from the situation.  I got an update on where every single one of my cousins and relatives were.  A few were actually in Manhattan working.  They had to get home by walking across the bridge.  My brother called.  He was in an airport, somewhere, and of course all air travel was nixed.  So, he was safe, but like so many others, he was stuck where he was.  I remember him telling me, "Becky, this changes everything.  The country will never be the same.  We will always be at war now."  A chill was sent through my spine. 
As the day unfolded, the screen told the tales.  The other planes, the acts of heroism, the tales of desperation.  It was unreal, but not really.  Somehow, before this, America was sheltered.  This was how the world really was.  This is how broken, sick humans actually operate.  But it also showed another thing.  It showed the other side of human nature.  There are brave, heroic men and women.  Some of them don't even know how brave they are until put to the test.  The firefighters rushing into falling buildings. The man who saved so many lives because he stood up and acted without reservation on the plane which was meant to crash into a government building in Washington, not in a Pennsylvania farmfield.  So many acts of sacrifice, each a witness to all that is good in the world.
I, like so many other Americans, will never forget where I was, what I was doing on that day.  The day that changed everything. 

The Charles Dicken's Girl

In a way, I think I lucked out.  I was born to a father who exposed me to fine music (and made sure I learned music theory), fine art, classic literature, and a love for nature. He did something else for me too, although it is tied into the classic literature part.  He put the desire in my heart to be a certain type of girl.  I guess it began when he named me Rebekah. He gave me my name because he loved how the biblical Rebekah had a servant's heart.  When she saw a tired man wearied from a long journey in need of water, she not only provided him with water, but took care of his animals as well.  He wanted me to be that type of girl.  A girl who notices those in need and does what she can to bring them relief.  He spoke about the Charles Dicken's Girl, as well.

If anyone reads any of Dicken's novels, amidst the intricate web of relationships, social concern, politics, and intrigue, there is a great character study going on.  One of the re-occuring characters is a particular girl.  This girl is sweet, humble, good, beautiful (but not only or always physically), smart, and emanates a spirit of light to everyone.  Reading these novels, I have always been inspired to be more like Agnes, Rose, Dorritt and Esther. (Concerning beauty, Esther from Bleak House, became more beautiful after her face was scarred from small pox.  She actually changed the standard of beauty by her beautiful inner soul.)
This archetype  was inspired by a real girl in Dicken's life.  He was in a cold marriage to a woman with whom he had lots of children.   Her younger sister came to help with the household. She also became a confidant to him and he shared his writings with her.  He valued her opinion more than anyone else's.   She lived with them for three years, and suddenly died when she was 17. Charles took a ring from her finger and wore it for the rest of his life in memory of her.  Of course, I realize, he probably idolized her after she died and created a character larger and more beautiful than anyone in life can be.
That doesn't mean that it is wrong to try to live up to such an ideal.
I don't come close, of course.  I am a wretched person most of the time.  And very selfish.  But that is the value of reading classic literature.  Seeing the deep themes which affect human nature.  Being inspired by selfless acts and strong characters.  Becoming concerned with the child who society has wronged.  Trying to be better than you are.  I want to be like Agnes.  And I will make every effort NEVER to be like Estella, or worse Mrs.  Haversham!!!
That is the value of  reading a good Dickens novel!

Makomoto Fujimura on Rouault

I was recently introduced to Makoto Fujimura .
I was told to read his book, (which I need to order) but I did start reading his blog.  How delighted I was to come across the blog about Georges Rouault which I linked above!
There is something intriguing to me about Rouault.  Perhaps it is because he was a rebel.  Perhaps because he was truly a medievalist and not a modernist.  Perhaps it is because his art speaks to my heart.

Whatever the reason,  I love his art.  He inspires me to make art that communicates God's love to the broken.  He shows light in darkness.  Here is an excerpt from the blog about Rouaults' work.
"Rouault's paintings are not ideologically driven, like the modernists, or of pure abstraction, like some of the expressionists, nor hedonistic, like the Fauves:  Rouault paintings are faithful depiction of the broken realities of his time, eloquent testimonies of color in fragmentation and graceful reminder of faith in an agnostic, and increasingly atheistic era."

The following excerpt reminds me of how George MacDonald's writings influenced C.S.Lewis and opened a whole new world to his mind about reality.

"Thus, Rouault's influence in my life is far more than mere inspiration; he gave permission in the "No Exit" room to look outside from the most unlikely place of exile: his painting were little windows into a Reality I did not know existed.  What I saw there was both beautiful and terrifying.  It showed a path of a suffering servant who took on the broken condition of our souls, the historic Jesus of Nazareth, who chose to walk into darkness as claiming to be the "light of the world."  The images of the Savior that entered my eyes, became etched into my heart, and eventually broke through into my life, and along with the words of William Blake,  and Jacques Maritain, became central guiding posts for my journey of art, faith and creativity.[10]  
To Rouault, to create such indelible images, hard labor and discipline is required. Many people today assume that being an artist or musician is irresponsibly drifting into a romantic ease; young artists and musicians may think that as well, until they actually attempt to make it work. Artists actually work longer hours, with lower wages, with no guarantees of security than most other occupations.  There is no "nine to five" boundaries for us. But those who make it work, do so knowing that their expression has a place inside more enduring conversations that go deep beneath the culture's superficial terrains.  And to Rouault, and often for me, that conversation is rarely with contemporaries, but with artists of the past influences, like Rembrandt or Fra Angelico, or, for my journey, artists like Tohaku Hasegawa.  We are caught in the five hundred year conversations.  And in such reality, consistency, diligence and commitment to discipline is the only way to gain entry into an enduring conversation"