In which Your Faithful Blogger, stuck inside due to inclement weather, reads, writes, and reflects on the following:
Michael Pollan’s terrific “Why Bother?” in the April 20th “Green Issue” of The New York Times Magazine. (April 20? I’m running behind; what can I say…)
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As I gazed into the woods behind our house, I took in for the first time how quickly the trees have leafed out. There are no evergreens back there, so in the winter it’s all bare branches and spindly trunks. There’s a footpath just beyond, though, and I like to watch people walking their dogs. This becomes increasingly difficult once the leafing out process nears completion.
Anyway, all of this put me in mind of a painting by Rene Magritte. It’s called “Le blanc-seing,” which roughly translates as “free hand” or “free rein:”
I first heard of this artist when The Museum of Modern Art put on a major retrospective of his works. This was a long time ago. Magritte died in 1967; he may have been still living at the time of this exhibit. Some scoffed at the paintings, calling them gimmicky; I thought it was the most fun I’d ever had in a museum! Here’s why:
[From top to bottom: The Lovers, The Listening Room, The Sirens, Time Transfixed, The Menaced Assassin]
Born in the province of Hainaut, Rene Magritte lived for most of his life in Brussels. He’s right up there with Georges Simenon and Hercule Poirot in my personal pantheon of favorite Belgians.
[Rene Magritte, photographed by Lothar Wolleh in Brussels, 1967]
On the DVD front, we watched one of the Ruth Rendell Mysteries, “Orchard Walls.” Set in wartime, this is a gripping tale of illicit love and lost innocence. And it features an early performance by an actress whose artless appeal has captivated fans of PBS’s Foyle’s War: Honeysuckle Weeks.
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I was deeply moved by today’s post on the blog The Other World.
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I have now encountered the use of the 2004 tsunami as a plot device in two recent works of fiction: Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri and The Water’s Lovely by Ruth Rendell. In an interesting instance of synchronicity, I encountered yet another mention of that terrible disaster yesterday in Susan Jacoby’s masterful The Age of American Unreason. In a chapter entitled “Middlebrow Culture from Noon to Twilight,” Jacoby discusses authors like Allen Drury, Irving Stone and James Michener. In a footnote, she writes:
I immediately thought of Hawaii when I read about the number of lives lost in the December 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami because many people, watching the tide suddenly recede, had walked out to see the creatures and coral formations revealed on the ocean floor, only to have the tsunami wave return with deadly force. Michener describes a similar scene in his novel.
So I had returned to my hotel in the late afternoon, after an intense several hours spent at the Metropolitan Museum Art. It had been one epiphany after another: the fabulous Courbet exhibit, followed by the equally fabulous Poussin exhibit - I went through both of them twice - lunch with Helene, one of my dearest and closest friends - a quick walk through the mysteries and beauties of the Asian wing, and finally, a taxi ride back, through the noisy, pungent chaos of the streets of New York. (Please, please institute congestion pricing, Mayor Bloomberg - sooner rather than later. Whence comes the perverse sense of entitlement that impels people to bring their vehicles into a city with such a comprehensive system of mass transit?)
Anyway - as I said, I’m back at my hotel. It’s about five o’clock and my head aches, as do my feet, and I feel grimy and exhausted…ah, New York, playground of my youth, do I need any better proof that I have left that youth far behind me? But wait..WAIT!! The headache abates, the energy flows back, the spring returns to my step.. and lo! I am getting a second wind!
Out I go again, bending my steps toward the Museum of Modern Art on 53rd Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues. But before I get there, I hear the siren song, and I am seduced, utterly vanquished…by Bergdorf Goodman’s justly famous display windows!
Bergdorf’s has had a presence on Fifth Ave. and 58th for as long as I can remember. But somehow, it seems to have grown exponentially.
Well, I couldn’t resist: I went inside. And Lo! I was greeted with blazing light, and bags and jewelry and more bags and more jewelry. And so, seeking to establish my bona fides as a smart, sophisticated shopper whose resources, while not exactly unlimited, are not paltry, either, I saunter over to one of the jewelry counters and announce: “I need gold earrings to wear to my son’s wedding in June.” (Aha! I finally found the ideal placement for that incredibly important nugget of info!)
