Power of Art

Lately I've been watching Simon Schama's The Power of Art on PBS. It is an excellent series and his views on art are both global and personal (which I like).

Last night's episode was on Rothko. Jebbo and I went to the Rothko chapel while I was in Houston and spent quite a bit of time in the Rothko room in the neighboring museum containing the Menil Collection.

They tend to replay these episodes here on Georgia Public Television, but check your local listings. I thought the Rothko episode was particularly good -- maybe because I had just seen several paintings and had a nice conversation with Jebbo about them.

Anyway, what I like about Rothko's paintings is similar to what I like about Morrison's books or about the ballet that I saw in NYC: when I read or see it, I feel something. What I feel is different for each piece (or even each chapter), but there is a literal emotion that I feel when I experience those artists.

It is the human experience: to connect with other human beings. And to travel across distance, time periods, genders, cultures, sexualities, classes, races, nationalities, or whatever other boundaries exist out there, that is the "it" factor.

The co-Potter-enthusiast wants a happy post today. I'm skeptical. Today, it seems that what moves me in life is not happy. It is not the perfect ending to book 7 that I liked, but the earlier chapter where he dies: standing fully conscious of his own sacrifice to face death -- even though he is scared.

This is what this episode of Power of Art showed me about Rothko. As a Russian, Jewish immigrant, Rothko watched as the Holocaust and the atom bomb destroyed the world as it was known. I never lived in that world. I don't know a place where people believe in god or good or truth. My world, though, however destroyed and tainted, still contains something that connects person to person. And even if that truth is relative, it is a sort of truth after all.

This "it" somehow brings me back to The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and the idea that even when all is lost, all is not lost.

So perhaps this is a happy post after all.

two weeks

Well, I'm down to a two week countdown. Most of the stuff is moved (although I'll take one carload this week), and I'm finished with most of my summer travel. I think we might take a long weekend next week to relax on a beach somewhere.

So, with only fourteen days left, I am looking closer and closer into the mirror, into the reflection of myself.

I am slowing down on my reading so that I can keep my eyes on my own eyes in the mirror.

I have much to figure out.

Today I am thinking about my lifelong attraction to carnival and the freaks of the world. I just saw Fur. It is something I have in common with Arbus.

Just cute

namesake of the Order and avid reader.

One more on Harry Potter and then...

Hopefully this will be it for a while. However, I'm about to make another road trip and I bought the audio book, so after listening to the book, I may pick up a few more things.

Okay. SPOILER ALERT. Don't read if you're not finished.


So, Jebbo says Harry doesn't die. I say he does. After thinking it through I still disagree with Jebbo. Here's why, but it's not clear how this works out:

In the "King's Cross" chapter there is a creature/baby there with him. I think the creature is the part of Voldemort's soul that was trapped in Harry (making him the horcrux). In order to make Voldemort killable, Harry must die so that the horcrux is destroyed. The reason Harry can live again is that he basically has a type of horcrux too ... one that Voldemort took from him. Notice how the connection between the two grew after The Goblet of Fire and the ceremony where Voldemort takes his blood. So, like Voldemort when he tried to kill Harry when Harry was one, Harry is out there, alive but not alive. Unlike Voldemort, he still has a body to return to...and this might be a kink in the story (but we don't really know what happens to Voldemort's body -- why he doesn't have one when his curse backfires on him).

However, Harry says, "He killed me with your wand." and Dumbledore responds, "He failed to kill you with my wand." (page 712). This suggests that Jebbo is correct. But, if he doesn't kill Harry, what do we do with that crying baby/creature?

Well let's look at what the book says:

Harry glanced again at the raw-looking thing that trembled and choked in the shadow beneath the distant chair.

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, then we say good-bye for the present."

That was Dumbledore speaking.

So, when Voldemort dies in this final book, Harry is finally free to be a normal person...no more scar problems.

So, he does die. He has to for the horcrux to be destroyed.

But what do we do about his body? Why can he re-enter it even when his soul is in Voldemort?

I'll let you know if I understand more clearly after my second time through.

After thinking it over (Don't read if you haven't finished book 7)

SPOILER ALERT. DON'T READ IF YOU'RE NOT DONE WITH THE DEATHLY HALLOWS


Well, what else could she do?

