Our Banner in the Sky

The events of these past few weeks have been festering in my mind. Hurricanes, major forest fires, massive earthquakes — our planet seems to be groaning in the midst of moral and political turmoil, and the only thing I can think of is human life. Color means nothing, religious beliefs mean nothing, location is irrelevant; what matters most are lives. I don't pen this blog as a means by which to be preachy, or to wave an imaginary and morally-superior finger at you. I am writing this because when tragedy strikes, it's good to regain perspective and to remember the important things in our world, which have been clouded in recent months by too many other things far less important than being able to live and breathe. While acts of nature can be horrific and devastating, they are also opportunities to do what we humans do best: pull together.

A week ago, a friend of mine brought up something important that I hadn't thought of deeply enough. He said that it seems like, in this digital age with news streaming at us at light speed and at our fingertips all day long, we, as a society, have become numb to tragedy. It's as if we have access to an "emotion epidural", he called it, which many have injected into themselves in order to avoid having to comprehend the level of pain and devastation that has occurred. Hurricane Harvey hit Texas and the latest tally says at least 70 people have died from of it. I'll risk ridicule to step up and state I'm sure most in many other parts of the United States and the world just kind of thought of this as, well, eh, that's pretty awful, and then moved on. But then my friend asked, what if those 70 people died on your block? What if, among the 70 was — heaven forbid — a friend or family member? Suddenly, that 70 takes on a whole other meaning, and would likely scar you for life.

The 70 lives lost during Hurricane Harvey were each connected to many, many others. I dare even try to quantify the numbers, but I'm pretty sure we're in the thousands of other lives who are left heartbroken, questioning life and meaning, and will never be the same. That might not be you or me, but it's still fact. And the numbers of deaths don't stop there. Irma has since hit the Caribbean and is moving through Florida right this minute, there was an 8.1 magnitude earthquake just off the Mexican southwest coast, there are dozens of massive wild fires going on in California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and Montana; all of these current tragedies are leaving bodies in their wakes. The sad part is, for those lost, there is nothing else we can do. They're gone. But those who have had their lives upended and are fortunate enough to be alive, can certainly use help beyond a few social media posts saying "thoughts and prayers" are with them. Ultimately and in humanity, there is still hope.

Our Banner in the Sky, by Frederic Edwin Church (1826-1900), is an oil-on-paper painting symbolically showing the Union flag in the sky seemingly attached to a destroyed tree as the flagpole. Church painted this in 1861 and in response to the Confederate attack on Fort Sumter which started the Civil War.

Church was a patriot and someone who expressed his hope in painting. (Some of his other works are quite marvelous to behold so I recommend checking them out when you can.) Fort Sumter was constructed after the Revolutionary War to help protect the harbor in Charleston, South Carolina. The men who guarded it had no idea the Confederate Army would attack them, nor did they know they'd be caught up in the beginnings of a very bloody war that still resonates to this day.

I love this piece because of what it symbolizes. Even in the midst of a terrible civil war, Church was able to show hope through his work. It's one thing to be at war with another nation, but the complexities of and the emotional roller-coaster that takes place in the hearts and minds of those caught up in a civil war must be much, much worse. Church, however, saw through it all and clung to his belief that hope would prevail.

By no means am I trying to demean what's happening in our world today. My heart breaks for those who have lost loved ones, had their lives destroyed, and are suffering right now to pick up the pieces. The level of hopelessness must be overwhelming, and it's resonating inside me. But I also know that good is coming. Good is happening right now! Hope is very much alive as millions of dollars are being donated, others are risking their lives to help save people and animals in need, and truckloads of donated goods and supplies are making their way to the victims right this second. Why? Because others who have the means are seeing beyond the tragedy and doing what they can to help their fellow human-beings in need. It makes for an interesting two-fold expression of hope: that there is hope to begin with, and that the acts of caring, selfless people are hope in action.

Escaping Criticism

It's nice to be able to be who you are. To think freely, to feel freely; to form ideas and pursue goals how and when you choose. It's nice to not be fenced in; to be able to roam about life and this world as you so choose. And while this all may sound nice and fluffy but unrealistic, on some level it's both. All of us are born out of the union of a sperm and an egg. All of us develop inside a womb. What happens after is completely out of our control. Some find themselves in a whole family; others in a "progressive" family. Still others in a broken family or in no family at all. As childhood sets in, rules, discipline, guidance, or the lack there of along with circumstance and environment begin to shape who we become.