“Oh, here’s a very nice pair, and they’re nicely priced, too,” says the saleswoman - oops, sorry, the sales associate - as she pulls out a nice, decidedly unremarkable pair of gold earrings. “How much?” I ask. The response: “Two thousand -” Please pardon the dash. I never heard the rest. And speaking of dashes, I performed one then and there, right out of that department! I fared no better with the bags, repeatedly encountering four numbers to the left of the decimal point.
Here, for instance, is one of the famous, fabulous Leiber bags. I do love it, but for $3,695.00 ?? Alas, I think not… And so I passed dolefully from the premises. So much for the Sophisticated Shopper!
Farewell, O Temple of High End Consumerism! Now we’re off to MOMA!!
I was eight years old when my mother first took me to this museum. It was then, like me, ever so much smaller. I recall walking up a winding staircasee and finding myself in a room with two paintings by Henri Rousseau, “Le Douanier”: The Dream and The Sleeping Gypsy. For almost my whole life I have carried their images with me in my mind’s eye. So…I wonder..Where are they now?
MoMa has become HUGE!! The lobby alone is a vast, echoing space. Lucky, too, because it was wall to wall people - noisy, crowded, and very festive. This was probably at least partly due to the fact that it was a “Target Free Friday Night,” meaning that admission is free on Friday evenings from four until closing at eight. (As a rule, I’m no fan of big box stores, but I really admire Target’s numerous philanthropic initiatives.)
I go up the main staircase - walking over a delightfully colorful installation - and no, it was not a mistake; it’s on the floor! - and instead of Rousseau’s two dreamy paintings, I see an object that resembles a table fan swinging crazily from the ceiling some six floors above. I would say it was a pendulum, except that it kept changing direction. At its lowest point, it was about ten feet from the floor; when it came toward you, you ducked instinctively, even though there was no danger. There was something inexplicably exhilarating about this installation; I laughed out loud and so did many others around me. Is it art? Well, you could debate that question. Is it fun? Definitely! (Something else that’s fun, and very cleverly executed, is the online exhibition “Color Chart.”)
For whatever reason, I was not able to find the swinging fan on the MoMa site; neither could I find its name in the atrium where it swung so merrily. I believe it’s called Ventilator and that it is by Olafur Eliasson, who is described in Wikipedia as a Danish/Icelandic artist. Eliasson recently had an exhibit at the San Francisco Museum of Art called “Take Your Time.” Here’s the Ventilator as it was seen there, where they apparently had it installed in the lobby of the museum.
There were many other objects of interest in the second floor. (Notice my reluctance to term them “art works.”) Some were intriguing; others seemed simply bizarre. But in this temple to the modern and the postmodern, I found one work with roots that go back thousands of years. I stood before it dumbstruck, with a very strong sensation that I was destined to be standing there in front of it. It is called “Crowhurst;” the image, created by artist Tacita Dean , depicts a yew tree in Surry, in South East England, that is thought to be four thousand years old.
Dean has said that she was fascinated by this ancient tree and also drawn to its name because of the story of Donald Crowhurst. Crowhurst participated in a round-the-world yacht race in 1968. His craft, a trimaran, was found adrift; he himself was nowhere to be found. The mystery of his disappearance has never been solved, although current thinking apparently holds that he committed suicide.
I read The Strange Last Voyage of Donald Crowhurst when it was first published in 1970, and I have never forgotten this strange, disturbing story. (Neither apparently have many others; see the section on “Literary and dramatic treatment” in the Wickipedia entry.)
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After standing for some time before Tacita Dean’s stunning work, I roused myself and headed up to the fifth floor. There, I had been assured, is where I would find my old friends. And, sure enough, there they were…
Broadway Boogie Woogie, by Piet Mondrian (Years ago I owned a dress whose print pattern looked alot like this painting!)
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I and the Village, by Marc Chagall
There are many, many more. But I must reserve a place apart for the paintings by Henri Rousseau, as they are so dear to me:
The Sleeping Gypsy; and below, The Dream
I have to say that I’m somewhat disappointed as to the current placement of these works. The Sleeping Gypsy was hung rather unimaginatively on a plain white wall in the middle of numerous other works, some interesting, some not. And The Dream, inexplicably placed alone on a wall near the cafeteria, is now behind glass. While this insures that catsup won’t be inadvertently sprayed on it, the resulting glare makes for difficult viewing.