If you haven't seen the movie Stranger than Fiction, you should watch it. One of the lessons learned in that movie is that the "right" ending ... the ending that makes a book perfect, a classic, a masterpiece, is the ending that no one wants (except the literary snobs like me). Most readers want a happy ending. We want the hero to win.

Rowling attempted a kind of compromise. She gave me my ending, but then recanted it. But, as I told Jebbo: doesn't she have to? I mean it's a children's book, after all. Doesn't she have to teach children that the one who does the right thing is going to come out alright in the end?

So, while I think she did the wrong thing, she made the "weaker" choice from a literary standpoint, she also did the thing that made her rich and popular in the first place...she gave Harry the ending we all wanted...he lives.

What makes this okay (at least to some degree) with me is that she does kill him. As I read chapter 34 (The Forest Again), I loved her...there he was sacrificing himself willingly to save all of us. I cried and thought, "It is perfect, she's going to do it; I can't believe it." It was perfect. And this is the same dilemma we see in Stranger than Fiction. Thompson's character (Crick) writes the perfect book with the perfect ending. In that ending, Ferrell's character dies. But what happens when we all (including the author) have fallen in love with the character? What happens when we want him to live? You can choose not to kill him, and everyone will be happy. If an author makes that choice, the "perfect" story is sacrificed rather than the character.

Rowling chose differently than I would. In the adult version of the Harry Potter series that I have running in my head parallel to the real stories she's given us, Harry died. No rebirth, no resurrection. But that is why she is rich instead of me. No one would love my book.

What is most interesting is that the perfect ending is not the popular one. How is it that that has happened?

My initial thoughts...no real spoiler

The book ended on page 704. After that, Rowling freaked out. She didn't know what to do -- what would everyone say? So she kept writing.


Coward.

It is finished

Much to say, but don't want to be a spoiler. Soon...

Your Halloween Costume Should Be

Elvis

What Should You Be For Halloween?

You Are A Romantic Realist

You tend to be grounded when it comes to romance. Sure, you can fall hard... but only for someone you've gotten to know. And once you're in love, you can be a total romantic goofball... But you'd never admit it to your friends!

Are You Romantic or Realistic?

You Belong in London

A little old fashioned, and a little modern. A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock. A unique soul like you needs a city that offers everything. No wonder you and London will get along so well.

What City Do You Belong In?

You Are 80% Creative

You are beyond creative. You are a true artist - even if it's not in the conventional sense of the word. You love creating for its own sake, and you find yourself quite inspired at times.

How Creative Are You?

You Are Los Angeles

Young and fun, you always know where the best parties are. And while you tend to keep things carefree and casual... You certainly can glam it up when you need to. Famous people from Los Angeles: Tyra Banks, Jake Gyllenhall, Freddie Prinze Jr.

What American City Are You?

You Have Good Karma

In general, you like to do the right thing when it comes to others. Your caring personality really shines through. Sure, you have your moments of weakness - and occasionally act out. But, all in all, you're karma is good... even with those few dark spots.

How's Your Karma?

The Cure Shares Your Taste in Music

See their whole playlist here (iTunes required)

You Are 60% Happy

You're definitely a happy person, even though you have your down moments. You tend to get the most out of life, though there's always some more happiness to be squeezed.

How Happy Are You?

Something objective...or at least an object

So, I was going to blog about the Bhagavad Gita (yet another book), when I thought to myself that I am tired of talking about books and ideas.

So, I was looking around my house for something concrete to write about. I don't have any flowers. I never do. Charles has never bought flowers for me and I rarely buy them for myself. Part of that is because I hate to think of them dying to stay in my kitchen for a few days. But, they die anyway, so that's a silly excuse.

I only recently made the connection that we send flowers to funerals (traditionally) because they mask the smell of death (thank you Dostoevsky). I also understand the connection between romantic love and flowers -- the sex/reproduction connection is obvious. So, why do we plant them in our yards and cut them and bring them inside? The smell? The aesthetic?

And, why don't I buy flowers for myself? I look at them almost every time I pass them in the grocery store florist. They seem like such a luxury. Yet I allow myself other luxuries ... lots of them. Why not flowers?

So, while I spoil myself in many ways, what I am noticing is that I don't spoil my aesthetic tastes. I don't buy art even though I love it, and I don't buy flowers even though I love them. I somehow think that these are things I am not "worth." But I'm beginning to disagree with myself.

