It Was A Marvelous Night

...for Moondancing Bunnies. An art box I made a couple of years ago with found discarded objects. The happy couple had been hopelessly waiting at the Salvation Army. I held on to this one by accident since it never sold...I think the bunnies wanted to stay and I'm glad they did. I keep them by a window where sometimes the light from the full moon shines in on them.

Father's Day

Cows Are In The Corn Again

A picture I took last year while eating my favorite food.

Yeats, Part II: Here Lies W.B...Or Is It Alfred?

"If I die here, bury me up there on the mountain, Roquebrune, and then after a year or so, after the newspapers have forgotten, plant me in Sligo."




Just before his death in 1939, William Butler Yeats' last wish to his wife, Georgie, was for his first burial to take place near Roquebrune, France, not far from where they were staying. He then wished for his remains to be quietly returned to Ireland for reburial at the base of the mountain, Ben Bulben, in Drumcliffe churchyard at County Sligo. Yeats' beloved Sligo is where he spent his early childhood days and began his love of Irish folklore that so greatly influenced his life and writing. His grandfather was once Rector of the Drumcliffe Church. Yeats expressed his burial wishes in the poem, Under Ben Bulben, writing his own epitaph in the last lines.

Yeats was buried at a discreet and private burial at Roquebrune after his death in a French hotel in 1939. Arrangements were finally made in 1948, nine years later, to move him to Sligo. The family wanted a quiet private ceremony, but the Irish government proudly insisted on a State funeral with honors. As often seems to occur when disturbing graves of famous folks, rumors have since circulated saying the remains which were moved were not actually those of Yeats, but belonged instead to another Irish fellow, Alfred Hollis, who died the same day. After Yeats was interred at Roquebrune, fighting broke out near the graveyard during the war, destroying all burial records and many graves. Yeats' last lover, Edith Shakleton, says that she visited her lover's French burial spot and was told that Yeats, along with many others, were moved to a pauper's graveyard during the fighting and all bones were later dug up and placed in a communal ossuary. The story goes that in 1948, when it came time for Yeats to make his journey to Ben Bulben, Hollis' body, which had never been disturbed, was substitued for Yeats' and placed in the chapel to avoid a scandal. Who knows if this story may be true, or only a ruse for Edith to have the "last hurrah." Yeats was a passionate man whose life was often controlled by the women who waltzed in and out of his heart, so he would not expect it all to end with his death.
I think the only answer we really need may have been given to us by Yeats himself before his death, when he wrote Under Ben Bulben and designated his own epitaph (gravestone below). He was a very mystically inclined man who believed in prophecy, visions, and automatic writing. He loved old Irish Folklore. The Horseman he refers to in the poem is probably from the Irish legend of the Death Coach (Coiste Bodhur), or possibly the headless Dullahan, both with the job of collecting souls for transport from earth. Many people say they are confused by the words on the gravestone, but the poem from which they came makes things clear. Yeats' poem, Under Ben Bulben, instructs the reader to not focus on the man, do not judge his life or death, but turn your eye to the joy, goodness and beauty he has left behind for others instead; the "art" any man can create. So it really matters not if the grave you stop to look at contains W.B. or Alfred, pass on by, horseman, there is no one's soul here to carry away, for through his art, a man's spirit will live forever in the minds of others.

The funeral car with the body, entering Drumcliffe churchyard in County Sligo.
"By the road, an ancient Cross"....from Under Ben Bulben

A large procession of walkers and bagpipers followed the journey of the funeral car.

Yeats' son, Michael, in the middle and Yeats' younger brother to the left join the walkers. I believe the woman on the far right is Yeats' daughter, Anne. I'm not sure who the woman is to Michael's immediate left...maybe wife, Georgie?

Somebody got his daddy's good looks...plus some.

The family around the grave at Sligo.

Beautiful Ben Bulben in County Sligo. The church and grave are at its base.

