A Short Comment on "Giving."

Generosity is giving more than you can, and pride is taking less than you need.

Kahlil Gibran


I've always understood the act of generosity as an act of selfless giving.

The true 'Giver' will offer all they have without a hint of a grudge or with the thought or words of "Now you owe me!"

What is it to give with grace?

I believe it is to offer what you have to somebody with courtesy and decency with "no strings attached".

Some years ago while at university, there was a particular character who wrote for the university newspaper, pulled weight in the student Union, righting wrongs for his fellow students and so intelligent, however at the time he was on heroin but managed to keep it all together. Another friend who also worked for the University paper came from money and, of course, always had plenty in his pocket. We'll call our intelligent heroin addict Simon and our rich friend, Jack.

Living on only student payouts from the government, Simon could barely eat, let alone support a heroin habit. But when ever he needed a little cash, (usually $50), he'd ask Jack, and without hesitation, give Simon his much needed $50 for food or whatever else he required because in Jack's eye's, once you "lend" someone money, never expect to get it back. In my eyes, good old Jack gave with decency and grace. In the end, so many years later, Jack is a philosophy lecturer and Simon is a big wig in one of the top publishing firms in the country and, incidentally, off the stuff.

I believe if it wasn't for Jack's generosity and giving with utter grace, Simon would not be where he is today - more than likely this highly intelligent man would be dead.

I really think that to give begrudgingly has no ethical value, the act means absolutely nothing.

Another example: when asked, a "friend" does you a much needed favour and while doing it complains, makes personal judgements and expects a return in one form or another; they shouldn't even make the effort, because more than likely, the act will do more harm than good - for the giver and the one receiving.

The spirit in which a thing is given determines that in which the debt is acknowledged; it's the intention, not the face-value of the gift, that's weighed.

Seneca 

Yes, it the intention of one's giving, its selfless aura, which makes the act that much more valuable.

To Give with Grace has great significance for all concerned.

Modern Technology amongst the Forest

Most Saturday mornings around 6 a.m., we do what we call our 50 minute jaunt, that is to say, as work is not pending, we can exercise and take a scenic path through the forest that lies behind suburbia. The lush trees and creek that runs along the path, including the wildlife flying overhead and across our feet, and a glorious lack of people makes the excursion pleasurable and a perfect activity to begin the weekend.

After about 45 minutes of brisk walking, nature began calling, loudly, thus I searched franticly for an unnoticeable tree off the path in order to handle the situation which, by the way, was about to hit “Breaking Point”.

Fortunately, we had made a full circle around the forest and up ahead stood a modern facility for such emergencies.

It was a small building made of polished steel with various buttons and symbols one associates with Star Wars movies.

“Now”, I thought, jumping up and down like a madman, “Which bloody button should I push?”

By sheer luck, I pushed the correct button that caused the heavy sliding door to open, and immediately closed once I was inside the small space. The walls were polished stainless steel and not a speck of dust could be found. Upon beginning to relieve myself, elevator music of the most lame variety blasted through the ceiling above me, a cheesy rendition of “What the World Needs now is Love Sweet Love.” Needless to say, this caused me to jump slightly forcing my aim to falter. Nothing too serious. (However, I thought: were the tolilet police about to crash in and arrest me for terroist urination.)

Once finished, an automatic voice boomed through the speaker with a computer voice like “Al” in the Kubrick film, 2001 A Space Odyssey: “The Toilet will flush automatically after you wash your hands in the sink to your right. Please follow the instructions carefully”

Pushing the button with the symbol “soap” a small portion squirted in my hands. The second symbol for “water”, once my hands were underneath it, rinsed them thoroughly, and lastly the drying mechanism (once my hands were in the correct position) shot forth hot air which, all said and done, had the capability of giving me second degree burns. Once the dryer stopped, the toilet flushed and the heavy steel door opened. The voice said,

“Thank you for using “Never-Waste, we hope your experience has been a pleasant one.”

The heavy steel door closed behind me, seeing the lush forest and my friend, I felt to have been returned to earth after an alien abduction, and relieved to have been returned to earth safely.

We then walked to the nearest coffee shop for a double-shot macchiato, as my nerves were slightly frayed and I had actually witnessed all our futures to come.