Possibly due to my (mild) annoyance concerning the above situation, I was especially delighted, when I later got around to reading that day’s New York Times, to find a delicious tale of irreverence entitled, “At the Modern, Art in a New York Minute.”
I have long appreciated the arts coverage in the Washington Post. In today’s Style section, we learn that Jenny Uglow’s biography of the engraver Thomas Bewick [1753-1828] has won the National Award for Arts Writing. This award that was created last year by the Arts Club of Washington. Until now I was unaware of this group, but I am fervently in favor of any individual or organization that advocates for the arts.
According to one of the judges, Nancy Pearl, the writing in Nature’s Engraver is “down to earth and yet transporting.” Pearl comments further that the book “brings this time period alive in a way that even the best historical fiction sometimes fails to do.”
This observation is right on the money. I read the book last summer and fell completely under its spell. Here is my review of Nature’s Engraver. I’ve included some examples of Thomas Bewick’s enchanting works of art.
Nicholas Poussin lived from 1594 to 1665. Although French by birth, he spent most of his creative life in Rome. Read more about his life and art at one of my favorite online destinations, the Web Gallery of Art.
Enter “Nicholas Poussin and Nature” and you enter another world. Strange myths and stories from the Bible come to life; they are set against a backdrop of fabulous trees and sky and monumental structures from antique lands that may, or may not, have once existed.
In the catalogue that accompanies this exhibition, Pierre Rosenberg, in his essay “Encountering Poussin,” quotes the following from an essay by Jacques de Cambry that was first published in 1783:
‘All the Landscapes of this great Man [Poussin] have a character of majesty that is all his own: always simple, he does not divert himself by seeking and assembling so many small effects of light, by drawing small jets of water, little waterfalls; all the riches of Egyptian and Greek Architecture, all the tranquil and sublime beauties of Nature are transposed into his paintings. Always there is an interesting Episode that speaks to the soul, that indicates the emotion that the Viewer should experience; it is Diogenes in the outskirts of Athens, breaking a useless cup, after seeing a young man drink from the hollow of his hand. It is Saint John, amid the ruins and ravages of time, writing the Gospel. It is an old man under a leafy tree, giving himself up to philosophical reflections, after having hung up the arms and the lyre of his youth, in the tree that lends him its shade.’
And now, feast your eyes…
Landscape with Orpheus and Eurydice. She’s about to receive a fatal snake bite, poor thing, but Orpheus, her oblivious lover, just keeps singing and playing.
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Landscape with Diogenes
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Landscape with St. John on Patmos
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Summer, or Ruth and Boaz
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Blind Orion Searching for the Rising Sun
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And finally, a painting long known to me but never actually seen until now:
The Arcadian shepherds, or Et in Arcadia Ego
Arcadia represents a place of pastoral beauty and peace. The phrase “Et in Arcadia Ego” has been taken to mean “Even in Arcadia, I - meaning Death - am here.” It is what is called a memento mori, a reminder of inevitable death. As in “The paths of glory lead but to the grave,” from Thomas Gray’s Elegy Written in aCountry Churchyard; also “In the midst of life we be in death” from The Book of Common Prayer.
The “Met” currently features special exhibitions on two extraordinary French painters: Gustave Courbet and Nicholas Poussin. I went to see the Courbets first. I had read an article in the Washington Post by Blake Gopnik, on whose discernment in such matters I depend; he described the exhibit as “jaw-dropping.” It is.
Born in 1819 in the village of Ornans in the Franch-Comte, a region in the north east of France, Courbet came to Paris to paint in 1840. He immediately set about smashing icons and in the process infuriating the critics, a staid and stuffy lot, from all appearances. He lived large, becoming quite large himself in the process.
