'Sirens'. J.W. Waterhouse.

 

Of all the ancient poets, Homer has continued to hold fast to modern civilization's imagination because the stories epic proportions of his tales capture the human condition… even today.

There are 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 is 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 vessel to dash against the rocks, the shipmates 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 created the vengeance of Poseidon, the god of the sea, against Ulysses…thus Ulysses' treacherous and suffering journey home.

However, the Sirens knew of this vengeance from Poseidon and 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 (who 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 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: beautiful memories. Ulysses is an inspiration for so many essays and stories, sadness, sorrow, and pure joy.

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

The question must be asked?

Why did Ulysses order his men to tie his body to the ship's mast? 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…."

The sailors row through the halls of Hercules, the Sirens emerge from the water and descend from the sky, singing their songs.

Their song is sweet, alluring, and seductive. They promise everything that a man would ever want…though the crew continues to push their paddles, going 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 painting scene: 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 unties their master as he falls into a heap of sleep. Two of the staff 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 colors accurate, the artwork stunning, the story clear…

To actually experience seeing a painting close to one's heart is a real gift.

An aesthetic moment to remember.

"Summer Night" by Andrey Selenin

 

This painting is titled "Summer Night" by the young Russian artist Andrey Selenin. (1973-) Selenin is a student of the Repin School in St. Petersburg, the Academy calling their particular style "Realism."

Whether viewed as print or in digital form on the net, certain paintings reach out and create an effect for the observer.

"Summer Night" reached out from my computer screen and held me spellbound for only a matter of seconds, but the image in my mind's eye continued...

I remember having a discussion years ago with a friend concerning "hype-reality," "representation," and the "original" of a particular work. The question was whether the artist's authentic (creative) energy can impact the viewer in a mere copy like a digital representation?

I concluded that if the painting is beautiful or outstanding somehow, a digital representation would be just as powerful as seeing the original.

 Since that discussion, I've changed my mind, and admittedly, original works have a "deeper" impact on the viewer than a copy. Why?

Art, for me, is mainly a visceral experience. To rationally explain why an original Picasso hung on a wall in a museum in Madrid named after the artist, for example, "The Guitarist," bowls me over, yet a digital representation merely gets the heart-pounding...there is a difference; maybe a matter of degrees of heart-felt response...who knows?

I believe "knowing" that you're seeing the "original," the brain sets the heart up... 'this is the real thing,' and the viewer responds appropriately.

The above piece by Selenin, no matter a digital representation, impacts aesthetically and viscerally, making the mind wander to cool summer evenings... and a certain calmness as the crickets play their songs.

That center point of the lighted window amongst the natural light of dusk is absolutely fabulous.

Some of us must be content to see only copies of copies and digital representations of great art.

However, as my old friend argued years ago, the original has the most significant impact on the viewer.

I'd love to see "Summer Night" in the original...outstanding.

“Regime-Change” : the Arrogance of the US Empire -Opinion

 

                                                              

                                                                                                       

Early this morning, I heard the US Secretary of State, Antony Blinken, declare (paraphrased) that following Biden's earlier statements, the US will not be performing “regime change” in Russia. My reaction was visceral, combined with humor and pure astonishment. The first words out of my mouth were, “Who in the hell do you think you are?” That's the problem: the deep-seated notion of US government “exceptionalism”; that America is above the fray and can do bloody hell whatever it desires on the world stage, including war crimes. 

As history has revealed, US regime-change operations in Vietnam and Afghanistan failed. So considering, even attempting such an act with nuclear power is utter folly. Moreover, it's evident to many, anyone with half a brain, that such an action would end in WWIII, if not earth's total destruction.

The hypocrisy of the United States since the Russia/Ukraine war has become more apparent than ever before. US media and their "expert" guests declare Russian war crimes and the killing of civilians, creating massive refugee crises. This is true and tragic. That said, over the last 30 years, the US has been committing war crimes and creating humanitarian emergencies in several countries, and continuing to do so, is quite pathetic.

Are these people stupid, ignorant, or simply spewing propaganda hoping their viewers are just as unaware of history? It could well be a combination of all the above.

Another glaring hypocrisy is accusing Putin of suppressing dissent in Russian media and its population. (Of course, he has and continues to do so.) I hope we have been paying attention, but we have the most essential publisher on the planet (Julian Assange) in a UK high-security prison for revealing American war crimes and extensive political maleficence. Anti-war and most left voices across social media are being censored in droves for even attempting to present an alternative narrative to the States narrative. We are doing the same exact thing, yet the US projects all their crimes onto Russia and expects people not to recognize the hypocrisy.

As an added note, the US position on Julian Assange is that he is a spy and a State Actor, an enemy of the United States. Recently when some state department dupe stated this on Australian national television, the journalist didn't come back with any facts or important follow-up questions.

The proper response would have been: you mean he's an enemy of the US for revealing American war crimes? Assange is not a spy but is a whistleblower and a facilitator of whistleblowers. Exposing corruption and crimes of the state and its governments is the job of journalism – it was called the Fourth Estate. It seems those times have long gone. Where "experts" and talking heads spew propaganda for the establishment is now what is called the Free Press. It's truly pathetic.

