Migraines or Metaphysics?

Lewis Carroll, the author of Alice in Wonderland, suffered from terrible headaches. They were painful and made him feel weird about himself.

In 1955, the British psychiatrist, John Todd, began studying symptoms related to migraines and epilepsy. Noticing that certain kinds of migraines provoked a sense of depersonalization and an altered perception of the self, he tried to understand why. The symptoms made him think of Alice after falling into the rabbit hole. So he decided to name this condition the Alice in Wonderland Syndrome (AIWS).

The British mathematician, Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, aka Lewis Carroll, often wrote in his diaries about his migraines and the aural phenomena that preceded them.

In 1862, Carroll and a clergyman friend took the three young Liddell sisters on a boat ride down the Thames. To keep them entertained, Carroll invented the story of Alice and her adventures in the rabbit hole. Alice Liddell, age 10 at the time, liked the story so much that she insisted Carroll write it for her.

Alice was the daughter of the dean of the college where Carroll taught. At the time, Carroll had developed a passion for photography and began taking photos of Alice and her sisters.

Carroll did not limit his interests to the Liddell sisters. He had many young “playmates” that he’d send letters to full of puns, puzzles, and requests for locks of hair. Carroll also asked them to sit on his lap semi-naked and pose for a photo. A very strong Peter Pan Jim Barrie vibe for me.

Initially Victorians were ok with photos of children in costume and/or partially undressed. But as the Victorians began to become interested in psychoanalytical theory, attitudes changed.

Giorgio de Chirico (1888-1978) was born in Athens. His father was an Italian railroad engineer busy putting up rails in Greece whereas his mother was a baroness of Genoese-Greek origins.

When de Chirico was 17, his father died and his mother decided that it was time to return to Italy. In Italy de Chirico began studying at the Academy of Fine Arts in Florence. But in 1911, de Chirico and his brother, Alberto Savinio, moved to Paris but had to return to Italy to enroll in the army as WWI broke out.

In 1817, the French writer Stendhal was visiting the church of Santa Croce in Florence. Fascinated, he couldn’t stop himself from wandering around it to admire its beauty. But after a while, he began to feel ill. He writes: “My heart was pounding, and I felt dizzy. All those works of extraordinary workmanship, so compressed into a limited space, were really too much for an aesthetic lover like me.

I had reached that level of emotion where the celestial sensations given by the arts and passionate feelings come together. Coming out of Santa Croce, I had a [strong] heartbeat; it was as if my life had dried up, I walked fearing I would fall.” A hundred years later, de Chirico would also experience an overwhelming sensation inside Santa Croce.

Almost 100 years later, de Chirico would have a similar sensation. In 1909, the artist was sitting in Piazza Santa Croce looking at the church. He’d recently recovered from an illness and was feeling weird. De Chirico writes that he was in “a nearly morbid state of sensitivity” causing him to feel as if he was seeing his surroundings for the first time. But he sees this epiphany moment as an enigma. Is the world in disguise? Is everyday life something so alien that one can never feel at home?

Metaphysics in philosophy exams the structure of reality. But how can one ever know what is real and what is not?

The Song of Love (1914) pursues the enigmas de Chirico was consumed by. There are certain recurring elements in these paintings such as the architectural setting, the Greek statues, and the trains puffing smoke. The latter is most likely a reference to his dad who helped with the construction of the Greek railroads.

The Uncertainty of the Poet (1913) shows the torso of Aphrodite next to a bunch of bananas that remind me of Josephine Baker’s dance costume.

In The Soothsayer’s Recompense, once again we have an empty city square, a train puffing smoke, and a Greek statue. This statue represents Ariadne, the daughter of Minos who helped Theseus escape from the Minotaur’s labyrinth. But once a free man, Theseus dumped Ariadne on the island of Naxos. He may be considered by some to be a divine hero but he most certainly was not a gentleman.

De Chirico spent the last 30 years of his life living at Piazza di Spagna in Rome with his wife Isabella Pakszwer Far. They had a magnificent home and a magnificent terrace that looked towards Villa Medici.