Courbet painted everything from portraits (including quite a few of himself), landscapes, seascapes, hunting scenes, and nudes ( some just this side of pornographic) with a breathtaking combination of abandon and precision. To wit:
The Young Ladies of the Village
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The Desperate Man
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Woman with a Parrot
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The Wounded Man
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The Meeting or Bonjour, Monsiuer Courbet
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River Landscape
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Flowers
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The Stormy Sea or The Wave
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Chateau de Chillon [Yes - This is the same Chillon that inspired Lord Byron's two poems, "Sonnet on Chillon" and "The Prisoner of Chillon." The latter is a narrative poem of great power. See the final stanza below*]
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In his later years, Courbet became involved in politics - defiantly and disastrously - and joined the short-lived Paris Commune in 1871. Having survived six months in prison, he was then forced into exile in Switzerland, where he died in 1877.
While at the Met, I purchased the DVD entitled Gustave Courbet, made in France last year (possibly in conjunction with the exhibit at the Musee D’Orsay. See Jonathan Jones’s eloquent review in The Guardian.) We watched it last night. It is beautifully done.
Among other things, we see in this film lovely views of Ornans, which appear essentially unchanged since Courbet’s time. Something to be thankful for, in addtion to an astounding body of work by this genius painter.
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*Final stanza of “The Prisoner of Chillon,” by George Gordon, Lord Byron:
It might be months, or years, or days–
I kept no count, I took no note,
I had no hope my eyes to raise,
And clear them of their dreary mote.
At last men came to set me free;
I ask’d not why, and reck’d not where,
It was at length the same to me,
Fetter’d or fetterless to be,
I learn’d to love despair.
And thus when they appear’d at last,
And all my bonds aside were cast,
These heavy walls to me had grown
A hermitage–and all my own!
And half I felt as they were come
To tear me from a second home:
With spiders I had friendship made,
And watch’d them in their sullen trade,
Had seen the mice by moonlight play,
And why should I feel less than they?
We were all inmates of one place,
And I, the monarch of each race,
Had power to kill–yet, strange to tell!
In quiet we had learn’d to dwell–
My very chains and I grew friends,
So much a long communion tends
To make us what we are:–even I
Regain’d my freedom with a sigh.
Every time a new issue of British Heritage arrives, I make myself put off reading it until I can’t stand it any more. I can be certain that I’m in for a treat once my self-control gives way, but I have to say that the May 2008 issue is really exceptional. For one thing, there are so many fascinating news items in the “Dateline” section at the beginning of the magazine that I have yet to move on to the longer articles at the heart of this splendid publication!
First, there’s the piece on Sherwood Forest, which used to comprise some 100,000 acres. Alas, it has presently shrunk to a mere 450! Think how exposed Robin of Locksley and his Merry Band would have felt amid such reduced acreage. But efforts are underway to renew and reinvigorate this storied place. The forest still contains 997 old-growth oak trees. And when they say old, they’re not kidding; these trees can live 900 years. These oaks are carefully tended. Pride of place among their number goes to the Major Oak.
The Major Oak, as it currently appears
The Major Oak, with supports digitally removed
And before we go on to other things, have a look at the annual Robin Hood Festival.
Next, interesting news from the art world: Sotheby’s auctioned a J.M.W. Turner water-color for a cool $6 million. Formerly owned by various members of the Vanderbilt family, Bamborough Castle had not been seen publicly since 1889. Meanwhile, a Faberge egg containing a clock fetched an even cooler $18.5 million at Christie’s. This exquisite timepiece, commissioned by the Rothschild family in 1905, is now the highest-priced ever Russian objet d’art.
A sensational treasure trove of “Romano-British artifacts” has been found at the bottom of a well at a place called Draper’s Gardens in London. According to Jenny Hall, the curator of Roman London at the Museum of London, “Nothing like this has ever been found in London before, or anywhere else in Britain.”
Now - on to the Royals. Yes - I do interest myself in their doings, I freely admit to it! Queen Elizabeth has a new grandson, the second child born to Prince Edward and Sophie, Countess of Wessex. (He was actually born right before Christmas. We across the pond here are a tad late getting the news - or, at least, I am.) The little tyke will be known as James Windsor, Viscount Severn.
Finally, two items about Scotland. First: plans are under way for a gathering of the Scottish clans next year. Called, not unexpectedly, The Gathering, the event will be part of a larger celebration called Homecoming Scotland. Prince Charles will be the royal patron. This exciting series of events has all the makings of a party to end all parties!
The Gathering will feature massed pipe bands, Highland games, live music, Scottish Highland dancing, and much more.