When it comes right down to it, when and why is the term "regime change" become so accepted as everyday social discourse. It literally means the forceful takeover of a foreign sovereign government.

The typical response from the US government is: "This is a matter of National Security."

Over the last twenty years, I've understood that the term National Security is code for Torture and War Crimes.

Both Russia nor the United States do not recognize the International Courts in the Hague. As a result, either country's war crimes cannot be put on trial, and those responsible are not punished under International Law. If these superpowers can commit war atrocities without legal consequences,..there is no justice anywhere.

Free Press is virtually gone, and the term and action of US "regime change" have become a normalized term in social discourse.

Our civilization has lost its core values.

20th Century history and Nazis...

 

I talked to the old Ukrainians and Russians back in the day, usually at a wedding or a funeral.

At first, they would dismiss me.

For the Ukrainians, the Stalin era was too hard to talk about. For the Russians, they destroyed Hitler. Then, over Vodka, Vadim would begin to speak.

A little boy, the Americans made Vadim and his mother walk on a road; (Vadim remembers holding his mother's hand) on each side were Jews, German people, soldiers, and children, dead bodies as far as they could see. Then, finally, a Russian and an American soldier stopped and gave Vadim and his mother food and a Hershy Bar.

In the present time, the US is supplying "lethal aid" to Nazis.

The war is over. Vadim's Aussie experience. ..is another story.

War is a terrible experience. Ukraine has been touched by US $ corruption and neo-nazi sociopaths.

This war can end right now. Yet, US neocons will not permit peace. We should ask, Why?

(The Nazi problem)

Diplomacy and peace.

Why not?

Ukraine – I guess I need to explain myself...

Since the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I've written several articles (BLOGS) offering my views on the situation. A few friends overseas, have called me a liar and blocked me on social media. Like I've said before, war is an emotional topic. Some years ago, I taught history in high school, mostly about war and revolution. I conveyed to my students that a single narrative on a particular war is usually written by the winners. During war, propaganda is rampant on all sides of the conflict. We're seemingly in a climate where expressing one's point of view on any issue of worth, that is contrary to the establishment narrative, is met with scorn. Ukraine is no different.

Let me explain myself. 

First of all, I've never been a fan or supporter of Vladimir Putin. More to the point, I'm not a fan of Australia's Prime Minister, Scott Morrison. Indeed, I've never been a fan of any American president since Abraham Lincoln. President Biden's corruption in this Ukraine mess is evident. Those leaders who push for war or regime change of a foreign nation have other nefarious agendas.

The Russian military invasion of Ukraine, in my view, was simply not an option. But I know the history and have listened to Putin's speeches for years. He warned the West that pushing NATO on the Russian border was unacceptable and those responsible would pay the price. In the '90s, the US signs an agreement not to expand NATO close to Russia's borders. The US and NATO ignored this agreement and expanded militarily anyway. For Russia, this is a national security issue. And it's not hard to understand why.

Ukraine is one of the most corrupt nations in the world. President Zelenksky, once an actor and comedian, won the last election based on a platform for peace. He wanted to work with the Russian government. What happened? Neo-Nazis within the government threatened the man's life and his family. The US, a country that has been itching for war with Russia for years, also pressured the Ukraine president. He now is more or less a tool of the Neo-Nazis in Ukraine and the neocons in the United States. It comes down to the fact that the US is fighting Russia with US weapons and Ukraine bodies. Otherwise known as a *proxy war*.

Let me just say emphatically, Neo-Nazis are spread throughout the Ukraine power structure. Their presence in the Ukraine military and government is pervasive. One of Russia's demands and reason for invading Ukraine is to DE-nazify Ukraine. That reason should be easy to understand. It was Russia's efforts that defeated Hitler in WWII. Over 30 million Russians died during this war. Unlike western minds, the Russian people have a knowledge of history. So for Nazis screaming "Russian cockroaches" in the media and social media, alarm bells are ringing as loud as the churches in the Vatican. Russia's hate for Nazis is palpable. Yet the US and their obedient poodles want to cover up this fact. The US and NATO have also been training these extremist fools. The US will have carnal knowledge with the devil if it suits their goals.

The Russian military and their weapon stockpiles are daunting.

One experienced analyst said (paraphrased) that if Russia wanted to occupy Ukraine, it would have happened in the first two weeks of battle. So what is the Russians attempting to achieve?

Russia targets the Neo-Nazi forces within the Ukraine government and the Nazi forces within the military. The Russians want NATO forces to back away from their borders. They want Ukraine to be a neutral country, not influenced by them or the West. Ultimately, they want the US sanctions to stop and agreements in international trade. They want the slimy tentacles of the US and their allies out of Ukraine.

I find it evident and depressing that the US ignored these simple requests. Instead, the US is the planet's bully boy and will do anything to create more war and dominance on the world stage.

All nonsense aside, I'm not a Traitor, Putin Puppet, or a card-carrying communist. On the contrary, I'm a pacifist and a firm believer in the power of diplomacy.