If you're one of the fortunate to live in a region where you have true freedom, and you were able to navigate your way out of childhood in one piece, you're now hopefully being exactly who you are. You're now going after exactly what you want in life. You're hopefully being you, and not what others might want you to be or going after the things they've forced upon you. Your steely-eyed determination leads you down paths in life you've either found or forged on your own. Your morally grounded heart is your compass, and your true passions in life are your fuel. Yes, you had some uncontrollable things happen when you were growing up that might have scarred or influenced you in some way, but those things aren't stopping your curiosity from being sated and your dreams becoming fulfilled.

Or are they? Too often, culture, society, what's "in", and many other influential messages and customs shape us. In a way, they put a frame around our lives. They limit our desires, dictate our reactions, and manipulate our emotions. Deception is all around us taking on many different forms. And what's worse, in recent years, that deception has become a force of its own. In past times, deception was an unspoken thing that sat off to the side in life like a forced boundary. People knew it was there sometimes referring to it as "the norm". Deep down, they were uneasy about how that norm limited them in some way, but since everyone else went along with it, they did too. Now, however, if you don't tow the same line as what others feel is "the norm", you get ridiculed, shamed, and even broken. You can no longer be different in the eyes of those who are different without paying some price. That's not freedom.

Escaping Criticism, by Pere Borrell del Caso (1835-1910), is an oil-on-canvas painting that was completed in 1874 in true trompe-l’oeil fashion. Trompe-l’oeil (literally meaning "deceive the eye") is an art technique that has been around for centuries where an artist attempts to create an optical illusion. In this case, a young boy in disheveled clothing braces to escape the very painting in which he was created. As he braces his foot and clutches the frame, his eyes are peeled wide and he gasps as he sees the "outside" world for the first time. Some historians believe that given del Caso's distaste for following what other experts in his field wanted to see in that day, this piece was his attempt to show them that their perspectives were robbing the world of its vitality.

The irony of Escaping Criticism is that the painting itself is deception. The story being told is that this painted boy no longer wants to remain inside the frame and is attempting to get out. The world, meanwhile, is being told by this painting to stop limiting and robbing others of their vitality. Round and round we may go, but it's still fascinating and does exactly what art is supposed to do: evoke a response. Thus, my initial pontification.

Back when we were all zygotes, our conditions for existence were exactly the same. Every single human being alive today came from the exact same beginnings as everyone else. We only ended up changing and becoming different as a result of where we existed outside the womb. If you undo all the layers of life and get to the root of life itself, you'll see we all share something very much in common. So why all the fuss now in bending ears in directions those ears may not want to go? Is it pride? Selfishness? Greed? I suppose that depends on the person. Either way, this painting is a wonderful example of living freely, breaking away from "the norm", and being who you really, truly are. You. Beautiful, unique, one-of-a-kind you. Just like everybody else.

Les Bourgeois de Calais

Arland had no idea on January 12, 1982, that he would make history and become a hero in less than 24 hours. Little is known about why Arland was where he was on January 13, just that he was a federal bank examiner and likely traveling for business.

The weather in Washington, D.C. that next day was freakishly bad. Snow, ice, and high winds plagued the region and plunged the city into an arctic state. Over 6 feet of snow had accumulated leading to the Washington National Airport to shut down. Prior to cancelling flights and despite repeated warnings, though, the pilot of Air Florida Flight 90 refused to abandon their scheduled trip. As Arland, 73 other passengers, and 5 crew boarded the plane, what would happen next left the world in shock.

As the plane taxied to the runway for take-off, human error was already in play and doom had set in. First, they gave a blind eye to the clearly visible snow building up on the wings as well as the runway and surrounding area. Second, the pilots failed to activate the aircraft's ice protection system while they chose to ignore other on-board warnings that the plane would not make it. Third, it didn't help that the taxi alone took 49 minutes thus exacerbating conditions, and that was after the towing vehicle couldn't even find traction to get the plan going in the first place. What was apparent, however, was that the captain was determined to get the aircraft in the air no matter what.

