Sun~Flower~Moon

This has been a good summer for spotting sunflower paintings in museums!

Sunflower Tango
by Gina Litherland
Seen in May at the Chazen Museum of Art
University of Wisconsin - Madison

Magically entitled and magically realistic, Litherland's painting is just a touch eerie yet most enchanting. The central figure is mesmerizing from head to toe. I love the way in which her hairstyle is a continuation of the sunflower petals; and those darling yellow dancing shoes are the perfect choice for a tango!

Seated Female Figure Seen from Behind
Pierre Puvis de Chavannes
Seen in July at the Minniapolis Institute of Arts

Chavannes' title -- which could be better! -- pays no mind to the delicate bouquet in the subject's hand. Yet, the sunflowers are what caught my eye in the first place, and they remain the detail -- along with the model's charming French twist (can my hairdresser do that for me?) that makes the painting such an elegant and memorable representation of Botony (see musuem note above).

In my search for just the right words to accompany these painting, I located poems by William Blake, Allen Ginsburg, and Mary Oliver; plus quotations from Oscar Wilde and of course Vincent Van Gogh, who so aptly laid claim: “The sunflower is mine, in a way.”

Not completely satisfied with my results, however, I asked my friends Len and Eileen if either had written any kind of ode to the flower of my birth state. Len said not yet; but I did look through his paintings and took the liberty of naming this one in honor of my quest for a late summer sunflower poem:

Late Summer Sunflowers ~ Leonard Orr

Eileen sent me these inspiring words from Theodore Roethke: "Deep in their root, all flowers keep the light." Yes, deep inside, we all do! She also overheard my wish that I could find a source identifying the Full August Moon as the Sunflower Moon! Well, I'm an authority, right? Could I just make that claim? Eileen's advice: "Self-authorize, woman!" Time to renounce the "self - effacing" and embrace "self-inscribing" (for more on these terms, see Robert Kegan and Thaisa Frank).

So, in the spirit of self - authorizing and nostalgic narrative therapy, I hereby write my own sunflower poem and re - christen the August moon:

A Sunflower Haiku:
A Kan - Sun by birth
Full August Sunflower Moon
Flower to live by

Moonrise, 20 August 2013, 9pm

Moonshadow

"Did it take long to find me?
I asked the faithful light.
Did it take long to find me?
And are you gonna stay the night?
Oh I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow,
moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow,
moonshadow, moonshadow . . . "

Moonshadow!

words & music
by Cat Stevens, aka Yusuf Islam
Stevens "considers 'Moonshadow' his favourite of his old songs."

*************************
Late - night literary repartee . . .

Len: Nostalgic narrative theory.

Elieen: I thought for a sec you said "therapy."

Kitti: Nostalgic narrative therapy* -- I feel better already.

************************
A couple of authors who seem to understand
the concept of nostalgic narrative theory / therapy . . .

Cat Stevens: "Some say there are only two kinds of stories:
those about leaving home and those about coming back."

Jopseph Addison: "The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth / Repeats the story of her birth."

************************

The Spacious Firmament on High

The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame
Their great Original proclaim.
Th’unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator’s powers display,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty Hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,**
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth;
While all the stars that round her burn
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
What though no real voice nor sound
Amid the radiant orbs be found?
In reason’s ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing as they shine,
"The hand that made us is divine.”

by Joseph Addison
set to the music "Creation" ~ by Franz Josef Hayden

August Full Moon:
Sometimes called the Fruit Moon, When All Things Ripen

Moonrise, 20 August 2013, 9pm

RE *Nostalgic Narrative Therapy
& **Wondrous Tales:"If you have a story that seems worth telling, and you think you can tell it worthily, then the thing for you to do is tell it, regardless of whether it has to do with sex, sailors, or mounted policemen." ~Dashiell Hammett

Pastiche

To collage the classics. To repurpose. Two weeks ago, I concluded my Fortnightly blog post with a promise (to Eileen) to look further into these concepts. Here, for example, is the visual collage that I created in my undergraduate Women's Studies Class, a successful completion of the assignment, I'm sure:

However, it became a problem when I took a similar approach to my written work as well. I was warned against the pastiche: "literary patchworks formed by piecing together extracts from various works by one or several authors" (A Handbook to Literature, Holman & Harmon). But I liked the pastiche! And I like that if comes from the French pastiche = "a medley made up of fragments from different works" . . . and from the Italian pasticcio = "medley, pastry, cake, pasta, paste." Which brings us to collage = "a pasting." Perfect!

Last time, it was a bouquet of flowers; this time it's a tea tray of pastries. Sweet! Who could object? The pastiche may be derivative but Wikipedia assures us that the pastiche celebrates! And so does my friend Paula!

Check out my new post for more on the Pastiche!

Wine the Magi Brought

A range of reds from Ben McCartney's Wine Tasting Album
As the Season of Epiphany comes to a close, what a comfort to think that the magi brought not just gold, frankincense and myrrh but also wine.

And how fitting to encounter ~ courtesty of my friend Eileen ~ these words from Rumi: "in that moment, you will know."

Birdcatcher, the birds you want are thirsty,
so you open the wine vat and let the fragrance draw us.
This is the wine the magi brought as a gift,
and the wine musk that led them.

There are certain night-wanderers
that you especially want. Not the drunkards,
and not the ones who just carry cups to others.