I hope I've explained myself.

A Love Letter from the Front…WWI (Short Fiction)

 

My Dearest,

Between the shouts and bombs, the opportunity to write has arrived through this lucky window of opportunity that could be short-lived.

How I miss you...

Currently crouched in a trench next to a sick friend, his body temperature is growing by the minute, but there is absolutely nothing I can do about it! We have been forced to remain in this hole because the gunfire begins at the slightest movement…we do not dare lift our vulnerable heads above the ground.

Yesterday the sounds of guns and bombs had been unrelenting. My dearest, I honestly thought I would go outraged. This war is not natural. Why do we continue to kill each other…in the name of what…the pride of our country, a dispute over a small slice of land?

Please forgive me, my dearest, ranting again, talking only about myself.

How is your mother? Has this remarkable woman’s condition changed at all, and have you managed to find some spare moments to work on your novel?

Thank you for sending the third chapter; it read like a tale that one would read many years ago, a romantic poetic piece of pure unrequited love.

My darling, this is what I feel for you.

(Sorry, my love, against your request, I let a few of the boys read the chapter, and they absolutely loved it!)

As the bombs pounded through the night, my thoughts were only of you…your beautiful smile, those deep hazel eyes, and that future time when we will meet again. Your image has kept me sane, my love; the notion of meeting you at the train station, your lovely smile, those tender lips, and the thought of kissing them, over and over, has kept me alive through this stupid and evil war.

Please forgive my candor, but there is something I must tell you.

You are the only woman I have made love to…this may shock, considering I am a man of twenty-five, but you are the first…and may I say, the last.

Touching your white skin and merely the act of lying beside you, our toes, (of all things) touching, and feeling that moment would never come again, forcing myself to remain awake. I know this might sound thoroughly childish; however, my love, I adore those beautiful toes.

***

Sorry, but it has been a full day, a long one, since continuing this letter. The bloke who I mentioned before has died, you know, the one with the fever. To be brutally honest, this poor man’s death has disturbed me. I think the sounds he made while dying upset me the most…but the enemy, at that moment, launched another attack… So my fellow dead soldier forgot for fear of my OWN life.

(We are a selfish species!)

We are still trapped like rats in this hole for fear of our own deaths.

We have not moved for weeks.

I miss you so much: the almost hypnotic scent of your beautiful hair in the morning; the delicate and flattering lines around your hazel eyes; the whisper of your voice next to my ear; that unbelievable smile and the utmost feelings ecstasy when we make love through the night. I desperately want to see and feel you again.

It is now late at night, and the bombs have finally stopped.

The sun is setting over the Western Front, and the explosions have started again…please think of me, my darling, and know, we will see each other again…in this life or perhaps, the next…

Remember me.

All my love,

XXX

Short comment: War in Ukraine and the Innocent.

 

I despise war of any type. The people of Ukraine are in deep shit. I can feel their suffering.

Remember, Palestinians have been bombed, abused, and oppressed for over 50 years.

Syria has been bombed into oblivion, including thousands of the elderly, women, and children exterminated.

The US sanctioned Iraq causing thousands of unnecessary deaths of children. (blocking needed medicines) The US government on record at the time said, "It was worth it."

The US and their allies, including the propagandized people, now suddenly recognizing the suffering of the war in Ukraine, need to wake the hell up. Where were you while these other countries were decimated? Not a word. Believe no- one on both sides of this war.

In the fog of war, everything must be viewed with a hefty grain of salt.

Image: a beautiful child from Palestine.

Comment: Modern Expressionism

 

This haunting piece by Joseph Milton is entitled “Inside.”

Although painted in 1998, the work does not have the attributes of typical “Modern Expressionism” inspired by the German Expressionists.

Why?

Although Milton’s use of intense color, merging images from other works, emphasizing obscure subject matter, depth, and exaggerated distortion, feels too derivative of German Expressionism or Expressionism.

The only difference between this “modern” work and the paintings of the 1920s is its content...there is no political agenda...but of course, a statement is being made, and that statement could well be anyone’s guess.

As is the 70’s post-modern sensibility, Modern Expressionism relates itself to the notion of “collage,” a merging of many art forms in the attempt at the creation of a “freestyle work or movement,” that is to say, the notion of pastiche, ala The Simpson’s or the work of Brian De Palma in film. The artist has carte blanche to steal any work from anywhere, past or present, merge different media forms, and present it as a piece of art; however, God forbid, never call it “original.” As this goes against the post-modern ethos, however, ironically, post-modernism claims total freedom from artistic “dogma,” yet has one, and a strong ethos at that...(not time or space to elaborate.)

One would have to admit that Milton’s “Inside” is striking in its use of color and the feelings of dread. But, unfortunately, it is reminiscent of another modern artist’s style that at the moment escapes me... damn.

Modern Expressionism spawned from Expressionism, German Expressionism, and Abstract Expressionism of the Americans, the most famous artist from this movement being Sidney Pollack.