De Chirico, “Pictor Optimus”, although initially buried at the Verano Monumental Cemetery in Rome, was later reburied in the church of San Francesco a Ripa whereas his brother Alberto Savinio remained at Verano.

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Related: Brakes, Daphne du Maurier and Jim Barrie +

Giorgio de Chirico, The Soothsayer’s Recompense + Who Was Giorgio de Chirico? + The Neurology of Art – The Example of Giorgio de Chirico + Enigmas in Philip Guston’s de Chirico City + Video: Migraine aura +  Famous Artists with Migraine Throughout History + Rabbit Hole Syndrome: Inadvertent, accelerating, and entrenched commitment to conspiracy beliefs + The Neurological Disorders in Alice in Wonderland + Alice in Wonderland inspiration + De Chirico: le fasi pittoriche e l’influenza dell’aura emicranica +

Posted in Art Narratives, Drawings & Paintings, Rome/Italy, Verano Monumental Cemetery | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Pentimento

In Johannes Vermeer’s A Maid Asleep, a young maid is dozing at the table after drinking too much wine. One glass of wine in front of her is empty whereas another vine vessel has fallen on the rumpled table carpet. It is the trace evidence that the young woman has been naughty. This “misbehavior” of unsupervised maidservants was a common subject for 17th cen. Dutch painters.

Here is Vermeer’s initial exploration of domestic interior themes that were becoming popular in the Netherlands at the time. And to create the right mood, Vermeer had a collection of props he used for his paintings. Many of the objects such as the table carpet, the chair with studs, and the fruit bowl in A Maid Asleep can be seen in other Vermeer paintings.

X-rays show a figure of a man holding a brush and a dog looking at him were once painted in near the doorway then painted out. It’s believed the obliterated man was probably a self-portrait of Vermeer.

Artists often change their mind about the composition of their paintings and try to obliterate the now unwanted part by overpainting it away. This change of mind by the artist is known as “pentimento” from the Italian verb “pentirsi” meaning “to repent”.

In Vermeer’s Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window, there’s evidence of another pentimento. This time it’s a painting of Cupid with his bows and arrows. Often Cupid was depicted trampling a mask with his foot. As a mask represents duplicity, throwing a mask on the ground signifies Cupid’s contempt for deception in love.

Related:  The Met’s Vermeer may contain a hidden self-portrait of the artist at work + The Mysterious Cupid and Johannes Vermeer’s Paintings + Vermeer’s ‘hidden’ Cupid is the enigmatic artist’s latest mystery +  Five hidden symbols in Vermeer’s paintings +

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The French Door

Although they’re called “French” doors, they actually orginated in Greece and Italy. But in the 17th cen, France, inspirted by their victories in the Italian wars, appropriated them as their own.

The glass permits light to travel so they are also used indoors, too.

In 1917 at the age of 48, Henri Matisse went to Nice to recuperate from a bad bronchitis. He stayed at the Beau Rivage, then a modest hotel. The weather was so cold that Matisse couldn’t go out so he painted indoors.

Matisse later transferred to the Hotel de la Mediterranee, another modest hotel that was demolished during the 1930s.

The French Window at Nice by Matisse, 1919

Woman at the Window by Matisse

Through an Open Window by Matisse

The Closed Window by Matisse c 1919

Woman on a Sofa by Matisse

Related: French Riviera + Italian Wars +

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Cin cin Brin

for Pina

Today I wanted to glow and make my life photogenic. So I bounced to the bar at my neighborhood park for an aperitif.

Since I was alone, I took a book. You know, an old woman drinking Campari late in the morning could give the wrong impression. But if you are reading something other than a smart phone, it gives your presence a totally different vibe.

The book I took was Irine Brin’s Olga a Belgrado. Irene Brin (1914-1969) was a writer, art dealer, and creator of Made in Italy (read more about her HERE). Strangely enough, few Italians seem to know who she is.