Fake it till you make it

I just read this interesting article on enlightenment by Sally Kempton.

In case you work and don't have time to do all the reading I seem to be doing, she basically says that we can "practice" enlightenment just like we practice piano or being good at our jobs. She says that most of us have glimpses of enlightenment in our lives already. After talking about a particular man who wrote a book on how to find enlightenment, she says:

While this man's experience may sound dramatic, most of us, especially in the yoga community, have glimpsed facets of the enlightened state. If you've stood aside from your own mind and become the witness of your experience, or felt loving toward someone you ordinarily don't like, or stood in nature and sensed the interconnectedness of everything, you've touched one of the flavors of the enlightened state. If you've ever lost yourself completely in a task, in sexual ecstasy or dancing or music, or felt pure happiness or compassion well up for no reason, you've touched enlightenment.

Interesting. I have experienced several of these things. In fact, I have had that experience of witnessing my own mind many, many times. My first husband thought I was crazy when I tried to explain the sensation to him.

So? Well, I'm looking for enlightenment and peace, and this is encouraging. But, if I seem enlightened when you next see me, remember, I may still be faking it.

:)

Simply

What else?

Well, I'm tired of thinking about books and decorating and even moving to Montgomery, for that matter.

When I clear all of that out, it seems that the vault is echoing and nearly empty. But in the back corner, in a shadow, there is a little box. Not anything important, you see, just something that has been sitting there for a while, unnoticed.

So, sitting crossed legged on the dusty floors, I unfold the paper lid, each flap snapping with a crisp untouched sound.

Inside is an idea: a life.

This is an old idea. One I created (or found, more likely) long ago and stuffed away. When I pull it out of the box, I find it odd and a little juvenile. The idea that I might live my life simply: with little impact.

I turn it over in my hands with wonder. I'm not sure why is showed up today. And I'm really not sure what to do with it. But there it is.

The Road -- Another book

Well, one thing about not working: I'm able to get some reading done. Recently, I've read:

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
Native Guard by Natasha Trethewey
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling
The Inheritance of Loss (in progress) by Kiran Desai
The Road by Cormac McCarthy

McCarthy and Trethewey both won Pulitzers this year for their books. Trethewey's Native Guard is the best books of poetry that I've read in the last five years. She is absolutely brilliant. (In case you've forgotten, she is why I went back to Auburn to study -- even though she left for Emory after I accepted my position there, so I did not get to study with her). The McCarthy book is startling. It is good, but difficult. Not in that it is hard to understand, but it is a journey and the journey is a hard one to take. At the end, I wanted something different. But others seem to find his ending hopeful.

I don't know -- the kid drove me crazy. I find it interesting that the very thing that makes me think that Harry must die is the same metaphor that drove me crazy about the child in The Road. And of course, he doesn't ... well, I won't spoil it for you.

Okay. I'm going to think about something else.

Harry Potter Hint

Now, I don't intend to post on HP for the next two weeks. But, it is something I'm thinking a lot about. :)

Reading Wikipedia (yes, what a NERD), I found this quote under the entry for HP:

According to Rowling, a major theme in the series is the theme of death. She says:^[18]

“

My books are largely about death. They open with the death of Harry's parents. There is Voldemort's obsession with conquering death and his quest for immortality at any price, the goal of anyone with magic. I so understand why Voldemort wants to conquer death. We're all frightened of it.

”

So. I think she'll kill him.

She has to.

Harry Potter and other important things

Whew.

C and I spent Saturday and Sunday moving my junk to Montgomery and painting the living room there. It feels good to have most of the work finished. I go back Thursday because the furniture is being delivered. And except for my body and Phoenix's body, a few small things, and my summer clothes, I am moved.

On the other hand, the mood at my house is pretty tense. We now have to face the choices we've made. Reality is no fun to contend with.

On the other hand: I saw the Potter movie (Order of the Phoenix) on Friday -- LOVED it. It is the best one yet. The "children" are better actors now than they were, and this movie allowed the story to be dark. I think maybe they have figured out that this isn't a cute, sweet story. There were a few hokey things here and there, but it was overall an excellent movie. Funny (as I told my co-potter-enthusiast friend) how the worst book made the best movie. Well, it isn't really funny. It always seems that great books are terrible movies and vice versa. I recommend it if you haven't seen it already.