“On second thought, make that a triple-shot.”

"MONSTER"

It was the 17th century poet, author of “Paradise Lost” and “Paradise Regained”, John Milton, who wrote,

“Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep”.
Is it possible that beings walk the earth that are never seen except for the select few of the chosen?

Do mythical creatures walk the earth without us noticing…until they want to be noticed or have a specific agenda with you?

It is an old American Indian proverb that the natural creature’s of this planet can only be “seen” by us if they choose to be seen.

Quantum theory proposes that we merely exist in one universe while billions of other universes exist in our very own space, (multi-universe theory) thus collisions or lapses, causing strange phenomenon to manifest. Worm-holes appear, strange entrances can exist merging two diverse universes which some have reported to have experienced the extraordinary: other civilizations, more advanced than our own…even “monsters”

Have you ever walked out into the dead of night, doing a mundane task like taking out the garbage, the wind rustling the trees, a full moon casting its light, and you absolutely feel that something or someone is watching you?

The fright or terror is real as you run back to the door and close it and lock it just in case. You did not see anything, but your intuition tells you that there was something or someone watching, waiting, and biding its time for the right moment. You want to believe it is simply your imagination, but know deep in your psyche, that someone or something was there…


A past colleague of mine related an experience to me that was astonishing, that later was corroborated by her brother, whom I met at an Orange County restaurant, a reputable lawyer and rational man; upon questioning him about this specific incident, he became suddenly reticent over a glass of expensive scotch but re-told the story in the exact way, word for word, as his sister. He waved down the waiter and ordered a double and once the drink arrived, began his story.


“Patricia and I were living in Hawaii, our parents off somewhere in Europe (as usual) on vacation. I was attending Law School and my sister was taking care of the family home and our two cats. She was home alone most of the time but this didn’t worry me because criminal activity (minor or major) never happened on the island at the time…we were too far away from the nearest town. It was the late sixties, we thought we were safe.

My last class was cancelled, jumping in my Jeep, decided to check up on my little sister.

Pulling up the driveway, I heard my sister screaming as she ran out of the jungle that essentially surrounds our entire house. She was headed towards the front door when she tripped and fell on her knees. Patricia’s expression was nothing less than pure horror. As she tried to lift herself up, out from the bush appeared this creature. Looking back at the incident, even now, throws me into a slight confused state because beings like the one that had been chasing my sister through the forest, just do not exist”.

What did it look like? I asked.

“Let me tell the story!”

John was now agitated, obviously re-living the moment, going to a place he’d rather not go. He took a huge swig of his expensive scotch and continued.

“To say the least I was petrified and so much so, couldn’t bring myself to jump out of my Jeep to help – not even my only sister.

Patricia managed to get back on her feet and run to the front door, slamming the screen door shut. This “thing” crashed through the screen door and was now inside the house.

From inside our house, Patricia’s almost deafening scream sounded now like a desperate, final call for help.

Of course my natural instincts rose above my petty fear and I ran into the house to see this creature on top of my sister digging its claws into her forehead.

I’ll never forget the look on Patricia’s face. It wasn’t the expression of pain but kind of an hypnotic empty gaze of pleasure.

Grabbing one of the dining room chairs, I slammed it hard against the creatures back and it winced from the pain, removing its claws from my sister head.

But now it turned its gaze on me.

How do you describe something that has no comparison to anything you’ve seen before? The only “human” quality about this being was its eyes: red, pulsating with intent: I could not look at those eyes, (a voice in my head resounded) thus turning away from its gaze, and I picked up another chair and started swinging. One of the chair’s legs slammed into its left eye. It let out a tone of voice that I, to this day, cannot really accurately describe…a whelp?

But this is the strange part of the experience. I could hear its voice inside my head!

“Tell your sibling not to cross over again, because there will be consequences.”

The “thing” bounced through the broken screen door like a mutant grasshopper and disappeared into the jungle.

Turning to my sister, she continued to have that gaze of blankness and pleasure like the insane.

After a week Patricia seemed to have recovered from the incident, but we never really talked about it until many years later”.

The table had that uncomfortable silence as it seemed all of us were reflecting on what had just been said. Then John asked:

“You appear to be an open minded individual, what do you think of the “story”?”

