I leave my shoes behind, to feel the sand. It could be Redcliffe, or Sandgate Or Bribie Island. But it’s not. We spend the next hour looking for shells, While the dog runs madly in circles. The beach is empty. Apart from the gulls And a jelly fish. A young girl walks by, eating a sausage on a stick. A couple of teenagers Sit on a bench holding hands. But the beach is empty. These are not my memories. I’m stepping on someone else’s sand.
I can remember when the Berlin wall came down; watching from the other side of the world I stared at the box in amazement. It felt exciting, as though I was witnessing a significant moment in history. Yet over 25 years later, walls are going up rather than coming down. Walls to keep people out this time, rather than to keep people in. But there is a similar purpose - to divide and separate. So as I walk along this wall - a significant piece of history - I can't help but think that walls aren't really one of man's greatest achievements. Rather they're used to keep people out, or stop people from leaving, a means to charge taxes, a way to declare ownership. The sight of stones and mortar, cutting across the landscape, sends out a message - alas never welcoming.
A Stoneware Vase of Flowers, by Jan Brueghel the Elder c. 1607 - 1608.
For the Dutch, flowers are a staple of life - like bread and cheese. Every market has a multitude of flower sellers, their stalls bursting with colour. Flowers aren't a rare treat for a special occasion but something to collect when you're doing the weekly shop. Or to bring to a friend's home when you drop by....
So I was discussing this painting this week with friends - someone raised the interesting question of how exactly it was painted. It contains flowers from all the seasons, so Jan (Bruegel's son) either painted from memory or over an extended duration, as the flowers came and went. Today we have greenhouses and fly in flowers from all over the world - so gathering together flowers from different seasons wouldn't be a problem - but in the 1600s....
This painting shouldn't work - or so the logical part of my brain tells me - the tulip stems are much to long, and let's face it, there's no way such a small vase would stay upright with this volume of flowers. But it does work. The ultimate bouquet.
I prefer the Dutch name for this painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder - 'Het Luilekkerland' or
translated the lazy luscious land - lui meaning lazy and lekker meaning delicious. Seems to convey much more than the
English name of 'Land of Cockaigne'. Although in medieval times
Cockaigne was the mythical land of plenty, so it is indeed apt.
This painting typifies, for me at least, what is intriguing about Bruegel - for example, how he uses humour to raise strong moral questions.
The
arrogance of humankind - an egg comes ready with a spoon, a pig is roasted and even provides the knife to eat him with, seemingly it's sole
purpose of existence. The fowl places her neck upon the plate.
A
knight sits under a roof covered in pies. He has his mouth open,
waiting for a roasted pigeon to fly in (apparently removed by accident
during restoration work).
Behind
the three men (a clerk, peasant and soldier) all lost to their gluttony and laziness, is a fence made of
sausages. To the right is what looks like a cactus plant, but is it made
of pancakes?
How relevant Bruegel's message remains today as mankind continues to abuse it's precious home with such little regard, no concern for the future. We continue to talk and talk over climate change but talk is not commitment; debate the so called benefits of fracking (banned in other countries but under consideration in the UK); a growing culture to consume and discard.
I usually have quite clear thoughts on whether I've enjoyed a book - or not, especially once I've finished it and had time to reflect, but this one was something else. I eventually responded... yes... yes I think I did.... it was thought provoking. Thought provoking is good, I'm told.
What do you think it's about? Someone else asked. Oh my, how was I going to answer this one.
After a time I replied: I think it's about journeys. There is the physical journey of a father and son on a motor cycle trip across America, but also their journey together. Those difficult moments as he tries to mend their fraught relationship, an often fruitless attempt to bond. Another journey is his struggle with mental illness and his 'alter ego' Phaedrus, while his son seems to be struggling with depression. His journey to seek out answers. It wasn't an easy book to read, yet I didn't want to put it down although somehow I knew this author wasn't going to give me any answers by the end.
At a pivot point in the story, Pirsig is stopped at a junction, he is in his car with his 6 year old son. He doesn't know which way to turn, confused he asks his son to guide him home. I wonder, is this the moment where he goes insane, or has he found enlightenment? Perhaps both. And what of the impact of this moment upon the son?
Long after I put the book back on the shelf it has stayed with me. Pirsig left behind many ideas I'm mulling over: thoughts on the metaphysics of quality, teaching and learning, technology... my goodness, even motorcycle maintenance. "Traditional scientific method has always been, at the very best, 20-20 hindsight. It's good for seeing where you've been. It's good for testing the truth of what you think you know, but it can't tell you where you ought to go." Pirsig, from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
(These images are from the following site: Pirsig images )
First a friend's wedding - such a happy moment, a reminder of just how powerful love can be. How it unites, brings contentment, knocks down barriers and makes the impossible possible. Rather poignant in today's world which all too often seems driven by anger, hatred and division.
And then spending time staring into Bruegel painting, The Peasants Wedding. Has much changed?
People still celebrate marriage by drinking, eating and dancing, such as they did 500 years ago. But the bride in this painting (sitting before the green drape and under a paper crown), she doesn't look like she's having much fun. Or perhaps I'm being too harsh on her; maybe it's the importance of the day and she's just being well behaved.
from Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna
Have been pondering Julian Barnes book, Levels of Life. A story of grief and sorrow, which is actually a celebration of love. Quite profound and another reminder of the power of love.
In the 16th century the painter, Pieter Bruegel the elder, set about depicting a number of sayings within his works. But he was rather clever about it all, giving his observers something to ponder over, even almost 500 years later.
The image here is from Bruegel's painting "A Topsy Turvy World" (you might know it as The Nederlandse Proverbs). Is she a loving wife, her arms lovingly embracing her man? Or does her red dress, low decollage, and uncovered hair suggest she might be up to something when her husband isn't looking? While her beloved wears a blue cloak.... You decide.