Also, at the Harry Potter movie, they showed a trailer for the movie version of The Golden Compass (to be released in December). OH MY GOD. Looks incredible. Nicole Kidman plays Ms. Coulter and Daniel Craig plays Lord Asriel! A cool website on the film is here. You can answer a short quiz (20 question) and it will tell you what animal your daemon is! Mine is an Osprey

But, of course, the biggest news is that the final Harry Potter book (The Deathly Hallows) will be released on Saturday. I plan go with my co-potter-enthusiast friend to the midnight release party and to read it next weekend. Don't call me or email me or text me. I'll be busy reading. I just can't imagine how Rowling will end this thing and make everyone happy. My predictions?

Well, I think that Harry is the last horcrux and he will have to die in order to kill Voldemort. Dumbledore will be like Obi Wan after he died and "more powerful than ever." In fact, he may have even done something like Lily Potter and protected Harry some sort of "love magic" when he died. Jenny and Neville will be key to helping Harry succeed in this one, and if Rowling has guts, she'll only leave Ron and Hermoine as the survivors. If she doesn't kill Harry, I'll renounce all adoration for the books (unless she is so brilliant that she can think of another way out that doesn't involve "happily ever after"). I promise to give all of you not-as-crazy-as-me readers out there a week or so before I post on the book.

Survey -- Do you like these?

When buying my house, the agent went on and on about the antique lighting fixtures. But I don't like many of them. This one, in the front hall bathroom, is the best of them. I can't decide if I should keep it or not.

What do you think?

All you lurkers out there can answer too!

clean floors

I don't have a diagnosis of OCD, but I have to wonder sometimes...

I have a "thing" about clean floors. So, yesterday I went to the new house and spent the whole day cleaning the floors. Today my back hurts, but somehow I find the experience (not just this time -- but always) cleansing, humbling, and, well, satisfying.

There is not much more humbling that getting down on your hands and knees and scrubbing the places where people walk.

I can't really explain it, but I know that it is an affectionate gesture...to wash a floor. It is like saying to the house...I will take care of you. And, it is, for me, a gift to myself. I love to walk across a clean floor. Then, when I polish the floor, well, that's just showing off.

I didn't take a camera, so I don't have a picture of my shiny, clean floors.

But they are shiny and clean.

I, on the other hand, am feeling a strange pinch in my shoulders. :)

What to say

WORDS

There is really no way to know what to say when.

All I have is my years of experience layered on top of the reactions of other people that I experienced in my childhood when certain phrases came out of my mouth.

Even though I've read lots of books and seen lots of movies since those times, even though I've had years of therapy to help me, I'm never sure what is the proper thing to say in any given situation. And, you know, words are what I study and teach professionally.

It may be because I study them that I find them so daunting. Or perhaps everyone feels this way. I can't know that.

But with life handing me Queen of Spade after Queen of Spade (as if the decks were stacked), I find that the right words might actually be helpful.

How do you know what to say?

How does anyone?

In the water

While I am short on beliefs of faith or spirituality, I tend to think that we are somehow connected to each other and to the other creatures and to the plants and to this planet. I don't know what that connection is, but I think it exists.

For example, when I see misery around me, I feel miserable.

Maybe this explains why so many people like to move out to the suburbs; they like to pretend poverty and crime doesn't exist. If they see it, they have to feel it.

But, it is also true that when one friend gets pregnant, pregnancy tends to spring up like an epidemic. Like it is "is the water," as the old saying goes. When most of your friends are married, the one single friend finds that she feels pressure to find a partner.

It's like our yawns. Our behaviors seem to be contagious.

So, when people I love split with their loved ones, I find myself looking at my own relationship and hoping that I'm not next in line. For, with all our problems and with all the distance that is about to be between us, I'm not ready for a break up.

For those splitting: I send you my love and support.

For the rest of us: stay away from the water.

weekend

What do you do on weekends?

Lately it seems to me that all of our "life work/chores" is saved up for the weekends:

• mowing the grass
• cleaning the floors (sweeping, mopping, vacuuming)
• grocery shopping
• washing the dog
• put mulch in the beds
• dust the furniture
  
• and other such stuff

By the time we get all of this done the sun is going down. So we throw in a movie to watch it, but we fall asleep before the ending. Are we getting old or is it that life is now just a series of chores? Is that what happens as you get older?