Upon take-off, the plane struggled to gain altitude, and immediately fell and struck the 14th Street Bridge less than a mile off the end of the runway hitting 7 vehicles, and killing 4 people. The plane then plunged into the Potomac River which was blanketed by jagged ice. When it hit the ice and water, the plane split in two and as the front section of the fuselage sank, the tail section stayed afloat in the water.

This is where things take a turn for the worse, but the better. Of the 79 people on board, 6 survived and they were badly injured. As they scrambled to the tail section to cling on for dear life and seek assistance, not one of them knew it would take so long due to the weather conditions. After 20 minutes of failed attempts to reach the survivors by land, boat, and even dog-paddling, a helicopter from the U.S. Park Police was dispatched to man a rescue. The perilous mission would prove there was and is good reason to have faith in humanity.

When the chopper arrived, a rescue rope was tossed down to Arland, one of the 6 survivors. Despite his injuries and weather conditions, Arland was surprisingly alert. Seeing that the other 5 people were in worst condition than him, he passed the rope to the person next to him. One by one, Arland continued to pass the rope so 3 of the other 5 could be safely hauled to land. That's when the pilots noticed one of the survivors had drifted away from the wreckage and was flailing in the freezing water, stuck on a chunk of ice. She was very quickly dying, and it was all captured on live TV. With two other rescuers who dove into the frigid waters, they were able to save her. The helicopter crew then turned their attention back to the wreckage to pick up the two remaining people. Arland and another woman were now separated by conditions so they lowered the skids into the water to haul the remaining female on board who was too weak to grab onto the rope. When they finally returned for Arland, he was no where to be found. They spent over 30 minutes searching for him before they were called away. Days later, it would be discovered that the wreckage had shifting sucking Arland down underwater causing him to drown.

Les Bourgeois de Calais, by Auguste Rodin (1840 - 1917), is a bronze statue depicting 6 burghers (politically connected and influential citizens) volunteering their lives to King Edward III to parley surrender on behalf of the city of Calais, France, in 1347. The piece was commissioned by the city in 1884, and it was completed in 1889. At the time, they wished to commemorate the lives of those who willingly gave themselves up at the command of King Edward III, and for the survival of the people of Calais who were embroiled in the Hundred Years' War.

Rodin is best known for his piece, The Thinker, but in all of art history, Les Bourgeois de Calais is known to be one of the most historically famous sculptures ever created. During that period in time, France was losing the battle against England, and as the city of Calais struggled to hold their lines and defense of the city and castle, they fell into starvation. This was when Edward offered to spare the people of Calais if 6 of its top leaders would give themselves up, wear nooses around their necks, and give him the keys to the city and castle. The first of the volunteers was a wealthy town leader named Eustache de Saint Pierre, and he is seen in the piece leading the group to the city gates to be turned over to the crown. It wasn't until Philippa of Hainault, the wife of King Edward III, stepped in and persuaded her husband to show mercy for the sake of the unborn child, Thomas of Windsor (who, ironically, died 1 year after birth).

I picked the Arland Williams story to highlight the significance of this piece because of the incredible amount of compassion and sacrifice he showed in order that others might live. Had he grabbed the rope and held on, who knows? Perhaps the woman seen struggling in the ice would have died instead. Much like Arland and all of the life he still had ahead him, Saint Pierre and the others were also willing to give it all up for strangers. It's even more astonishing to comprehend when you think about the life Eustache must have had. He was rich, influential, and according to painting of him by artist Jean-Simon Berthélemy, he was handsome, powerful, and well-liked.

Stories of heroism are, nowadays, a dime-a-dozen. Yet, with each, I find myself blown away by the sheer level of compassion and self-sacrifice for the good of others - often strangers. From Medal of Honor recipients to men like Arland and Saint Pierre, I'm reminded of the inherent good in humanity that the world and media would otherwise have you believe didn't exist. Let's none of us forget that, and let's also never forget those who sacrificed their own lives in order that others may live.