Finally, news of the Helix Project, the purpose of which is to “…fund a new section of the Forth and Clyde Canal connecting the canal to the Firth of Forth.”
The Firth of Forth
In addition, approximately twenty miles of paths for walking and cycling are planned, and some 750,000 trees will be planted. As if all this wasn’t sufficiently exciting, a sculpture consisting of two enormous horse heads is slated to be the crowning glory of the Helix Project. This massive installation, designed by sculptor Andy Scott, will be about one hundred feet high. The inspiration for this work is the kelpie, defined by Mysterious Britain as “…the supernatural shape-shifting water horse that haunts the rivers and streams of Scotland.”
Prototype of The Kelpies
I speak as an outsider who has spent very little time there, but it seems to me that the spirit of Scotland, animated by a justified pride in that country’s distinguished heritage and bright future, is on the rise. My husband and I felt that we were standing at the heart of this resurgence when we visited Edinburgh this past fall. While there, we toured the new Scottish Parliament building and learned the story of its creation, a stirring tale of triumph mixed with tragedy, like something out of a novel.
I’ve just brought home the art book to end all art books: 30,000 Years of Art. It’s subtitled The storyof human creativity across time and space and is published by Phaidon, the venerable art book publisher. I should say more accurately that I carted him home. This splendid tome is three inches thick and weighs in at just under fifteen pounds. It’s the ultimate coffee table book - just make sure the coffee table is of sturdy construction!
The first work is The Lion Man of Hohlenstein-Stadel. Carved from mammoth ivory, the Lion Man was found in the caves of the Altmuhl valley in southern Germany. It dates from 28,000 B.C.
The book’s approach to art history is global and chronological. This results in fascinating and provocative juxtapositions. For instance, the following works, all listed as c. A.D. 750, appear on consecutive pages:
The Smiling Celebrant, a painted terracotta figurine, Mexico;
The Flying Dragon, gilt bronze, China;
Church of St. Stephen mosaic, Jordan;
Tangelgarda Picture Stone, Sweden;
Crucifixion with Saints Longinus and Stephen, a parchment from Ireland;
Zodiac Figure of a Boar, Korea;
Dinwoody Petroglyphs, USA.
Many famous works are included here, but the real joy comes from discovering previously unknown, stunning objets d’art. My favorite example so far is the Lamentation over the Dead Christ by Niccolo dell’Arca.
This sculpture group, dated, incredibly, about 1463, is in the Church of Santa Maria della Vita in Bologna, Italy.
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Many of the art books I’ve purchased over the years are exhibition catalogues. Four of my particular favorites among these are:
Manet/Velasquez: The French Taste for Spanish Painting (Metropolitan Museum of Art). This exhibition had more fabulous art per square foot than any I have ever attended. Here are some of the masterworks that were on display the memorable day that I was there:
Above, left to right: The Forge of Vulcan, Velasquez; Old Woman Poaching Eggs, Velasquez; Saint Francis in Meditation, Zurbaran]]]]
Above, left to right: Menippus, Velasquez; A Philosopher (Beggar in a Cloak), Manet; The Dwarf Don Diego de Acedoa “ElPrimo“, Velasquez
It is hard to find adequate vocabulary for singing the praises of the astounding Diego Rodriguez de Silva y Velasquez (1599-1660).
And BTW - one of my favorite works of historical fiction is about this painter as seen through the eyes of his manservant and fellow artist, Juan de Pareja (above, in a portrait by Velasquez).
This luminous novel, by Elizabeth Borton de Trevino, is entitled I, Juan de Pareja. It won the Newberry Award in 1966; I recommend it for readers of all ages.
UU Samuel Palmer: Visionand Landscape (also the Met). When I first read about the upcoming Samuel Palmer retrospective, I had never heard of this 19th century British artist. I didn’t “get” these works at first; they seemed childlike and bizarre. But gradually I began to see the way in which Palmer’s paintings penetrate the mystical heart of rural England. and then, of course, I was well and truly hooked!