Then, of course, one cannot fail to mention one of the godfathers of modern Expressionism, of all the so-called post contemporary artists, Andy Warhol, who ‘painted’ the screens of Marilyn Monroe that continue to sell at outrageous prices.

Milton’s painting is undoubtedly derivative from the German Expressionists in terms of their insanity, delusion, and depictions of suffering.

Something I would never buy or hang on my wall, but interesting.

Mendelssohn: A Live Violin Solo on a Summer's Night

 

Every summer for the last seventy years, the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra has performed at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl. This outdoor venue has the correct acoustics which any performing musician would relish. The orchestra does four performances, each with a varied theme and guest conductor or soloist. To hear the likes of Beethoven, Mozart, or a Mendelssohn on a breezy, warm summer's night under the stars is joyful and, for me, an utterly incredible experience.

We arrived around six, and there were people everywhere, eating and drinking their respective picnic suppers and enjoying the sea breeze that had been conspicuously absent for almost a week. Melbourne has had an extended hot summer, and the natives have started to complain because constant heat and humidity can drive a saint to a life of crime: weather-wise, a perfect night, despite the massive crowd.

Walking through the crowd, we made our way to the front of the stage in hopes of possibly finding two seats close to the orchestra. Considering the number of people, finding such seats was next to none. Then something strange and wonderful happened, a little old lady, at least eighty years young, grabbed my friend by the sleeve and asked,

"Darling, are you two meeting anyone?"

"" No, we're looking for some good seats."

She smiled and said, "Come with me."

We followed her through the isles, dodging people and those unawares, where she led us to the fourth row, dead center; seats that in normal circumstances would have cost us $250 a ticket!

The Good Samaritan's friend appeared slightly younger and pleased that her friend had found us to sit next to them and experience the concert. Once we were seated, both ladies returned to reading their books with the significant type: easier reading for tired eyes. Interestingly, they felt content that we were there, sitting next to them, someone to share the glory of the music.

As the time approached seven o'clock, the orchestra began to meander to their spots, warming up to their instruments. I love that sound of the strings tuning together, a universal sound that we are about to hear something magnificent.

The stage lights slowly rose, and the conductor, the world-renowned Oleg Caetani, a maestro, who conducted his first symphony at the age of seventeen, came on stage, bowed, turned to the orchestra, lifting his hands, the music began…

They began with the Overture from Donna Diana's opera, by Emil Nikolaus von Reznicek. This is music that I have never heard before, told that his music now is being rediscovered and played again…as it should because this particular Overture is so dramatic yet sensitive and technically, from my view, sophisticated.

The next piece came from the popular Percy Grainger, an Australian, who won critical and widespread acclaim for his work internationally. Born in Australia in 1882, he studied music to travel to Europe and found the study of folk tunes an inspiration; the folk tune had significant meaning for Grainger, and the song performed, Green Bushes, seemed to me to be a combination of Celtic, German and Polish influences. So again, this is a piece of music that instantly makes you feel right with the world no matter your circumstances.

For me, the peak of the night was the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto in E minor, Op. 64…this has always, since a little boy, been a memorable and emotional piece of music.

Mendelssohn had always wanted to write the perfect violin concerto for his friend, Ferdinand David, leader of the Gewandhaus Orchestra, Mendelssohn wrote,

"I should also like to write a violin concerto for you next winter. One in E minor runs in my head. The beginning which gives me no peace."

Just over six years after this letter was sent, he finished the concerto, sending the final draft to David.

This is a moving piece of music, sending one from the depths of sadness to the heights of ecstasy, a kind of 'beautiful sadness.' This music can send you to a truly wonderful place. As a little boy, I still remember the melody's images conjured…that of snow, so much white, more whiteness, cold and suffering, but a feeling of Noble suffering.

Sophie Rowell is a violinist of the highest order. To play any instrument, no matter what genre of music, seeing and hearing someone who has mastered their tool of expression is inspiring and converting a spiritual experience most profoundly and honestly. To be really honest, seeing her play brought me to tears…and awe…up and down the emotional scale like a schizoid off their medication. In all my years, I have never experienced such acute feelings in response to a piece of music. Sophie was absolutely a marvel, performing Mendelssohn as if the composition was her very own.

When the thirty-minute piece ended, not surprisingly, the audience went wild…." Bravo, Bravo…" And of course, Sophie came out for a second bow….amazing!

My friend and I left without speaking one word. Walking through the park under a star-lit night, words felt unnecessary, superfluous, our minds and souls submerged in the music. It was only much later that we began to converse, one-word utterances…wow, beautiful, unexpected, moving…

My night ended with the head finally hitting the pillow after a very long day…as Mendelssohn wafted in the air, falling to sleep.

Caravaggio’s Saint Jerome

This painting by Caravaggio (1571 – 1610) of Saint Jerome, deep in study, is one of the painter’s best examples of deep, rich colors, light, and his attention to detail.

Most renditions of Saint Jerome by painters and illustrators find him in his study because he was commissioned by Pope Damasus the 1st to revise the Latin text of the Bible, known as the ‘Vulgate’ that is still in use today.