The Last Supper

One of the most legendary works of art in all of history is The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci. My original intention in writing about it was to forego an analogous approach because of how profound it remains to this day. Far be it for me to attempt to extrapolate some other message than what was originally intended by its creator due to the significance of that moment in time. Therefore, I thought a run through this work's history of abuse and destruction might be an interesting approach, and a bit different than how I've written about art in the past. I mean, it was nearly bombed to oblivion during World War II - that has to be pretty notable, right?

Then it dawned on me: comparing this piece's abuse via metaphor to anything else would do it a disservice and be an atrocity. Why? Because I don't believe it was painted to evoke emotion, but to capture a moment in history that tells a story while revealing a lot of symbolism. And not just symbolism inside the work, but also through its very existence. Instead, I'd like to dive into that symbolism because I think it's important and often overlooked.

Contrast was slightly increased in order to show greater detail.

Let me first note that two copies of The Last Supper were painstakingly created by da Vinci's assistants in order to preserve the details. As you can see from the image above, the original piece has deteriorated quite significantly over time thanks in part to a door being installed at the location which destroyed the lower-middle portion. Also note that this piece was done by da Vinci in tempera on gesso, pitch, and mastic (that is to say, egg-based painting medium on chalk, coal-based resin, and plant resin—more on this later).

Famous nowadays for how often it's been parodied, the original work was completed in the late 15th Century inside the Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie in Milan, Italy. Depicted is Jesus with His twelve disciples on either side of Him. From left to right—according to notes taken by da Vinci himself—we see Bartholomew, James, the half-brother of Jesus, Andrew, Judas Iscariot, Peter, John, Jesus, Thomas, James, Philip, Matthew, Jude, and finally Simon. The moment being capture is the immediate reaction of the disciples after Jesus, in the Gospel of John chapter 13, verse 21, proclaimed, "Very truly I tell you, one of you is going to betray me."

Now then, the most poignant use of symbolism is that of the Holy Trinity. There are three doors on either side of the room, three windows in the back, the disciples are clearly clumped into groups of three, Jesus' form is that of a triangle, the legs of the table are triangles, and on Jesus' sandals are three lines in the shape of a triangles. Obviously, the number 3 and triangles represent the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The next symbol is Peter angrily standing and holding a knife pointed away from Jesus. Some experts believe this expressed what was to later occur in the Garden of Gethsemane when Peter chopped off the ear of a servant of the high priest who was attempting to arrest Jesus. This then leads to how the other disciples are reacting, as well. Bartholomew, James, and Andrew all seem shocked; John appears flush white and tilts to one side implying he may be faint; Thomas, James the Greater, and Philip appear upset and in search of more reason; lastly, Matthew, Jude, and Simon are turned towards each other in bewilderment.

Next, we have Judas Iscariot. Anyone who knows their history and/or the Bible knows that Judas was the one who betrayed Jesus for a bag of silver, which would have been worth about $200 U.S. dollars today. Some believe the bag he holds in his right hand indicates his position as the treasurer of the disciples, but I believe it symbolizes his forthcoming betrayal. I say this because he is also depicted as reaching for a loaf a bread in direct contrast to Jesus gesturing to a similar loaf in reference to Him being the Bread of Life. A small detail often missed is Judas' right arm knocking over a jar of salt. In those days, the phrase "betray the salt" was commonplace and used to express betraying one's master. Lastly, Judas is the only one obscured by shadow, leaning with his elbow on the table, and with his face turned far enough to make it difficult to see him.

Then there's Jesus. His eyes are clearly gazing downward and most will say at the loaf of bread in front of Him. I say His eyes are on His hand which would be pierced upon crucifixion. His right hand, however, is reaching for a cup and is likely a direct reference to the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 20, verses 20-23: "Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons and, kneeling down, asked a favor of him. 'What is it you want?' he asked. She said, 'Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.' 'You don’t know what you are asking,' Jesus said to them. 'Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?' 'We can,' they answered. Jesus said to them, 'You will indeed drink from my cup, but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared by my Father.'"

The final example of symbolism is purely speculative on my part. For you see, the materials used to paint this scene were woefully unreliable. Artists in the 14th and 15th Century all had much more reliable materials with which to create works of art that would last a lifetime. Given Leonardo's inarguable genius, I believe he purposefully painted this scene as he did with the full intention of it eroding over time. Why would da Vinci do this, though? I have no clue, but given his reputation for having a feverishly inventive imagination, I suppose it was to send a message. Perhaps this was the first notable use of ancient trolling by having such a powerful work of art vanish over time in order to draw attention to how much people placed value on material things. I guess you can say that I like to think of da Vinci having existed on a much higher existential plain.