Left to right: Self-Portrait; Harvest Moon; The Magic Apple Tree; Coming from Evening Church
Americans in Paris 1860-1900 (yet again, the Met). I had a really fabulous experience with this particular exhibit: well, several fabulous experiences, actually. First off, the museum was letting members in a half hour before opening to the general public. I got there at 9:10, flashed my membership card, and sprinted through to the exhibit. Once there, I and two other people found ourselves standing before spectacular canvases by John Singer Sargent, James Abbott MacNeil Whistler, and others. The paintings hung in solitary splendor as we few gazed upon them and felt transported back to the world of Edith Wharton and Henry James.
Top row, left to right: Woman in an Interior, Julius Leblanc Stewart; Mrs. Henry White (Margaret StuyvesantRutherford), Jon Singer Sargent; La Mere (Mother and Child), Elizabeth Nourse; The Thankful Poor, Henry Ossawa Tanner
Middle row, left to right: Self Portrait, Ellen Day Hale; Afternoon in the Cluny Garden Paris, Charles Courtney Curran; Little Girl in a Blue Armchair, Mary Cassatt
Bottom row, left to right: Sita and Sarita (Jeune Fille au Chat), Cecilia Beaux; A Rose, Thomas P. Anshutz; Woman with aGlove, Carolus-Duran; Portrait of Carolus-Duran, John Singer Sargent
You can see quite a bit in a half hour. I stayed on at the museum until early afternoon; when I left, the lobby was a mob scene.
This exhibition featured many of my favorite artists of the period, such as the above named Sargent and Whistler. I also discovered many new ones, including quite a few women (in addition to the justly famed Mary Cassatt) and an African-American, Henry Ossawa Tanner, whose personal story is as remarkable as his paintings.
Portrait of Henry Ossawa Tanner by Thomas Eakins
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Finally, Fra Angelico, also at the Metropolitan. These profoundly beautiful paintings bespeak another world, one in which faith and beauty exist together in a radiant peace. If ever art could fulfill the soul’s deepest yearning, surely Fra Angelico shows us the path!
Left to right: The Day of Judgement; The Annunciation; The Flight into Egypt
The Adoration of the Magi, The Cook Tondo
How do I love thee, Metropolitan Museum of Art; let me count the ways. Here’s one of them: The Princesse de Broglie by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres. (Don’t you just yearn to reach out and touch the fabric of that dress?)
The Illustrated Cottage is by Niña Williams, with Photographs by Keith Scott Morgan and Murals and Illustrations by Barb Fisher and Laura Chappell.
Well, you’ll say, this is quite the collaborative effort, n’est-ce pas? Mais, bien sûr, is it ever! Williams has made her cottage dwelling into an hommage to Provence, that storied region of France beloved by so many. The odd thing - or, one of the odd things about this project - is that at the time that it was conceived and launched, Niña Williams had never been to Provence. So, the decoration of this house is meant to embody a sort of Provence of the mind.
(One mystifying aspect of this book had to do with the actual location of the “Illustrated Cottage.” I had to turn to a review source in order to find out that it’s in Denver.)
The murals are not simply scenes of the region; rather, with the assistance of trompe l’oeil artists Barb Fisher and Laura Chappell, Williams has fashioned a narrative, replete with various characters who have their own stories. We begin with a mural of the beautiful young Severine, in a dreamy contemplative mood. Then we see her out for a stroll with her her lover Robert. Other murals depict Maurice, an elderly gentleman, and his robust wife Celeste. Delphine is the French-American cousin. Nina herself appears toward the end of the tale, as does Ariane, the younger sister modeled on Williams’s own daughter.
In the introduction, Williams offers the following explanation:
“I planned the decoration from several points of view: house as autobiography; house as fairy tale; and house as French fantasy. Here I should state vehemently that the cottage is far from being a purist statement on French and Provençal design. Although some elements are French, the furnishings throughout are an extremely eclectic, personal gathering of art, antiques, and objects from all over the world assembled to suggest a story set in Provence.”
She adds that her design concepts were greatly influenced by the work of Swedish artist Carl Larsson:
It is very difficult to convey the riches of this idiosyncratic little volume without the accompanying visuals. In addition to the murals, there are photographs of the furnishings and accent pieces. The photography, like the cottage itself, is superb. The trompe l’oeil is so cunningly done, it is downright disorienting; there are times when it’s difficult to distinguish the real from the imaginary. I think that was part of the plan. If so, it succeeds brilliantly!
