In the Labyrinth

Botte Piccola Fa Vino Buono

A lovely Italian phrase that translates as " A small cask makes good wine"  is an Italian compliment to a short person.  I reply by stretching to my 5' 1" height, Grazie! 

 

 

 

(Art: Philippe Mercier 1689 -- 1760)

Wily Rascal: My Grandfather, Pierre Menager

 

 

So my maternal grandfather Emmanuel Pierre Menager was something of a coyote trickster -- an itinerant artist, a womanizer (an occasional bigamist) but nonetheless, a rather magical person when he showed up our house. Though I suspect my parents -- especially my father was less than pleased (despite the fact that Pierre was an amazing cook). Pierre always needed money -- and even though they were broke graduate students, my parents always sent some. Here is a photo of my brother and I with Pierre during an early visit in California. My parents must have mailed or given him the photo. And he mailed it back with a short message -- an address and an amount. (And yeah...that would be me up there rocking the pig tails at about 2 years old.)

Interlude in the Research: Call in the Clowns, Satyrs, Fools, and Nymphs.

 

Amid all this heavy lifting of my research notes, I re-read my essay, "A Chorus of Clowns and Masked Comic Theater" " written for Realms of Fantasy on the history of clowns, from antiquity to the Marx Brothers. It's funny, and I enjoyed re-reading it as it provides a comprehensive view of the different forms of improvisational theater. It is an excellent moment to add here as it describes the masks in action, wild, ribald, pranking, shouting, and generally enjoying themselves to our benefit.

From the essay:

"In the middle of winter, when it is so gray I can't take it anymore, I rent as many Marx Brothers movies as possible. Something about the zany interaction of these "clowns" creates havoc in a department store, a racetrack, or the stateroom of an ocean liner that brightens the day's dullness. Then there is that crackling, fast dialogue, most of it famously improvised, and the elaborate musical numbers, ridiculous dances, and absurd moments of slapstick. Perhaps because I know they are four brothers, I sense a kinship in their characters. Although each one wears a different costume and "mask," there is a synchronicity in their performance — for while each one constructs his own comedic business, they do not act alone but in a chorus of clowns.

"Watching them, I sense much older traditions layered beneath the surface of their film performances. It is easy to imagine Groucho with satyr's hooves or Harpo in the round,–mouth mask of an ancient Fool. Inspired by the antics of the Marx Brothers, I decided to review the roots of clowning in the early Southern European history of theater clowns — not the circus clowns — but those masked characters who rose out of early pagan cults and then developed into secular, irreverent tricksters and mirrors of human behavior...."

"...The chorus of clowns rips apart polite society and in that act, exposes our true feelings. In this joyful disorder, we remember primal emotions: we lust, we become envious, we are starved for affection and fame, and we long for an illusive, trouble–free happiness. We would rather sleep than work; we are clever and undeniably foolish at times. We are complicated and conflicted; no single character can carry the weight of many inconsistencies. We need a chorus of clowns to speak for us. Despite their secular natures, the clowns are still mythic to me. Humor is an old response to fear of the unknown and contempt for the familiar. For 3,000 years, somewhere, a chorus of clowns has misbehaved, and in their audacity, called down gods, heroes, and legends for a face-to-face meeting with humanity, offering laughter as a form of reverence."

People Inconvienced by Objects and Thoughts

I love these wildly imaginative graphite portraits of "People Inconvenienced by Objects and Thought" by Stefan Zsaitits. They look almost exactly how my head feels right now. itchy, scratchy, and aggravated by an eye infection. 

It has been something of a rough road for these last four months as we traveled from Longmont, Colorado, to Tucson, Arizona, and then to Pittsburgh, where I am now awaiting the flight that will return us to our home in Longmont. It was good seeing so many friends that we have missed and many of our relatives scattered all over the country. 

Marginalia: Kissing Snails

Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could publish our novels with such lovely marginalia? There is something so unexpectedly tender about these two snails meeting and kissing in the margin. Marginalia art has a vital life of its own -- existing side by side with text but not necessarily commenting on the reader. It's the mind reading and wandering a little bit, hearing the whispered words in the head, but delighting in the visual art that sidetracks and then returns one to the text, refreshed. And all in a matter of moments.

Art: Bibliothèque municipale de Lyon, Ms 6881, detail of f. 72. Book of Hours, use of Chalon. 15th century.

Daniel Mitsui: Bookplates

I discovered Daniel Mitsui , an American-Japanese artist through one of my favorite blogs that has now sadly has disappeared. Mitsui is an artist in Chicago who concentrates on sacred artwork in the medieval tradition as well as biological illustrations. His work, painstaking and gorgeous black and white illustrations, are all done in pen and ink and by hand. I have posted an example of his beautiful bookplates

 

 

   The beautiful color work below is Mitsui's Japanese vision of the Angels' battle against Satan. 

 

                                                        

Tintoretto and The Origin of the Milky Way

 

This is a really gorgeous painting by Jacopo Tintoretto depicting the "Origin of the Milky Way, 1575-1580." Jupiter (Zeus) seeks to give immortality to his son, Hercules, conceived during an illicit affair with a mortal woman Alcmene. He knows that only the breast milk of a goddess can accomplish such a thing and as luck would have it Juno (Hera) is lactating. Jupiter discovers Juno sleeping and attempts to latch the baby to her breast -- thinking she might not notice (really? ) When she wakes and pulls her breast away from the feeding infant, her milk sprays into the heavens and produces the stars. (Click on the image to see a larger version)

Here is a wonderful and incredibly informative little podcast about The Origin of the Milky Way from Karen Allen of the National Gallery in England exploring the wealth of creation myths alluded to in the painting (including the origin of lillies) and lovely details about Tintoretto's artistic storytelling. It's fabulous.