Sunday, November 2, 2014

Ophelia, controlling one's thoughts


Nice style. I like the shadows on the wall a lot. I have no idea why the characters have only one eye.

Ophelia makes one think of Shakespeare, of course. It makes me think of a painting that I own a copy of, La Jeune Martyre by Paul Delaroche painted 1855, a year before his death.

Delaroche's  painting depicts a 3rd century Christian martyr, not a Danish noblewoman. His Ophelia is murdered, Shakespeare's Ophelia kills herself. 

Three apartments ago I was not doing well at all health-wise and anticipating the worst I gave away all my books to whoever would have them. They were all good books too. No nonsense books at all. Later, when things turned around I took great pleasure in noticing my books on other peoples' bookshelves. Like seeing old friends spread all around.

I felt quite odd displaying my copy of Ophelia-like painting with its watery death subject when my own prospects appeared so poor. Surely my friends would imagine I am now fully death-oriented. They would assume a death-fixation on full display. I worried what my mother would think. As it turned out, nobody even mentioned the painting, as if it never even registered within their visual field. Or else they kindly ignored it. Who knows what they said when I wasn't around. The simple fact is I loved the painting, I found it fascinating, the way the promise of resurrection is depicted so oddly and gracefully. It got me.

There is a Greek Orthodox church a few blocks away at 55 W 2nd. I rang up the church and offered what remained of my books for their sidewalk sale saying due to my weakness I was unable to bring the books to them even though they are so near. They sent a priest to sort through them and take what he would. A straight up Greek Orthodox priest in full Eastern Orthodox garb, a tall black flat-top hat with black fabric hanging off the back, and the man with a full jet black beard, the whole bit. The priest is the single individual who even noticed the painting. It grabbed him the same way it did me. He sat there and stared at it for a good long while. We discussed the displaced halo as if her spirit is lifting through her face. I was delighted to see his fascination and I am certain he would have loved to take the print with him.


I'm tired of it now. I've pulled dozens of paintings out of storage. It needs to be switched out.

It's spooky. 

Completely inappropriate for my bedroom or the guest bedroom. Everything else is brightly lit and happy and filled with life then, thud, that dark thing. 

I want it gone. 


It is the bottom portion of a taller arch-shaped painting, The rest of it looks like this.

5 comments:

Eric the Fruit Bat said...

It seems unjust, somehow, that a cyclops would go to the optometrist and have to pay extra.

KCFleming said...

Beautiful painting, Chip.

I wonder what the evolutionary purpose of painting beautiful pictures is, if atheism is true?

Lem the artificially intelligent said...

The sympathy/empathy battle for supremacy.

ricpic said...

"I wonder what the evolutionary purpose of painting beautiful pictures is, if atheism is true?"

Beauty, the making of it by those who can and the contemplation of it by the rest, maintains the morale of the human race. Put another way, the absence of beauty results in demoralization. Since high morale is linked to robust health, or at least greater resistance to the assault on health, I would say the maintenance of health constitutes the evolutionary purpose of beautiful pictures.

But why? Why is beauty such a morale booster?

Truth is beauty, beauty truth.
--Keats

That's why. And the race needs truth.

The political expression of atheism, communism, crushes beauty. Oh, it left room in Russia for things like the Bolshoi, but beauty bearing on the present lie? Nyet!

ricpic said...

Oops. I got the Keats quote backwards:

Beauty is truth, truth beauty.