Saint Jerome was born to a pagan family circa 365 C.E., to later study the law and become a lawyer. However, he soon later changed his subject of study to theology, where his true conversion to Christianity occurred. He was also baptized around this time.

Caravaggio’s life was short though full. But, to my way of thinking, he was a true genius with a hot temper, a love affair with alcohol, and was often described as “extremely crazy.”

This painting is not one of his best however reveals his genius for color and “realism”; now considered the founder of the Baroque period where his emphasis on deep shadow contrasting blinding light is the art movement’s definitive trademark, so to speak, and made him famous at the time.

Some art scholars have written that it was only in the early twentieth century that Caravaggio’s work had come back into vogue. I find this astonishing considering the man’s genius.

Saint Jerome is not so much remembered for his scholarly works but for the incident where he came upon a lion with a thorn in its paw. He removed the thorn without any protest from the king of beasts…and as legend has it, the lion remained at Saint Jerome’s side for many years.

He lived the last thirty years in the Holy Land, more or less a recluse, continuing to translate texts, write prayers biographies, and collect a vast library of scrolls.

Because he was a scholar of the Church, his patronage included: archaeologists, archivists, Bible scholars, librarians, translators, and school children.

Saint Augustine said about Saint Jerome:

What Jerome is ignorant of, no man has ever known.

This painting of Saint Jerome has to be one of my favorites of the artist’s entire body of work.

 

Love, and Forgotten (Notes from an old Journal).

 

I noticed that I haven't posted an entry for some time. I came across this recent piece in my "miscellaneous file" and thought I'd post it here…

When you are in love, everything matters and nothing matters; all that really makes a difference is that you are with them, in time, place, or circumstance; the area can be elite parties, train platforms, stranded in peak hour traffic; a large and beautiful church in the heart of the city or alone in a crowded café talking about the first time met… time and circumstance can be any hour any situation, all that you know is that love is lovely, and only when the vagaries of existence inevitably move in, does one realize how vital the passing seconds and minutes of life can be.

The morning was perfect, the air crisp, clean, and the expressions on those who walked through the city streets towards various destinations smiled, some frowning with worry. Yet, at the same time, others looked blank, half asleep and seemingly meandering without purpose, last night's dreams hovering around their heads.

Realizing that I had never had the opportunity, she wanted to show me St. Patrick's Cathedral and looking up towards the cityscape, the church's spires pushed towards the clear blue autumn sky. Looking down and ahead, the traffic whizzed along the streets heavy and without respite, as she would hold fast to my arm, pushing forward and towards the curb, believing she was steadily guiding my body from specific danger.

We arrived at St. Patrick's, the neo-gothic spires grand, pointing tall towards the heavens, standing with time, suddenly realizing that this architectural marvel will continue existing when this body is long gone.

Walking into the church, we knew a memorial, an essential remembrance of an individual of influence was taking place, an Australian whose most extraordinary claim to fame was not his "time on the football field" or "involvement in organized crime" but his groundbreaking work into medical research. The church's pews were filled to maximum capacity, the medical community paying their respects to a medical researcher who made the history books, contributing to a greater understanding of the human body's processes.

We found ourselves, it seemed, amongst Melbourne's entire medical community, a day off from their duties with their families to attend the funeral of Dr. John Billings, the co-discoverer of the relationship between cervical mucus and fertility, resulting in what was then known as the "Billings Method" or re-named in the early 1970s by the World Health Organization as the "Billings Ovulation Method" (BOM). This discovery has led to many unwanted pregnancies being "guiltlessly" avoided. Dr. Billings began his research while assisting marriage consultancy for the Catholic Family Welfare Bureau in the 1950s. (1)

I thought that this is an individual whose work and legacy stand firm and should be acknowledged in our national media. But, still, it wasn't… somehow the mainstream media were more concerned on that particular news day with injured footy players and the private lives of Australian 'celebrities' overseas.

After leaving the funeral, we silently walked the church grounds, admiring the statues of the saints, observing the parched lawns, the Asian tourists, and one another.

Melbourne is a beautiful city in the autumn.

I felt so much admiration today: for the loss and lack of proper acknowledgment of a critical Australian of science, but also finding myself falling into a state of fuzzy sentimentality...love. Trying to harness these feelings into a rational view is all but impossible on this day, at least.

Attempting to connect the Heart and the Head is a never-ending task that has proven, according to the great writers of the last few centuries, an improbable, if not futile, endeavor.

Today was a moment where neither the past nor the future existed, and only the ongoing and pleasant seconds of the passing present.

Diana Krall – The Girl in the Other Room - Comment.

 

The breezy and haunting sounds of The Girl in the Other Room has moved through the air of my home, gently filling the space with the resonating notes of a steady bass, the soft tapings of a high hat and cymbal, and a voice that feels to whisper the lingering lyrics of songs written from the soul. Diana's fingers seem to barely touch the keys of her instrument, her heart expressing the existence of languid spirits, lost loves and memories of abandonment, past affairs and the fading scent of summertime.

The music of Diana Krull redefines the meaning of the word "cool" or more so, brings its meaning back to its original roots, where cool can really only be expressed through the sounds of jazz and blues.

Most of these tunes are a creative collaboration between Diana Krall and the genius of Elvis Costello. (husband) It is entirely evident that these two artists' have that mysterious ability to bring their minds and souls together, creating some extraordinary music.

Hearing track twelve for the first time, Departure Bay, Diana's voice, like the magical chanting of an ancient magi, entered my being and opened my spirit to the endless possibilities of music, seemingly transporting the soul to other realities, beautiful worlds and landscapes, places the soul always yearns for in secret, waiting for the chance to finally go there...and stay.

Diana and Elvis Costello have truly exceeded themselves with these songs.

This CD is magical, strangely enchanting and truly mesmerizing.

War: propaganda, lies and more lies

It's getting to the point where having a calm and rational conversation with someone about the Russian/Ukraine war is near impossible. The propaganda in the West is particularly vile and one-sided. Since 2016 the American people and the West generally were led to believe that the elected president (Trump) was a Russian agent and the election was infiltrated by Russian spies and therefore invalid. The media pushed these evidence-free allegations about Russian interference and Trump as a Russian shill non-stop for over 4 years. The Mueller report found no such evidence about Russian meddling, let alone Trump being a Russian spy. But the damage was done. Not since the 1950s has Russia been so demonized as a true enemy of the Western world.

During any war or conflict, propaganda abounds from all sides of the information spectrum.

When teaching Year10 history, we devoted a week to WWI propaganda. Revealing to the students are the emotive posters and lying news clippings at the time; these examples brought them to laughter. "How could anyone in their right mind believe this nonsense." Granted, the current propaganda is much more sophisticated, but it's propaganda nevertheless.

Yes, for certain, the non-stop Russia-Gait lies had a profound effect on the psyches of the masses. However, now that Russia has invaded Ukraine, it's as if simply one day Putin decided to invade because of imperialist intentions to conquer Europe!

When one attempts to explain even the last years of Ukrainian history to someone, they refuse to listen and prefer to believe the propaganda. Delving more profound in the whys and wherefores for war is a thought process many refuse to entertain. What's even worse, even attempting to dig deeper into the geopolitical situation, simply asking questions, you're either censored, called a Putin puppet, or unpatriotic. This is insane.

Those governments in the West, specifically the UK, USA, France, Australia, and New Zealand, have zero moral right to criticize Russia for invading Ukraine. The US and their allies have been waging war on sovereign nations since at least the 1960s. This is not to mention the violent meddling in Southern American countries since WWII. Indeed, currently, the US is occupying a part of a resource-rich area in Syria; and as then-president Trump proclaimed: 'We're protecting the oil".

Over the last 20 years, the US set the middle east on fire. Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan, etc. Israel is recognized by the United Nations as an apartheid state. The Israeli government has occupied and oppressed the Palestinians for well over 50 years. Palestine has been called by many a genocide in slow motion. Libya is now a failed state when once it was the most flourishing state in the continent of Africa. The US, UK, and NATO ensured Libya's destruction. Yet not a peep from our current protesters against the above war crimes on record for "democracy" and "freedom" that they're currently ranting and protesting for Ukraine. Is this ignorance or intentional memory loss by the world?

I believe it is a bit of both compounded by the unrelenting anti-Russia propaganda that's been waged on the people of the West for the last 5-10 years.

I've been protesting and writing against war for many years. Russia's invasion of Ukraine is a war crime. But let's not forget the western allies' war crimes over the last 30 years. The occupation of Syria, the genocide in Yemen; the occupation in Somalia; the total destruction of Libya; the 20-year war in Afghanistan that is now being sanctioned, causing undue starvation and a vast exodus of women and children out of the country.

These people in the middle east are deemed "unworthy victims" once coined by the writer of Manufacturing Consent, Noam Chomsky. Then there are "worthy victims" like the Ukrainians in this war. Spot the difference... it's not that difficult.

As citizens of the world, we should all despise war. War is a tool of the powerful to gain more power and profit. Ideas like democracy, freedom, and patriotism are rhetorical tools to hide the genuine reasons for war. This has been the case for 100 years, at least in the time of our modern world.

The only people who suffer war are the innocents, and those pushed to fight it.

Diplomacy (communication) in the case of Ukraine must reign to avoid the total destruction of the entire planet: 

WWIII.

“Enigma” by Gustave Dore.

 

The word "enigma" is defined as a mystery, secret or closed book. It can also be described as a puzzle, a problem requiring 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 describe… an actual unsolvable event or thing.

This has to be one of my favorite 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 works of art where one can sit and look for hours, continuing to discover new aspects, new things that are never seen before.

For me, the painting somehow makes "sense" but on a very abstract "imaginative" level.

So what is Dore's "Enigma" showing us?

The scene is a battlefield 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 barred situation of desperation, as if the victor 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 an 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.

Vladimir Nabokov -Speak, Memory - Review

It is known that the great author worked on this project for many years, collecting photographs, letters, scraps of unfinished poetry, searching his past to write a close to an accurate account of his early life. In fact, this autobiography is atypical, similar to a wandering mind, grasping at images, sights and smells, recollections, reminisces, rather than a chronological,' factual' version of a life lived.

The opening sentence of Speak, Memory, to my mind, is probably one of the most moving and haunting recollections in an autobiography ever read:

"The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness."

The narrator continues on to describe a young chronophobiac who experienced panic when he viewed an old home movie, seeing his mother waving from an upstairs window and below, a brand-new baby carriage standing alone, realizing that the carriage was his own days before his actual birth. This disturbed him as the feeling of peering at a world days before he came into existence, sort of a reverse course of events, was akin to staring directly into eternity.

Nabokov's childhood and adolescence were an enchanting one, part of an aristocratic family, a beautiful mother, and a liberal-minded father who had a vast library, where little Vladimir would arrive home to find him practicing his fencing, the clanging of blades, with a colleague. This was a civilized existence in St. Petersburg before the onslaught of the Russian Revolution. Like most aristocratic families at the time, the Bolsheviks seized the family fortune, forcing the family to flee their beloved Russia to Germany. But when Nabokov looks back at this tumultuous period, he says,

"My old (since 1917) quarrel with the Soviet Dictatorship is wholly unrelated to any question of property. The nostalgia I have been cherishing all these years is a hypertrophied sense of lost childhood, not sorrow for lost banknotes."

The book is strewn with old black and white photographs of Nabokov's family. One particular picture of his father and mother was taken circa 1900 at their estate at Vrya, which really depicts the author's father's aristocratic demeanor and pure strength. In the background are the birches and firs of the countryside where Nabokov discovered his life-long passion for butterfly collecting.

Even if the reader is not familiar with the great novels of Nabokov: Lolita, Pale Fire, The Eye, and many others, will undoubtedly enjoy this unique and brilliantly written autobiography by one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century.

The Green Manifestation in the Sky.

It was in the summer of 1970, walking towards home after visiting a friend, where, looking up in the sky, a deep green object hovered above without the slightest movement, as if stagnate, placed, a "thing" not of this world. The sighting did not frighten me but brought on feelings of exuberance, the vital energy of absolute vigor.

As a young boy at the time, through my innocence, anything was possible.

It remained motionless, this deep, green blob in the sky.

To ensure I was not hallucinating, I looked around the street for someone to corroborate this vision, proof that I wasn't merely "seeing things."

When the sun was about to disappear, it was that time of warm summer dusk.

Looking around, not one person could be seen, all inside at this beautiful time when day turns to night. It's a lovely evening, I thought, where is everybody?

My stare turned upward again, and the green blob continued to remain stagnate for all the world to see.

I began to run as fast as possible towards home. Then, out of breath, bending over and placing my hands on my knees, and finally home, I looked up at the sky, and the green blob had left as if it was never there in the first place.

Told my mother and sister about the sighting, and they nodded their heads as if to say, "You've seen things all your life. What's so different now?"

Many years later, in my Year 10 English class on a hot afternoon without air conditioning, it is now fifty years later.

On these occasions, students simply do not want to work: Friday, last period, hot as heck, and re-learning "conjunctions" is out of the question.

"Tell us one of your stories, Mr. M?"

I've been telling this particular English class stories the entire term because it stimulates discussion - true-life stories and some concerning the supernatural.

"As I recall, this story was during my time living in Brighton in a haunted house...

"Has anyone else experienced something out of the ordinary?"

The class was silent, unusual for that time of day. Then, one of my shy students, Rachael, raised her hand.

"Believe it or not, and I don't care if you believe me, but I saw something in the sky that shouldn't have been there...I was around 11 years of age, and in the sky was this dark green "thing" that didn't move; it looked like a big, green blob. I looked around to see if anyone was around to see it too, but no one...then it disappeared. But I swear I saw it, and I'll never forget it!"

A chill went down my spine as I sat on the desk in front of the class. All their eyes turned to me as my expression must have been a little strange.

Then Andrew piped up, "Have you seen the same thing, Mr. M?"

Reluctantly, I admitted to having had seen something very similar at age eleven and have never heard about it for thirty years until Rachael told her story.

The class was silent, then burst into animation as it was only a few seconds before the bell rang to begin their weekend.

The bell rang, and I duly dismissed the class. Rachael stayed behind and asked,

"Did you really see that "thing"?

I merely nodded.

She left the classroom with the biggest smile on her face - at last, some kind of corroboration.

'At least I'm not the only crazy person in the world.'

This green manifestation in the sky has never appeared again.

Marc Chagall & Plato’s The Symposium

 It can be observed that most of Marc Chagall's work is an expression of his philosophy, his religious sensibility if you will, in the form of the "literalization of metaphors," deeply grounded in the mystical and symbolic Hasidic world and Yiddish folktales, which include in their writings the "repository of flying animals and miraculous events." (Wilson, 2007)

It is impossible to label Chagall's work as "Expressionism," but the representation of an acute imagination, colored in fantasy, depicting highly charged religious symbols, including in several works, Christs Crucifixion in a variety of contexts. What I love about Chagall is the viewer is drawn into the work by its striking color and busy subjectf999 matter and is compelled to study it because the meaning of the painting must be discovered as it is not apparent on a superficial viewing.

