Other Places,
Other Times
Gaugin
halo
apples
serpent
red upper and yellow lower half framing
Self Portrait
white bonnets
praying women
"very small" cow
a fiery red ground beneath
Jacob Wrestling with the Angel
orange trees
purpling horizon
bilious hills
a prismatic cross holding
The Yellow Christ
cut flowers
sarongs at mid waist
three breasts exposed
the pensive olive figures of
Two Tahitian Women
Courtly Love
Surprisingly for those feudal times, it was a
refined game of love in which a woman
might hold the power cards.
To prove his devotion and intent
the courting knight was expected
to declare himself her humble servant,
to show his unwavering devotion,
to obey her without question,
to call his lady "my Lord."
Thus, if she sent word to do his worst
he'd lose tournament jousts all day.
And if she commanded him to do his best
he'd route all comers and take the prize.
However refined the motive, he'd stoop
to the cheapest theatrics to impress her.
So, to keep his lady in his sight at all times
he'd fight with his sword behind him.
The best found it in themselves
to live a better life on a larger stage,
to be and achieve greater.
The Rape of Helen
There is a decorous backstory on an adjacent canvas.
A blonde Paris sits before three elaborately coiffed standing goddesses.
The four all look calm. There is no hint here of what this moment
Might be prelude to, to what the other, later, canvas might show.
And here it is, foregrounded, without any hint of evasion.
Paris in red tights and gold-colored cape and boots
Has lifted the more drably colored Helen off of her feet.
Her bosom tight against his chest, she gasps, red shoes kicking air.
In the background, a tidy ship with a golden sail and fittings
Waits to carry them from this place of monstrous action,
From the exuberance and passion that it alone has witnessed
To other shores and another story, turbulent in a different way.
The viewer is left to ponder whether or how to assign blame:
To the gods, to the humans, or to an enduring need for color in life.
Ladies Waiting in a Bar
The theme is timeless, but the scene is not.
These four painted ladies in their tightly composed group
Live forever in the 1920s as if frozen in amber. They are
all we see except for some bottles on the bar edge.
The standing central figure is poised like a ballerina,
With raised arms crossed over her felt cap above crossed feet,
She gazes off to the side. Like petals, her skirt edges curl upward.
Magically, a drink with a straw in a tall gas hovers beside her.
Closest, and to her left, a heavy seated woman with short black hair
That hugs her scalp. She is hunched and leaning forward. Her arms
Clasped around her stomach. Her gaze is down and inward,
As if imagining herself in some other time and place.
Across from her, closer to the foreground, is a fat woman in a black dress
With even shorter brown hair and vivid red lips. She holds a drink
On her crossed right knee, and a lit cigarette level with her large breasts.
Interested in business, she looks outward frankly, inquiringly.
The fourth woman, the one closest to us, stands looking out.
Leaning her left elbow on the bar, that hand cupping her cheek,
The right arm is akimbo. Underneath blonde curls, her wide eyes
Stare out at us as if to ask us what we think we see.
El deseo es rojo
You like to smile.
But you are like a fire
that wants to burn
forever. I like your
wide, white smile
framed by two vivid
red lips. Your hair
as well: a mane of
red that wants to be
admired. Attracted,
I draw nearer to
the thirsty flame.