Irene was born into a progressive Ligurian family that believed in education. She was thus very well read and spoke four languages. Unfortunately, the National Fascists Party governed the Kingdom of Italy from 1922-1943 so it was the dominating political party when Irene was growing up.

In her early 20s while dancing at the Hotel Excelsior in Rome, she met a young officer, Gasparo del Corso, who shared her interest in Proust, art, and travelling. The couple married in 1937 and, in 1941, Irene joined her husband in Yugoslavia where he was involved as an officer on the Balkan front. Initially the couple was to stay there only six months. But as the war continued, so did their permanency. Irene now could see first-hand the brutal consequences of war and occupation. Instead of focusing on articles for the publication she worked for as planned, Irene was too overwhelmed by the abandoned villages, the arid fields, and so many people degraded by poverty to remain detached. She responded by writing about what she saw first-hand in this world torn up by conflict.

With her elegant, orderly, and direct style, Irene told the stories of people whose lives had been brutally disrupted, with the help of fascists, by the ego and arrogance of the Nazi regime. The result was a collection of vignettes, Olga a Belgrado, published in 1943. The book did not have much success because, as Irene tells us, “it was seized almost everywhere because the title and content seemed too favorable to the Yugoslav partisans”.

Totalitarian governments ban and seize books to restrict collective critical thinking. Because ignorance gives them power. And for this reason, when someone tries to restrict your thoughts, dump them. Because they just want to use you.

Related: Invasion of Yugoslavia +  THE MANY LIVES OF IRENE BRIN + Women’s Wardrobes, Men’s Wardrobes  by Irene Brin translated into English + Glamour, Art and Architecture Through Pasquale De Antonis’ Eyes + IT’S A ROMAN HOLIDAY FOR ARTISTS: THE AMERICAN ARTISTS OF L’OBELISCO AFTER WORLD WAR II +

Amarcord 15: Irene Brin, Un nuovo appuntamento con la rubrica di Incontri, Ricordi, Euforie, Melanconie di Giancarlo Politi + Breve biografia di Irene Brin e delle mille donne che fu +  Il Tempo e la Storia: Irene Brin: lo stile di una donna (RAI Play) +

A Brief History of Banned Books in America +

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Posted in Art Narratives, Beauty, People, Rome/Italy | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Ekphrastic: Lawrence & Jayne

The 1950s was a period of cultural evolution and modification. The Second World War had modified many beliefs related to the meaning of life. And for many, life became exceeding existential.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti (1919-2021), poet, publisher, and activist, was born in New York. His dad was an Italian and “wops” were not well liked in NYC at the time. The stress from being an immigrant caused his dad to have a heart attack just a short time before Lawrence was born. His mom, of Portuguese Jewish descent, was totally overwhelmed by the difficult situation she was in. She was susequently committed to a mental institution. The young Lawrence was shipped off to live with an aunt before being put into a foster home.

Your childhood follows you wherever you go and that of Lawrence was no different.

Struggling to find his place in the world, Ferlinghetti studied journalism at the University of North Carolina. He got his MA from Colombia having written his thesis on John Ruskin and J. W. Turner. Although he was intimate with words, he liked visuals, too.

In 1951, Ferlinghetti moved to San Francisco where he founded City Lights, an independent bookstore-publisher. Ferlinghetti now focused much of his energy on Beat Poets (although he is often categorized as a Beat poet, Ferlinghetti claimed with emphasis that he was not). In 1956, City Lights published Alan Ginsberg’s “Howl” provoking Ferlinghetti’s arrest for publishing obscene literature. Luckily, he was acquitted.

“Saturn devouring his son” byFrancisco Goya

Ekphrastic poetry was part of Ferlinghetti’s literary repertoire. One of his better known examples is “In Goya’s Greatest Scenes We Seem to See . . .”  In this poem, Ferlinghetti writes of the “suffering humanity” in Goya’s paintings and describes gory scenes with groaning babies, butchered cadavers, and hollering monsters. Terrible stuff, says Ferlinghetti. But you can easily compare the suffering you see in Goya’s paintings with the suffering of Americans on their interstate highways. The landscape may be different but the theme is the same—people still seem to be victims of a “senseless, predatory power.”