My favorite paintings by the artist are his various representations of love that display an ethereal, mystical quality, a sublimeness that to me captures love in their most revealing forms, as the author, Jonathan Wilson, writer of the latest biography of the artist, states:

"Chagall's vision of love, so appealing to the human soul, frequently involves a merging of two faces, or bodies, into one. In this regard, he is Platonic, as his figures pursue their other halves in an apparent longing to become whole again. Over and again, he paints the myth that Aristophanes recounts in The Symposium."

This notion is apparent in the painting depicted above; the merging of "two into one."

Chagall's life, Wilson suggests, was an attempt through his art at the reconciliation between two worlds, a genuine effort at universalizing or merging opposites, he writes,

"In his paintings, past and present, dream and reality, rabbi and clown, secular and observant, revolutionary and Jew, Jesus and Elijah...all commingle and merge in a world where history and geography but also the laws of physics and nature have been suspended."

Chagall was a man with an extraordinary imagination, an astonishing amount of energy and ambition, and considered by art historians as one of the true icons of Modernism along with Picasso and Matisse.

Source: Wilson, J.
Marc Chagall
Random House 2007

United States

Hylas and the Nymphs & Muriel Foster

My favorite art movement aside from German Expressionism was the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood (PRB), and my favourite artist from that time would have to be John William Waterhouse.

Like most of the Pre-Raphaelites, Waterhouse painted exotic scenes from poetry, myth, and legends. It is a neo-classic style that more often tells a story, depicting a dramatic moment.

I wrote about visiting the Victorian National Gallery and witnessing the original 'Ulysses and the Sirens' by Waterhouse, and how seeing the actual painting against my print, that has hung on my walls for years, was a much more meaningful experience, as one can see aspects in the image that one cannot see in a mere copy.

The most interesting about almost all of Waterhouse's paintings is that he used the same model for most of his work. She was one of the best-kept secrets in the art world for many years. In most of J.W.'s paintings, whether depicting Sirens, Nymphs, garden scenes, or historical representations, this model's face is in just about every image. So who was she, and what was Waterhouse's relationship with her that captivated him so, inspiring so many beautiful paintings?

We have come to discover that her name was Muriel Foster. She is the quintessential classical beauty with that lovely face and slender figure. However, it was only in 1981 that a sketch by Waterhouse was discovered, and written along the bottom of the drawing bears her name.

She first appears at the speculative age of fifteen in Waterhouse's 'La Belle Dame Sans Merci,' where, from that point on, she appears in most of his paintings until his last unfinished work because of his death, 'The Enchanted Garden,' which is considered the artists' best work despite being unfinished.

We see Muriel Foster grow older with utter grace in Waterhouse's paintings, the most distinctive being 'My Sweet Rose', seeing her in a beautiful bohemian green gown, her elegant red hair, tied back, smelling a rose, and her lovely slender hands touching the flowers.

As it happen to be the Victorian era, where sexual hypocrisy reigned supreme, and most artists at the time always sketched their models in the nude at the start of their specific project, (A common practice of the time) rumor did and has run out of control about their 'true' relationship.

In the present time, who really cares, but I have my own thoughts on the matter…that she was his lover, inspiration, and 'muse.' Waterhouse had all the middle-class facades: a good family man who lived in Italy than London. He had six children and loved them dearly, supporting his family from his art.

In Hylas and the Nymphs, Ms. Foster's face is on all dangerous water beings.

This story is from Greek mythology, where Hercules and his long-time companion, Hylas, traveled with Jason and the Argonauts, searching for the Golden Fleece. It was known throughout the ancient world of Hylas's beauty…he was sought after by many queens and royalty because of his incredible beauty. Because of his unbending loyalty to Hercules, half-human, and half-god, he promised to never leave his side.

In the painting by Waterhouse, are Hylas' last few moments before being pulled into the magical pond of the enticing nymphs, who could not resist taking him because of his incredible beauty.

This happened on an unknown island where Jason and his crew stopped to retrieve water and food to continue their quest.

It was time to set sail, but Hylas had not returned. Hercules searched the island for hours for his friend, but he had already been taken to another world. Hercules refused to leave without his long-time companion. Jason promised to return once his quest for the Golden Fleece had been accomplished.

Hercules wandered the island for many years searching for Hylas, his echoing screams unrelenting. It was there on that tiny island that Hercules died of a broken heart, never to see his beloved Hylas again.

This painting depicts the exact second where Hylas loses his life...taken by the nymphs, all of them with the face of Muriel Foster.

This is a beautiful painting focusing on a specific dramatic scene in the tale. The print, the second one I purchased of Waterhouse, has a significant meaning for me, that is to say, love lost, beauty, and the steadfast loyalty of a friend.