Escaping Criticism by Pere Borrell del Caso (1874) is a frequently seen example of trompe l’oeil painting:
For more examples of art that tricks the eye, see Wikipedia.
A while back, I ended a post with a reference to Celtic mythology, which had nothing to do with what I’d been writing about. I said I’d get back to the subject of the Celts and never did. Well - here it is again…
I have in my possession two wonderful Pitkin Guides on this subject. One is simply called The Celts; the other is CelticMyths & Legends. What are Pitkin Guides? They are booklets on various topics related to Great Britain. Here are some other titles: The Black Death, Britain’s Kings & Queens, Dissolution of the Monasteries, Dungeons & Torture, Coats ofArms, King Arthur, and Jack the Ripper. As can be seen, they will, and do, tackle just about anything.
The Guides run to about twenty pages a piece. They are lavishly illustrated. Some, not all, provide brief bibliographies. The text is lively and accessible; I think they would be great for classroom use. Fleet Street Press* charges $6.00 a piece for most of the guides. So far I’ve amassed about thirty of them!
Anyway - back to the Celts. Here’s a quote from Celtic Myths & Legends: “In Ireland, there still exists a huge collection of ancient topographical stories, known as Dindshenchas (Landlore), that relate the mythology of the land itself - its trees, hills, rivers anf cliffs, each with its own tale of magic - and of the gods, goddesses and heroes of the Celtic people.” One of the beliefs was that there was another world, the Otherworld, to which one may gain entry at certain secret places, at certain times of the year. In ancient Rome, some believed that Britain itself was the actual location of the Otherworld:
“When the historian and geographer Procopius describes the island that he called ‘Brittia,’ he makes it clear that this is no ordinary place and tells how the fishermen of Brittany are called upon to ferry the dead across the sea to Cornwall. Although they can see nothing of their passengers, their boats are heavy on the way out but light and empty on the way home.”
[Left to right: The Lady of Shalott, by John Waterhouse; The Beguiling of Merlin, by Edward Burne-Jones; The Damsel of the Sanct Grail, by Dante Gabriel Rosetti. For more art based on Arthurian legends, see the King Arthur Art Gallery]
I recommend Philip Freeman’s book The Philosopher and the Druids: A Journey Among the Ancient Celts. The author relates the history of this endlessly fascinating tribe through the eyes of the Greek philosopher Posidonius. A bold and resourceful traveler, Posidonius journeyed deep into Gaul in search of the truth about the Celts. In antiquity, they were thought to be savages, possibly even cannibals, but the truth that Posidonius uncovered was something else altogether: “…the Celts were not barbarians, but a sophisticated people who studied the stars, composed beautiful poetry, and venerated a priestly caste known as the Druids.”
Philip Freeman, currently the Qualley Professor of Classics at Luther College in Iowa, has an interesting CV. He was the first person to earn a Ph.D. at Harvard in the combined fields of classics and Celtic Studies. He is also a former visiting scholar at Harvard Divinity School.
I read The Philosopher and the Druids last year, and I’ve had the Pitkin Guides for several years. What has revived my interested in this subject is the discovery of some marvelously imaginative paintings by the Scottish artist John Duncan (1866-1945). Duncan is renowned as the foremost painter of the late 19th century’s Celtic Revival movement.
[Left to right: A Masque of Love, The Riders of the Sidhe, Saint Bride]
What, I wonder, accounts for the spell that Celtic lore and legend continues to cast over the collective imagination of the Western world?
Two-headed idol, Boa Island, Lough Erne, County Fermanagh, Ireland
Alderley Edge, Cheshire, England. The face of Merlin?
Niel Gow, by Henry Raeburn (1756-1823). In Scottish Art (Thames & Hudson, 2000), Murdo Macdonald tells us that “Raeburn creates an enduring icon of Scottish musicianship in this portrait of a fiddler whose music is still played today.”
Isabella McLeod, Mrs. James Gregory, by Henry Raeburn
Sir John and Lady Clerk of Penicuik, by Henry Raeburn. Again, Macdonald: “This work is both a brilliant essay in the properties of reflected light and a portrait not just of two people but of a relationship.”
[Rene Magritte, photographed by Lothar Wolleh in Brussels, 1967]