I'm sure there are a lot more examples in this piece. My first thought was the varying expressions of the disciples and my guess is that they're based on each one's personality; Peter being the most obvious thanks to his reputation for popping off at the mouth so much. If you see more, I'd be curious to know! Please feel free to share it in a comment below.

Apparatus and Hand

When I was a child, I used to have a vivid recurring dream. I grew up in a nice home in Redlands, California, which was on the corner Franklin Ave. and Garden St.. We had a half-circle driveway which entered and exited on the two different streets. Across Franklin was an orange grove where we, as kids, would run around and play pretend. It was the middle-America life for us back then, even though we were on the West Coast.

This dream happened a few times when I was very young, if I recall correctly. It would begin with me standing in the front yard of our house, and I would hear pounding footsteps. (I would later discover the footsteps were from me hearing my own heartbeat as I slept.) My chest would compound and fear would rise as I would turn to gaze up Franklin Ave. I somehow knew something was coming from that direction and so its pace quickened. Sure enough, cresting the hill and streaming down the street was a creature about 4 feet tall. The best way for me to describe this creature would be to say it looked like a small Snuffleupagus draped in a white bed sheet, and covered with old, antique plastic play telephones. Dozens of telephones. This thing would zoom to the front of our house, and for some strange reason, I'd get on its back and go for a ride around the corner. That's pretty much when the nightmarish feelings would awaken me.

I can't say what spawned this dream so many times. Even now, some 40 or so years later, I can still picture it, but am at a loss as to why I had it. The only odd revelation was that it seemed to be directly linked to my heartbeat. And as enigmatic as it was, I now find myself wanting to examine it's meaning. Bear with me as this is completely spontaneous and purposefully not thought out.

My suspicion is that this dream was manifest from a combination of deep seeded desires. A) I loved adventure as a kid and getting on something as strange as the telephone monster seems fitting. Bear in mind, this was during a time when mothers and school teachers would iterate how important it was not to get into (or onto, in this case) a strange vehicle. B) My mother used to tell friends that when I was about 3 years old, I'd point to the TV screen as we watched I Love Lucy and say that that was what I wanted to do when I grew up. So, perhaps my desire for immediate and constant attention is represented by the phones covering the telephone monster's body.

Enter Apparatus and Hand . . .

Apparatus and Hand, by Salvador Dalí, is a pre-Surrealism painting which was completed in 1927. It's oil on panel, and it was Dalí's first work after returning from military service when he was 23 years old. According to experts, it was during this period that Freud's publications about psychopathology and dream interpretation were popular with Dalí, and so this piece was inspired by Freud's writings. Seemingly, the "apparatus" figure is representative of Dalí, while the grotesque hand is representative of his mind. Around him are visions of what truly beleaguers his thoughts, and thus implies what influences him to some degree.

This artwork was one of the first paintings to strike me when I was much younger and in college. At the time, I was busy being an actor when I wasn't bogged down by being a student. Art in this form wasn't really a passion for me then, but I suspect this piece is what triggered it for me. Since then, I've spent quite a lot of time studying the details, contemplating their meaning, and almost finding something unseen in previous viewings each time I looked at it. I knew the history of this piece was available online, but I never really wanted to know about it. Art, for me, is something I allow to speak to me as is and without context. If I don't know the historical context, then I don't want to know it because I'd rather art have its own uninfluenced voice. (You can see this effect quite well in my previous post, L'Ange du Foyer.)

I strategically used the term "enigmatic" above because that's what this painting has been for me for a very long time. It wasn't until about a month ago that I discussed it with a co-worker. You see, I had received a very heart-warming comment in my L'Ange du Foyer post which started the conversation. When we dove into picking this piece apart and analyzed its details, we both came pretty close to what experts have since determined with regard to its meaning. Yet, for over 20 years, it's been an enigma and a source of incredible imagination. Apparatus and Hand has been a very slow metronome where each beat reminded me to stop thinking about the here and now, to stop thinking about tomorrow and the next day, and to take a moment to contemplate the surreal. To stop and let my imagination run around and have some fun.