In my own mind and experience, I tried to come up with some totally rational explanation: a crazy ape, perhaps a homeless person with red eyes from too much cheap wine, however, sometimes “explanations” for the irrational are more far fetched than the unexplainable.

Interestingly, those vague dots on Patty’s forehead that most of the time she tried to cover with make-up, now were blatantly obvious.

So I ordered another scotch and said it was a peculiar experience, and thanked him for telling me.

Our conversations throughout the rest of the evening touched only the commonplace and superficial – politics, sports and the L.A. Freeway system.

Pulling up in my driveway to my little Hollywood bungalow, getting out of the car, the Santa Ana winds had begun, heralding the summer months. There was a full moon, but I distinctly felt someone’s eyes upon me. Turning quickly to my right as I slotted my key into the lock, two, bright red eyes glared through the bushes next door.

A foreign voice resounded in my head as I closed the front door and threw my keys on the table:

“Stop now or there will be consequences.”

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep that night.

'The Naiad' J.W. Waterhouse 1897.

If one attempts to immerse into a certain artist, writer or poet, will discover a theme or motif that casually travels throughout their particular body of work.

The Pre-Raphaelite, J.W. Waterhouse, had at least two obsessions, his model, Muriel Foster, and his focus on water spirits, nymphs, sirens and other mythical water beings.

Although most his female subjects were characters or representations of ancient myths and poems, his model, Muriel Foster, appeared as the main star, the leading lady in all his work. She was the "Marilyn Monroe" of the 19th century art movement...though her true identity was kept secret because of the social mores and hypocrisy’s of the time period.

Muriel was indeed a classical beauty.

This painting, The Naiad, has always intrigued me because the Naiad has the expression of pure wonder and curiosity, almost intently surprised as if the boy is hurt in some way. She has seen a human being for the first time: and luckily, while he sleeps by the river.

What is a Naiad?

Always connected to a body of water, it is their world and they depend on the water for their existence. The ancient Greeks believed after many encounters with these beautiful beings, that they had inspirational powers and the knowledge of healing. Some also believed they could predict the future…they were special divine beings connected with divinity and growth.

I love this painting for many reasons: the beauty of the Naiad and her cautious curious expression as she peers at the half naked human, covered in what appears to be an animal skin: perhaps a leopard or something more mundane.

The Naiad are divine spirits of a natural existence. They are shy, humble and fearful of the out side “real world”. Thus this painting is special as it is a first encounter between the human and the divine. (Of course in the pagan sense)

“Enigma” by Gustave Dore.

The word “enigma” is defined as a mystery, secret or closed book. It can also be defined as a puzzle, a problem, something that requires solving. An enigma is something that baffles understanding and can never be explained: a secret that will remain a secret no matter how hard we attempt to discover, define or explain…a true unsolvable event or thing.

This has to be one of my favourite drawings of all time. What kind of man could actually create something so enticing, odd and somehow “real” calling the work: Enigma?

This drawing by Gustave Dore is one of those work’s of art where one can sit and look at for hours, continuing to discover new aspects, new things never seen before.

For me, at least, the painting somehow makes “sense” but on a very abstract “imaginative” level.

So what is Dore’s “Enigma” showing us?

The scene is a battle field as dead soldiers lie everywhere. In the background, smoke fills the air giving the impression of enormous fires continuing to rage across the land…

This particular battle was fierce, a no holds bard situation of desperation, as if the victor’s will Rule… ALL.

This is not the beginning of the battle but its end.

The central focus of the drawing is of two strange beings: a winged character, perhaps and angel, and a sphinx, a “man” with the body of a lion, appear to be embracing or the winged one asking the sphinx for mercy, begging for a truce, because everything is destroyed…nothing is left to rule - a battle in heaven between Good and Evil; any interpretation is possible, however the drawing remains a magnificent example of the human beings capacity for imagination and representing that imagination in a concrete form, an image, sharing this vision with the rest of us.

Art in the truest sense of the word. ( Left click on image for better view)

Gustave Dore’s “Enigma” is currently housed at the Musee D'Orsay in Paris.

Comment on Picasso's Les Demoiselles d' Avignon

Painted and revised several times in June-July 1907, Picasso unveiled this masterpiece in his Paris lodgings to a small group of critics and admirers, to a mixed response. This work is of course a radical break from traditional composition.

At first glance, the work is quite striking in presentation, wondering in the back of my mind what could possibly be the subject matter; let alone its style and method? Only when one understands the painting's back story, does the painting achieve any semblance of meaning to the viewer.

Now one studies the painting again: these five nude prostitutes, evidently, from a brothel on Carrer d' Avinyo, in Barcelona Spain, are certainly portrayed as miserable; perhaps on strike, protesting having to pose for the young painter, though seemingly bored too, waiting for the next sex-hungry client to walk through the front door.

The space is compressed, the figures appearing to project from the canvass like shards of glass. At the bottom is an apparent still life fruit, teetering on an up-side down table. As the artist had told his first audience in Paris, the faces of the models were inspired by Iberian sculpture and African masks. In the upper right corner of the canvas, the prostitute's face looks covered, like a black smudge, in an effort not to be recognised or noticed at all.

Les Demoiselles d' Avignon was to be revolutionary and controversial, evoking strong emotions from critics to even the artist's colleagues. “Has our mad friend gone insane?” Matisse, a close friend of Picasso, and later collaborator, thought the painting a joke on his first viewing. At the unveiling, bourgeoisie sycophants, however, dribbled into their expensive champaign with unadulterated praise, despite having not the slightest clue what they were seeing. Later Matisse, he claims, studied the piece further, acknowledging the works originality and “genius” cementing the to artist's later collaboration, and the subsequent Cubist movement.

The “morality brigade” at the time deemed the painting disgusting and decadent. In response, Picasso, true to his reputation and flair for anything controversial, incendiary and scandalous, re- named the work, mon bordel (my brothel) though ended up preferring the title Las chicas de Avignon – the man-girls of Avignon.

Many critics over the century have commented that the models cannot be discerned as either male or female, all the women quite ugly, and sexually appealing for those adventurous types. Other critics call the work the quintessential representation of Picasso's misogyny.

Either way, the painting continues to evoke fascination and emotion today.

Philosophical Musings (Thoughts on Nonsense)

All too often (and I know I’m guilty of this) we seek to generalize or conclude about some aspect or observation of a person or the world – rather than attempt to really grasp (its) essence, at least confront openly and try to understand the parts, the reasons why it is the way it is…most of us automatically summarize and rush to a conclusion, flittingly without further reflection, move on to the next thing. Critical thought or a ‘process of thought’ has gone by the wayside, we merely skim over – speed read our way through life. Near enough is always good enough, basing our judgements on superficial and spurious premises, only adding to the world’s confusion rather than seeking earnestly to find the truth.

A good example of this absence of “thinking” is our use of language. Language is a tool in which to exist in the world. Language is culturally specific, that is to say, it changes, and certain words have a variety of different meanings depending on one’s race, culture or group. Wittgenstein called this Language Games, relative use of terms within particular frameworks can and does, make-up our knowledge of the world.

Language can either set us free or chain us to a dark and false way of existing. Often we engage in these ‘language games’ without thinking about what we are saying, and whether noticing what we say is based on fact, in other terms, communicating things that ‘can’ be described without falling into nonsense.

The 20th century thinker, Ludwig Wittgenstein, believed that confusion in the subject of philosophy lies in our use of language. It was his notion that the purpose of philosophy was to untangle the subjects ‘confusions”, its muddled language, attaining clarity of thought, expression and perspective, leading to understanding.

Most of us are guilty in our misuse of language when it comes to describing those things that are indescribable…in the case of metaphysics, for example, philosophers have expounded on the ‘true nature’ of the universe or the reasons for our existence, creating vast systems of belief, notions of the very core of life. These systems involve describing the human beings ‘true’ nature, and telling us how we feel or should feel, and why one act is wrong and another action, the right and virtuous one. Engaging in describing the indescribable is nothing but nonsense, but because we have forgotten how to think, we accept and ignorantly move on…

For most of us I believe it comes down to basic old laziness. We have forgotten how to think. Taking words and thought at face-value, accepting “received wisdom” without critical thought, without analysing, has made us into passive receptacles, always going with the flow. It is really too hard to think, so we hang back and chill, letting someone else run our minds and lives.

What is nonsense?

According to the Austrian logician, nonsense is an attempt to describe the indescribable.

When reading the newspaper, gazing at the television, listening to people speak, if vigilant, can hear nonsense, that is to say, people describing things that cannot be described. Because of our lack of “thinking” we make assumptions about people’s thoughts or feelings and judge these assumptions as true. When in reality, certainly, we cannot “know” the feelings of other people, but we assume we can. Really, no-one actually “knows” what another person thinks or feels. We assume we know based on certain language games, usually based on spurious evidence, and all these descriptions are, in the cold light of day, pure nonsense.

Psychoanalysis is a pertinent example of using language games to confuse and draw us into (its) game, based on theory, telling us how we feel and why we feel the way we do. Our modern world has pendulum swung from facts to games of assumption and specious knowledge of the unknowable, accepting nonsense because we have lost the aptitude of critical thought.

Why?

It is laziness, perhaps, or possibly unwillingness to go against something seemingly out of our control.

Language is the key to understanding, and using this tool to seek the truth rather than obscure it, is necessary, probably now more than ever.

But this could be, well… all nonsense.

GERMAN EXPRESSIONISM – Self Portrait: Lovis Corinth

Gustave Klimt is more famous for leading the ‘Secession’ movement of art during the end of the fin-de-siecle, corrupt Austro- Hungarian Empire, prior to WW1. Less known in popular culture is the ‘father’ of German Expressionism, Lovis Cornith.

When one has the chance and time to see his paintings, Cornith’s talent is assured but as this particular art movement is known for, his work has a disturbing quality – a style of rebellion, politically motivated and seemingly decadent.

Taken from a terrific web site, a good definition for the ‘Secession’ originating in Vienna:

“The 'Secession' marks the first appearance of a free art market ever in art history; the artist’s no longer work based on the instructions of their commissioners, but rather unleash their imagination.”

A rebellion against “Monarchy”, against convention, no longer concerned with economics, these German artists painted what their imaginations conjured.

And really, at times fascinating & daunting, German Expressionism creates feelings of danger, ugliness and torment, preceding (some say foretelling) the horrendous acts of WW1 & WW2: mass slaughter and genocide.

What is admirable about Cornith was his willingness to experiment with a variety of forms: religious and mythology, landscapes, interiors, still lives, portraits, (many self portraits) as above; experimenting with classical and impressionistic light and arrangement.

Cornith’s ‘nudes’ are extraordinary revealing the beauty and decadence of the artist’s view of the female body.

Intense, outstanding, attitude, and a personality, Cornith lead the movement against convention…and the world changed forever.

History on Wittgenstein & *that* House.

Reading a fascinating text at the moment called “Mysticism and Architecture – Wittgenstein and the Meanings of the Palais Stonborough” by Roger Paden. A philosophical piece, Paden attempts to connect Wittgenstein’s philosophy to the Palais Stonborough, a “modernist” building mostly designed and built by Ludwig Wittgenstein for his sister during fin- de- siecle Vienna.

Ludwig Wittgenstein is known as one of the most controversial and popular philosophers of the twentieth century. He became famous throughout Europe after publishing the infamous, “Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus”, a difficult text dealing with the logical structure of propositions and the nature of logical inference, developing succinct arguments on Epistemology, Principles of Physics, Ethics and the “Mystical”. I’ve read this text several times and also various interpretations of the work from noteworthy philosophers but continue to find it troubling. Having only a background in continental philosophy, Logical Positivism is a hard reach for me, particularly having only a first year undergraduate knowledge of logic.

Nevertheless, Wittgenstein evolved his philosophy after WW1, lecturing at Cambridge University until his death in 1951. Wittgenstein’s last work, published posthumously, so named “Philosophical Investigations”, to be sure, once one understands his foundational arguments, is a much more accessible work, and well worth the time exploring.

Before WW1, Wittgenstein studied engineering in Britain, however through his reading found the works of Russell and Frege to be fascinating, to then go to Cambridge to talk with Russell and ask if he was “suited” to study philosophy. Russell found the young man extremely intelligent, and well versed in mathematics and logic. Wittgenstein attended lectures at the university for almost two years, listening to luminaries such as Moore and Russell, to then attempt to re-think the direction these philosophers were headed. It should be noted that anyone at that time who had met the young Austrian, found his conversation and presence overwhelming yet compellingly brilliant.