This is how it is to come near you.
A wave of light builds in the black pupil
of the eye. The old become young.

The opening lines of the Qur'an open still more.
Inside every human chest is a hand, but it has nothing
to write with. Love moves further in where
language turns to fresh cream on the tongue.

Every accident, and the essence of every being,
is a bud, a blanket
tucked into a cradle, a closed mouth.

All these buds will blossom.
In that moment you will know what your grief was,
and how the seed you planted has been miraculously growing.

I saw grief drinking a cup of sorrow
and called out,
It tastes sweet, does it not?

You have caught me, grief answered,
and you have ruined my business.

How can I sell sorrow,
when you know it's a blessing?

~ Rumi ~



"An unoaked French Chardonnay
from the Louis Jadot Macon Villages.
It smelled grassy and citrusy
and tasted the same.
I have problems describing the
gentler wines, but this one
finished warm and wine-y."
~ Ben McCartney ~

Cempasuchil

Cempasuchil ~ The Marigold
[sem-pa-soo-cheel]
On a day like today, you can find many beautiful images of the marigold (flor de muerto) and its celebratory role in observations of the Mexican Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos). The displays range from a modest vase or basketful to elaborately woven wreaths and floats . . . to the entirely unintentional, as was the case a couple of days ago when my friend Eileen and I pulled together our very own found art arrangement in the aftermath of the World Series parade.
Eileen finds everything we need!

Black and orange ticker tape filled the sky and the streets of downtown San Francisco, but what caught our eye a few blocks off the beaten path was a humble pile of crushed marigold petals right there on the sidewalk. Nearby were a couple of stems that had remained intact and, to complete our I Spy photo shoot, a bright orange plastic disc featuring a "G" for "Giants" . . . or is that merely a Gatorade lid? Well, no matter, we were ultra - pleased with our arrangement and left it behind for those who followed in our footsteps to admire!
Whatever else you may think about the Giants,
you have to admit that they've definitely
got the right team colors for
a Halloween Day Victory Parade!

Photo Album:
San Francisco, Giants Parade, Halloween, All Souls

Previous Posts for Día de los Muertos:

2009: "Day of the Dead"

2010: "All Souls, Never Alone"

2010: "From Dust Thou Art"

And a Thought for the Day from Socrates:

"To fear death, my friends,
is only to think ourselves wise, without being wise:
for it is to think that we know what we do not know.
For anything that we can tell, death may be
the greatest good that can happen to us:
but we fear it as if we knew quite well
that it was the greatest of evils.
And what is this but that shameful ignorance
of thinking that we know what we do not know?"

Three Things, One Direction

Consider the squash blossoms, how they grow;
they toil not, neither do they spin:
And yet . . . even Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like one of these!
(a gentle revision from Matthew 6: 28 - 29, KJV)
Thanks to my friend Eileen for sharing the following inspirational words of practical wisdom from one of her heroes, Mark Nepo:

"Consider three things you must do today. Carefully put two down. Immerse yourself in the one thing that is left."

"Live deeply enough and there is only one direction."

*************************************************
A couple more related thoughts from the sixth chapter of Matthew:

I am usually loyal to the KJV in all things literary, but when it comes to Matthew 6: 27, I think I prefer hours to cubits:

27 Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? (KJV)

27 And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?" (NRSV)

then there's the classic:

34: Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. (KJV)

And finally, how about this cool vocabulary
word that Gerry came across last week:

overmorrow (Middle English) or übermorgen (German) which literally translates to "overmorrow" and means "the day after tomorrow."

Who knew? Looks like I'll be writing a new post overmorrow!

No End

We will say this poem again and again . . .
there is no end to anything round."

These words of wisdom from Rumi
& my friend Eileen S. H.
appear on my latest fortnightly post
"This Year's Words"

Read more on
The Fortnightly Kitti Carriker:
A Fortnightly [every 14th & 28th] Literary Blog of
Connection & Coincidence; Custom & Ceremony

NEW POST TOMORROW
"SAY MOON"

Pilobolus, Punctum, Yellow Squash

Yellow Squash, yellow bowl

Pear as punctum*

As Ben used to say when he was little: "More too many!"

When I first posted the above series of yellow squash photos, my friend Eileen told me that she couldn't help thinking of her amazingly flexible flying friend

Adam Battelstein
and the

Pilobolus dancers
Even in black and white, you can see what she means, can't you? I was so intrigued that I had to learn more about the art of this talented touring non-profit modern dance troupe! Naturally, I was delighted to discover this next photograph . . . in the shape of a star, yes . . . but definitely the color of a yellow summer squash!

Pilobolus at the 2007 Academy Awards

Click here to see Pilobolus in Action
Learn More
*Punctum is French critic Roland Barthes' intriguing term for that touching or disconcerting detail which pierces through the still life, the object, or the studium. Rather than the usual sequence of subject first, object second, for Barthes, the "second element which will disturb the studium I shall therefore call punctum; for punctum is also: sting, speck, cut, little hole – and also a cast of the dice. A photograph’s punctum is that accident which pricks me (but also bruises me, is poignant to me)" (Barthes, Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography, 27).

As Eileen says, "great pear, just there."

P.S. Yes, we have no bananas -- kind of like squash!

P.P.S. See also:
"The Lughnasa Moon"
"The Handwriting on the Wall"
"This Little World, This England"
"Pear as Punctum"