And we don't even have children! How do people with children even make it out of bed in the mornings?

I think that I'm a little frustrated by this. I skipped my workout today to mow the grass so that we wouldn't have to do it tomorrow. Suddenly, this chore thing feels a little crazy. Maybe home-ownership is the problem; I don't know. Am I alone here? Is life really all about cleaning and pruning?

Not an interior designer

I've spent the last two weeks trying to furnish my new house. While I guess it should be fun to start from scratch and to buy everything at once, it is a bit overwhelming.

So, after buying and returning quite a few sheet sets, I've decided on this one:

To match this rug:

And this bedroom furniture:



My comments?

I don't know what the hell I am doing or why I am doing it. This is why people hire people to do things.

Anyway. This is also why I'm not blogging much.

Maybe in a few weeks I'll have some pictures of a cool little house. But don't hold your breath.

Thinking/feeling or feeling/thinking

C and I had an interesting discussion yesterday. He claims to be a feeling/thinking person. By that he means that he tends to make decisions based on how he feels more often than how he thinks. Feeling, for him, trumps thinking. I am the opposite. I tend to think first and feel later.

What is odd about this is that I would have thought that we were opposite. I'm the poet, he's the project manager. For instance, this website says:

Thinking vs. Feeling

Thinking is an ability to deal with information on the basis of its structure and its function. Feeling is an ability to deal with information on the basis of its initial energetic condition and its interactions. The most common differences between Thinking and Feeling type are shown below:

Thinking types are interested in systems, structures, patterns expose everything to logical analysis are relatively cold and unemotional evaluate things by intellect and right or wrong have difficulties talking about feelings do not like to clear up arguments or quarrels

Feeling types are interested in people and their feelings easily pass their own moods to others pay great attention to love and passion evaluate things by ethics and good or bad can be touchy or use emotional manipulation often give compliments to please people

I definitely fit the "feeling types." And after taking their test, I found that I am considered a feeling type (a intuitive-ethical type, to be exact). Yet, I think that I make decisions based on thinking, not feeling. The test did say that I am "very aware" of the testing process, so my scores may not be correct. There is that thinking problem again. I want to think I'm emotional, but who knows. I even over-think the test!

Anyway. Which are you?

Independence

As someone that has been fiercely independent most of my life, today I find myself considering what it is we celebrate when we celebrate Independence Day.

There is, of course, that revolutionary document:

When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

That is worth celebration...and worth remembering. We have an obligation to throw off ("alter or abolish") our government when it no longer serves us.

But I have been thinking about independence in a more personal way too. I wonder if we don't hold independence too high in our hierarchy. Maybe dependence -- at least some forms of it -- (or at least inter-dependence) is okay in some forms. Maybe, like with government, we are obligated to uphold our bonds until those bonds no longer serve us. Sometimes, those bonds require us to depend on one another.

So today, as I remember my obligation to keep my government in line, I celebrate my choice to be both independent and not-so-independent.

Enjoy the fireworks.

White Washed

I don't really remember much about the Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I remember reading it, but I was a kid, and being that so many years have passed, most of the details are lost. (Interestingly, when I taught Huckleberry Finn last semester, the students said they preferred Tom Sawyer to Huck Finn. I remember enough to know that I disagree with them).

The scene I remember most is the one where Tom is white washing the fence and then tricks Huck into doing it for him by telling him how much fun it is. It is a complete rip off of the Brer Rabbit story, but that is neither here nor there.

I have been thinking about white washing and the many metaphors within such an action. I'll leave aside the obvious racist possibilities, because I want to think about white washing in terms of paint and color.

What happens when we cover over something? When we cover up? Are we protecting? Escaping? Beautifying?

I've been thinking about and shopping for art lately. Sometimes I play around with paint. In the above pictured thing, I tore up pieces of poems, stuck the pieces on a canvas, painted them in colors, then rubbed white paint over the color. Then I wiped away just enough of the white to see the words and colors through it. I'm not an artist by any stretch, but there is something in the process that I enjoy, even when the product must be hidden away or destroyed.

Still. I come back to white washing: the covering of a surface with diluted white paint to make it pretty without using too much paint. A temporary fix? An exercise in discipline?

No point here really. I just wonder if Huck found something in the action of washing the fence that Tom missed. Maybe not. But I, unlike my students, like Huck better than Tom.