WW1 began and changed the minds, attitudes and perceptions of Europe.

Wittgenstein came from one of the wealthiest families in the Austrian Hungarian Empire. Father Karl Wittgenstein made his fortune in manufacturing, steal, ore and financiering, only to retire at an early age becoming a patron of the arts, supporting and developing gifted artists: famous artists, writers and composers such as Johannes Brahms, Gustav Mahler, Pablo Casals and Gustav Klimt. Margaret, one of Ludwig’s older sisters, and whom he designed and built Palias Stonborough, was a patient of Sigmund Freud for years, eventually responsible for getting the doctor out of Vienna during the Nazi occupation. Young Ludwig was raised in this environment. His brother Paul Wittgenstein, a well known pianist, lost his arm during WW1, only to have Maurice Ravel compose “Concerto for the Left Hand” for him, because after the war, taught himself to play the piano with only his left hand. (If you have not heard a recording of one of Paul Wittgenstein’s performances, it is actually quite astounding.)

Rich, smart and definitely full of himself, young Wittgenstein returned to Austria from England and joined to battle against the German enemy which included his English teachers and friends (An irony he was all too aware of.)

Somewhat difficult to understand, at the turn of the last (19th to 20th) century, war was seen as something heroic and romantic. Well, to say the least, after millions of innocent lives lost for the elite goal of power between the German, French and English aristocracies, absolutely no one would see war in the same positive light. The “Spirit of the Age” shifted and those that did battle, those that suffered and survived, viewed the world in a different way… so too Herr Wittgenstein.

After receiving commendations for bravery, etc, spending a year in an Italian prisoner of war camp, finishing the “Tractatus”, returned to Vienna a much different man.

During the Great War, Karl Wittgenstein died, leaving a huge inheritance for Ludwig… (In today’s money: many millions) but he gave most of it away to charities, friends and back to his sisters, he kept none of the money).

Wittgenstein, although Jewish but raised a strict Catholic, right after the war, attempted to join a catholic monastery…the monks found his reasons and his destiny not suited for their life, however hired him as a gardener for two years. Wittgenstein then decided that serving people was necessary thus attended teacher’s school for two years to become the only primary teacher in a small town outside of Vienna. He taught well but was accused of treating some student’s too harshly and resigned after five years of teaching to then return to Vienna.

It was during this time that he helped design and build Palais Stonborough.

Hermine and Margaret loved their little brother beyond measure, considering the two older brothers, under the hammer from “dad” to follow in the family business, both committed suicide.

Margaret was pleased to see her brother. Changed from the war, yes, though she could still see that light in his eyes…a project!

One can only imagine after their two older brothers reported dead from suicide, Hermine and Margaret, seeing their two younger brothers, Ludwig and Paul for the first time would have been emotional.

Margaret has piles of inheritance- cash and wants to build a house or a ‘salon’ to establish a place or haven to house the artists, writers and musicians of the world…like her father…

Ludwig arrives from the monastery…finally home from the war.

One can only imagine her delight, to see her little brother home after so many years.

While a prisoner of war in Italy, Wittgenstein met a fellow intellectual, Paul Engelmann, an architect, a religious man to whom Wittgenstein could relate.

Like a good sister would, Margaret connected them after the war, where Engelmann was in the midst of designing her “salon”.

Surprisingly not, Margaret observed her brother dive into the design and building of the project with alacrity, as was his style and sensibility.

According to Paden, the home’s design and building is Wittgenstein’s sensibility to the door hinges and window frames. In the end, the entire project was the philosophers creation down to every minute detail.

Why I chose to read this text is the theses of connecting a philosopher’s work to a moment in time of his past, and his creation of a beautiful building, how has this author managed to connect the two?

So far so good...

Paden understands architecture and philosophy…and Wittgenstein as well, but we shall see.

As Blue is Blue...

This has to be one of my favourite paintings by the world renowned modernist artist, Pablo Picasso. (1881-1973)

What are we actually viewing here? An old man seemingly enraptured in his music, while playing his instrument, the classical guitar.