Cover of MERAKI; Meraki Opus Press 2019

Writer, artist, and designer Jayne Harnett-Hargrove publishes the quarterly “Meraki”, a seriously playful magazine exploding with visual poetry. Jayne and I have been Blog Buddies for some time so when I learned that she’d attended a performance of Ferlinghetti’s poetry reading, I asked if she would be willing to write her own ekphrastic response to Ferlinghetti’s reading:

“Onto Ekphrastic” by Jayne Harnett-Hargrove

Afterward, + for a long time, i wanted to publish something, ANYTHING, a chapbook,

broadside, or perhaps an omnibus while he was still top editor + curator at that SF City Lights

publishing house. Since he has past, not so much …

i don’t remember clearly, clearly my mind is a bit rough. But when Ferlinghetti took the stage, or

really, as he wedged himself in front of the stuffed-in crowd at the City Light Bookstore that

afternoon, i became spell-cast.

He introduced his book Seeing Pictures, a slim volume of ekphrastic poetry. Having introduced

the bait, we were all eager to bite. He was eloquent + humble in the reading. Amusing + candid.

A slight asemic art feel overtook me. The feeling of words blurring w/ optic meaning, + pictures

overlying words in time lapse – the way the i love lucy cursive was magically handwritten on the

tv show intro. i had always been a visual artist. i had never placed writing into a categoric queue.

Everyone i knew wrote; some much better than others. This turning a visual into words grew

provocative + engaging. If a picture is worth a thousand words what’s a word worth? Why nail

down an emotional feeling? Don’t words belie an essence? Isn’t visual a more universal +

immediate art? Can not the appointed picture convey what we feel to be true? i had a question

that needed answering. + the question kept changing.

i have always drawn quickly w/ a bit of an expressionism + i feel my best work is done fast,

never closing the lines. On the other hand i spend so-too much time organizing thoughts. i can

get them down quickly, but organizing words in such a way as to be understood becomes an

Atlasian struggle. There are rules, there exists a playbook, there are limits – perhaps the canon of

writing helps w/ the universality of understanding the intended.

Talking to me is much like playing charades, i know the word somewhere deep inside though i

don’t know the way to pull it out, nor do i often have the patience to do so. Too much hunting +

pecking for the right word, too much designing + crafting. Then the flash of relearning, every

time, somewhere in-process i can write as though i was painting. Make a sketch. Fill it in by

corralling words a section at a time, color it, push it toward an understandable meaning. Massage

it till it sings. As in visual art, by covering my mistakes w/ the next step the process becomes not

so difficult. Editing + spit polishing is deliberate. Actually i think that’s where the arts + letters

craft merge. No matter what process you use to write – in the end it becomes deliberate.

The quarterly experiment that is Meraki Issues came about in wanting to satisfy an urge to mix

the visual + the word. There is so very much work that does not have an out. The zine format

accommodates, keeps me on the rails + keeps me honest. Our minds crave stories + so can put

even the abstract sequential into meaning. Each issue is an attempt to create a themed work,

where i exhaust the possibilities in a n abbreviated way. i realize the outcome is tragically

truncated. But w/ this practice i raise other ideas that will be blown up + out in future work. Art

records the moment. + every moment has its own logic.

A friend has said, paintings are never finished they only stop in interesting places.

i can say the same for ekphrastic prose. Eloquently speaking in a thousand tongues. The intent is

to lay an image bare.

More Jayne:

MERAKI cover issue #7
MERAKI cover issue #12

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Except for Goya, all images courtesy of Jayne Harnett-Hargrove ©

Related:  Jayne’s Blog + Harnett-Hargrove site + Jayne is currently collaborating on the theatrical production “Impossible Things” + Jayne’s PATREON page +

Ekphrastic Copyists + Starry Starry Night +

Posted in Art Narratives, Books, female consciousness | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments