Isle of the Dead

Detail of Island of the Dead III (1883) by Arnold Bocklin


Sergei Rachmaninoff was born on April 1, 1873.

I'm not the biggest fan of his work, but there are some memorable compositions. My favorite piece is Isle of the Dead, Op.29, a symphonic poem written in 1908. It captures the late Romantic aesthetic perfectly, with heavy orchestral sounds and a focus on the Sublime.

In my youth, I was very ambivalent about Rachmaninoff. Sometimes I would dismiss his music as "schlock" or "overweight and overwrought" or some over such insult, but, upon hearing Isle of the Dead, I noticed the artistry in the thickness of sound, the lyricism that can only emerge from lush orchestrations.

I can't say that it converted me into an enthusiast, but I looked upon his work anew, appreciating the unique vision for its own values, for its own approach to art.

So, take a mental trip on Charon's ferry across the River Styx. But don't drink of the River Lethe; you will want to remember this music. ;-)

For Emily

Emily Dickinson was born on December 10, 1830.


Exultation is the going (75)
(By Emily Dickinson)

Exultation is the going
Of an inland soul to sea,
Past the houses - past the headlands -
Into deep Eternity

Bred as we, among the mountains,
Can the sailor understand
The divine intoxication
Of the first league out from land?


Did you really think that I wasn't going to celebrate Emily Dickinson's birth date?

I could write a daily blog, all about my adoration for Emily. I could make podcasts, reciting and reflecting upon her verse. I could drift into insanity, obsessing over every word and phrase. So, instead, I dole out her words, as an occasional treat.

But on special days, it is permissible, even admirable, to engage in poetic gluttony. ;-)

Danse Macabre

Dance of Death (1493) by Michael Wolgemut


October 9, 1835 is the birth date of Camille Saint-Saens.

This isn't a "Classical Music" blog, but I was thinking of sneaking in a little Spooky Sunday fun for an early October evening. One of Saint-Saens' most famous pieces is the Danse Macabre. This tone poem is based on a story in which Death appears at midnight every Halloween and summons up the dead from their graves. To the sound of Death's violin, they dance until sunrise. Then they return into the earth and wait for another year to pass so that they can enjoy another night of liberating dance.

In late medieval lore, the danse macabre was symbolic of the universality of death. Regardless of your age, wealth, social status, or personal talents, the Reaper was always at your side. Death was waiting for all mortals. And so Life was nothing but a dance on the way to the grave.

Morbid stuff!!!

Dance of the Dolls (2011) by Anthony Clarkson

But I find the imagery fascinating. Dancing is such vigorous and life-affirming activity that the combination with Death creates a transgressive thrill. Lifeless things should not be dancing. And dancers should not be dead.

Malign Sentience of the Souless Stone

Tomb effigies of the Knights Templar, Temple Church, London

Have you every looked upon a funerary sculpture and imagined the horror that you would feel if it suddenly began to move? There is something vaguely disquieting about such statues and carvings. It's as if they are receptacles for the disembodied spirit of the restless dead. The body of flesh and blood may have decayed into nothingness, but that enduring stone figure presents a cold home for defiant, damned spirit.

And that's the premise of E. Nesbit's classic ghost story, Man-Size in Marble, written in 1893. A newlywed couple finds a delightful cottage, but it has a dreadful connection to the effigies of two knights, known for their maliciousness, entombed at the nearby church. And one night of the year, as local superstition would have it, the inanimate stone becomes animate.

This isn't the best of ghost stories. It's a predictable plot and has annoying characters. But the concept is delightfully chilling. Yeah, it's kind of a cheap thrill, but I always enjoy the dark visions that Man-Size in Marble conjures up in my imagination.

Effigy of Sir Richard Lee in St. Mary's Church, Acton Burnell, Shropshire (Photo by Tom Oates, 2009)

I read this story as a child. Nesbit was a writer of children's fiction. So, I had developed an interest in her stories. Wow! Her Tales of Terror gave me many a sleepless night. But it helped build the foundation for my lifelong explorations into ghostly fiction, both as a reader and as a writer. So, this tale has sentimental value for me. ;-)

Seeking the Sublime

Detail of Man and Woman Contemplating the Moon (1830-35) by Caspar David Friedrich

I always have a tough time listing my favorite anything, from book to movie to song. This is also true in choosing my favorite painters. However, I'm certain the Caspar David Friedrich consistently makes the top five. Friedrich was born on this date in 1774, so let's take the opportunity to appreciate his unique genius.

I feel that his style is the definitive look to Romanticism, especially as regards contemplation of the Sublime. Moreover, his muted colors and overwhelming spaces creates that sense of loneliness or insignificance that characterizes the later Gothic aesthetic. Additionally, his focus on death and transience works as a critique of materialism and the "heroic arrogance" of classicism and neo-classicism.

In Friedrich's world, the sublime grandeur of Nature reduces human accomplishment and material ambition to inconsequential ruins. It's a profoundly terrifying view that has influenced Western aesthetics up to the contemporary era.


Detail of Wanderer above the Sea of Fog (1818) by Caspar David Friedrich


So what can humanity do? Contemplate the awesome spiritual immensity of the Sublime.

Peddlers of Death

Detail from Peddlers of Death by David Stoupakis

I've been meaning to write a glowing review about the current exhibit of David Stoupakis' and Tom Bagshaw's work at the Corey Helford Gallery in Culver City. Since it's closing on August 27, I figured it was now or never. So although there is only one week left for this show, I think it is excellent enough to merit my writing time and your viewing time.

I've got a fascination with morbid topics, such as death, ghosts, horror stories, and most sorts of Gothic styling. Both of the artists on exhibit deliver on the dark imagery, albeit in different manners. David Stoupakis presents a haunting set of serious imagery in his show "Walking Within These Shadows" in which ghostly young women or girls drift wraithlike within a gloom-filled, Stygian environment. These images hint at an underlying narrative of death and sorrow.



The Choice by David Stoupakis


The milky eyes and pale flesh of his figures imbue even the robust images with an enervating sensation of undeath. They are animated by a mysterious, umbral energy.

Ominous Bird of Yore

The Raven by Edouard Manet (1875)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore —
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
            Only this and nothing more."

That's the opening stanza to Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven", first published in 1845. Over the past few weeks, I've been discussing ghost stories. This poem isn't exactly a ghost story, but it plays off a related trope, the obsessive sorrow of the bereaved turning into madness. Although the story holds no supernatural occurrences, the protagonist is still "haunted" by their memory and desire for the departed. Later authors, such as Henry James or Edith Wharton, will follow in Poe's footsteps addressing this trope in their own style.



The Raven by John Tenniel (1858)


I'm a big fan of Poe's work. It's hard to say which of his works is my favorite. But "The Raven" is certainly a contender. ;-)

Dressed in Their Summer Clothes

Black Rose by Ketmara

On this date in 1966, the first "emo" rock song hit the #1 position of the Billboard chart, Paint It, Black by the Rolling Stones.

Yeah, I know that there was a long history of "teen tragedy" songs that came before Paint It, Black, such as Last Kiss by Wayne Cochran or Teen Angel by Mark Dinning. However, I'd argue that, although these are "songs of sorrow", they don't have the requisite nihilistic angst that properly marks a song as being of the "emo" subgenre.

In the "teen tragedy" subgenre, the singer is helpless and passive under the weight of despair. In the "emo" subgenre, the singer becomes an active participant in their grief. For the "teen tragedian" the world is painted black. For the "emo", they want to paint it black.

Take Up Our Quarrel

California Poppies

96 years ago, John McCrae wrote the poem "In Flanders Fields." This poem has never rested easily with me. On one hand, it is obviously proper to honor the lives of the dead. But on the other hand, it seems foolish to pursue a course of action just so as to not "break faith" with those who have died in this cause. If the living do not take up the quarrel, it is an admission that those who have died have died in vain, for a bad cause. It is only natural to feel that this would dishonor their sacrifice.

But to continue sacrificing people to a bad cause dishonors and disrespects the living. And that is the priority. The Dead are beyond our ability to help. We can only remember them. The Living have potential in this world. This should not be squandered pursuing a foolish course of action.

I guess my feeling is that our ethical obligations are for the Future, not to the Past. Sad though it may be, the Dead are of the Past. There is no moral justification in risking the Future by keeping faith with the Past. There is no redemption in pursuing a failed cause.

Here is a link to the Wikipedia page for In Flanders Field.

Peace.

And the Dead Will Pray for You.

Continuing our celebration of Chopin's music in an angsty, Romantic style. Euterpe weeps over her broken lyre.