What draws me to this painting is Picasso’s use of colour, different shades of blue, monochromatic in tone (Known as Picasso’s Blue Period, 1900-1904) and the content, the subject matter – an old man playing music appearing lost in the notes he plays.

The old man’s fingers are almost too thin and long yet perfect for playing this particular instrument.

One could perhaps interpret the content depicting a dieing man playing his last note of music before passing on. He is either in rapture or on the verge of death.

This is typical of Picasso’s overall distorted style as the oldman’s torso is too elongated and reclining, and as mentioned above, the fingers are abnormally long and slender.

What is most curious about this painting is the mysterious presence of a woman’s portrait underneath as we can almost see her face and legs. Some art critics have proposed that it was an unfinished portrait, abandoned by Picasso and “The Old Guitarist” painted over it to save money as he was quite poor during his Blue Period, and not selling many paintings.

This painting is more than likely the most well-known of the artist’s Blue period.

“THE Old Guitarist” is an engaging and inspirational work as it has inspired poets like Wallace Stevens to write a poem about the painting and composers to write their music.

One of my all time favourites of Picasso’s entire body of work.

Strangely, indeed, up to you.

Sirens - JW Waterhouse circa 1890.

Of all the ancient poets, Homer has maintained modern civilizations imagination, because the stories epic proportions of his tales capture the human condition… even today.

There are many, many examples including the representation by the 19th century painter, J.W. Waterhouse, and his rendition of Ulysses’ long journey from the useless and proud war at Troy. Over his long journey home they have to sail through the Halls of Hercules, his loyal followers obeying his every order. The Halls of Hercules, known for its deadly songs of wisdom and destruction of the Sirens. As was commonly known, ships never ever passed through because of the Sirens words and songs, causing the ships to dash against the rocks, the ship mates dragged under, slaves of the Sirens, forever.

As the story goes, Ulysses created the famous Trojan Horse that led to the destruction of Troy and create the vengeance of Poseidon, the god of the sea, against Ulysses…thus Ulysses’ treacherous and suffering journey home.

The Sirens knew of this vengeance from Poseidon, however, did their best to dash their vessel and the men on it, including the impressive, Ulysses.

In this Waterhouse painting, commissioned by the 19th century curator of Melbourne’s Art Gallery, ( requested Waterhouse paint this particular scene; and paid a pittance... the painter’s only second painting) J.W. Waterhouse soon over time, working in Italy, painted wonderful, beautiful depictions of myth, art and life. And delivered the work, landing in our museum, where it has moved from time to time, but most often hangs in the Melbourne Gallery.

Australia owns this painting as it was specifically commissioned by the then curator of the National Gallery of Australia. (Interesting choice of subject matter) This was the young Waterhouse’s second painting he ever sold. Thus the start of his inspiration and productivity.

The print of this painting had hung on the wall above my desk for many years: wonderful memories. Ulysses an inspiration for so many essays and story’s, sadness, sorrow and pure joy.

The print continuous to hang above a conspicuous place in my flat.

The questioned must be asked?

Why did Ulysses order his men to tie his body to the mast of the ship? He then ordered the crew to cover their ears as best they could: wax, cloth, anything and ignore the song.

“Tie me tight to the mast and do not follow any of my orders until we’re through the halls of Hercules. Cover your ears and not listen to anyone until we are through…”

As the sailors row through the hall s of Hercules, the Sirens emerge from the water and descend from the sky.

Their song is sweet, alluring and seductive. They promise everything that a man would ever want…though the crew continue to push their paddles, pushing harder and harder through the halls yet can just make out the screams of their leader, Ulysses pleading to row ashore and join them…but they never do.

This is the scene of the painting: the curious and brave attempt to understand the “unknown”, and be free; the loyalty of a few men, despite the temptations, cover their ears, because they want and need to get home.

Once through the halls of Hercules, the crew untie their master as he falls into a heap of sleep. Two of the crew take their leader below to his bed to slumber, which he does for many days.

Thus the story continues.

To finally see the original of the painting was dazzling, the colours true, the painting stunning, the story more clear…

To actually experience, to see a painting close to one’s heart was a gift.

An aesthetic moment to remember.