And so, I've returned to writing. Not just because this piece has been an intimate part of my life for two decades, but also because of that comment. If what I type here can make someone see their life in a new, encouraging light, then why should I deprive them of that? I have a gift, and so I've chosen to continue to use it.

Niccolò Paganini

About 100 years ago, George was born the lone child of a father and mother who are long gone. As a youngster, George lived out his life in a pretty desolate place known as Pinta. Each day, he'd wake and slowly make his way around the rocky terrain in search of sustenance. Each night, he would bed down alone inside his small abode and dream of what could be.

Several years had gone by when George was awakened one day by the unfamiliar sounds of new neighbors. Boorish and abrasive, the new family to take up residency was clearly not what George was accustomed to. For him, each day was filled with friendly, sparse encounters with the few others that lived in the same area each living their lives in harmony, in unison, and without interruption. But the new family to take up a home in George's otherwise quiet world were less-than welcome. Sadly, over time the small brood had increased in kinship making George's small but spread out place of living far too uncomfortable and overcrowded. In fact, things got so bad and due to George's elderly age, he had to be assisted in finding a new home where he could continue to live peacefully with all the necessities.

George took on quite a bit of fame in the 1970s thanks to his unique life and story and after being discovered by a foreign scientist doing local research. His solitary upbringing, ability to survive on his own for nearly his entire life, and learning that he was the last of his family's lineage, George was greeted by many well-doers. Each person seemed genuine and sought ways to make what was left of his existence as enjoyable as possible all the while exploiting the ramifications of who he was so others could feel compelled to get involved. George and others like him should never be forgotten in such a large world filled with those who had or have a similar background. And while efforts to introduce George to a mate so his family name could live on have failed, there is still a glimmer of hope it is not too late.

Niccolò Paganini by Jean-Pierre Dantan is the plaster sculpture of an Italian violin virtuoso by the same name. Using his incredibly unique and expressive style, Dantan has created one of the hallmarks of his very bright and idyllic career. Not far from the reality of who Paganini was and how he played, the piece displays a man paying extremely close attention to his craft.

Externally, we're presented with a piece that shows a man with his hips askew and arms awkwardly pulled in as he seemingly reaches the crescendo of his music. Internally, we're able to notice not just a man playing an instrument but a man wholly focused on something that is truly a passion. Dantan's use of simple materials void of color show that the work itself is not meant to be expressive but the motion, the moment, and the emotions evoked. Purposefully, the piece was masterfully created in order to ensure who Paganini was as an violinist and how Paganini sacrificed his entire life for his work are intricately represented.

In real life, Paganini was not much unlike our friend, George. He lived a life of pure focus upon the one thing he felt gave him purpose while garnering his fair share of fame. Ultimately, though, Paganini passed away leaving very little to speak of behind. And like George, Paganini forged through his existence as someone who should have been much more well known and successful but apparently destined for nothing more than having controversy surround his legacy.

Who is George, you might be wondering? He's the last known species of tortoise that are indigenous to Pinta Island in the Galápagos. At approximately 100 years old, no other living species of George's kind have been found and hopes to avert extinction have been fruitless. In kind, how does George relate to Paganini? As one of the most beloved and vivid violinists of his time and at the height of his fame, Paganini reached the end of his life with no money, alone, and his idiomatic talent all but forgotten. On a symbolic road of destiny that could not be manipulated or influenced, both George and Paganini trudged through their lives focused not on what made them each special, but on what each most desired.

When the day comes that George passes away, the lack of similarities between a tortoise and a man will eventually fade. Though I suppose it has already begun considering the predicated comparison I've just shared. All boasting aside, however, the one thing that cannot be argued is the reality of some individuals who seem destined for a life of solitude. Completely engrossed in their dreams and passions, these folks endure years of loneliness despite having direct and sometimes infamous connections with others. Rightfully expressed in a song entitled, Misread Lyrics by Kings of Convenience, "All throughout history the loneliest people were the ones who always spoke the truth; the ones who made a difference by withstanding the indifference." The unfortunately truth is that indifference will be everlasting.