"Under bare Ben Bulben's head

In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid,

An ancestor was rector there

Long years ago; a church stands near..." from Under Ben Bulben

"Though grave-diggers' toil is long,

Sharp their spades, their muscle strong,

They but thrust their buried men

Back in the human mind again." ...from Under Ben Bulben

The Prince And The King

A few months ago, my friend, Anna, reminded me that I should write something on Brother Yeats. William Butler Yeats (1865-1939, pictured bottom left), who remains even now, seventy years after his passing, the undisputed King of 20th century poetry. This Irish gentleman has influenced countless artists and no one can imagine Irish literature without him. Robert Frost once wrote of him in a letter, describing his poems, saying "they make the sense of beauty ache." One could devote an entire blog to his life and his works, both are so full and interesting. His was a life obsessed with anticipation and discovery: omens, mysticism, love, fairies, folklore, beginnings, more love, and endings. After my friend's suggestion, I began reading and re-reading his works and could not find a stopping point, but with his birthday being yesterday, June 13, it should be an appropriate time to conjure his spirit a little.

What I must do first of all, is clarify some little known interesting information brought to the forefront by Anna's interest in what is probably Yeats' most well known and beautiful early poem, When You are Old. Several years ago, when discussing this poem in a crowded room with an English teaching friend with a mouth full of pancakes, I thought he said "I bet you didn't know that poem was really written for a man," and I relayed this information from the literary Sphinx's mouth to Anna. I didn't question this information or find it odd because I knew little about Yeats' personal life at the time. Well, after learning more about Yeats, this just didn't seem to fit, so more research was needed. Well it turns out that Yeats' poem is actually an 1893 "translation" of the famous French poet, Pierre de Ronsard's, Quand Vous Serez Bien Vieille (When You Are Very Old) poem from his 1587 Sonnets pour Helene. The well respected Pierre de Ronsard (1524-1585, pictured top right) was given the title, "Prince of Poets" by his French generation. Yeats translation is not an exact one and his version takes a more ethereal, spiritual tone, but there is no doubt that Ronsard's poem was Yeats' base. After discovering this information, it suddenly came to me what my literature teaching friend must have actually said..."I bet you didn't know that poem was really written by another man." Mystery solved, game of gossip over, and one area of Yeats' fascinating life becomes a little less complicated. Yeats' translation is beautiful and the poem definitely fits right into his life events, so his version does indeed belong to him. I can't help but also wonder, after discovering this tidbit, how Yeats would feel knowing this very early poem/translation would be the one most Americans identify with him.

I will hopefully write more on Yeats later. As I said, today is a good day to mention him and his art since yesterday was his birthday, and by the way, today just happens to be Anna's 19 year old son's birthday...a Warrior Poet whom I suspect could also "make the sense of beauty ache."

And thanks for the inspiration, Prince Ronsard. You may not be king, but you do have an asteroid named for you...10139 Ronsard, 1993.

South Carolina's Hogna

Proud to represent the state of South Carolina, Hogna carolinensis. Looking kinda cute... until I noticed the fangs.



South Carolina has been in the news lately regarding their snakes and weasels, but there is one animal that I bet a lot of people have no idea is a high ranking state official. We are the only state to have an officially appointed state spider, and he's a hog....or Hogna carolinensis, the largest of the Wolf spiders. His common name is the Carolina Wolf spider. This is no minor arachnid and in fact he can be so big that when you see one you may for a shocking instant suspect he may compete in size with the petite state bird, the Carolina Wren. Wolf spiders are not shy and they get their name because most of the species use their excellent eyesight to hunt down their prey, like a wolf, rather than laying politely in wait on a web.
In addition to their size, they have another asset that can provide you with some entertainment if you are inclined to patience and summer nights. Wolf spiders are most active at night when they do their hunting. This species has eight eyes and the pair of large eyes in the middle are quite reflective if they catch a light source at night. Summer nights would be nice time to have a Wolf watch. A lawn chair and a Petzl light on your head would be all you need. As the spider's
The wolf spider showing off 6 of his eight eyes. You can barely see the pair on top of his head. The red reflective pair is in the middle.


eyes glow an erie bright red when they catch the light, they look like little ghosts eyes peering back from the edge of the woods. I have a weakness for anything that glows in the night, so even though I can do without a viewing of the state spider in full daylight, I find them to be nice entertainment on a summer evening.

Hi-tech simulation of a Wolfie Watch.

I Had A Dream Last Night That Someone Was Singing Happy Birthday To Me...

Thank you very, very much.

Wahines!

Dan and his young Wahine daughter, Hannah, compete in the tandem competition of the Wahine Classic Competition at Folly Beach, SC. Photo by Grace Beahm.



Sunday brought the annual Wahine Classic at the surf loving, Bert's eggroll eating, Bohemian Folly Beach, SC. I have always loved the Maori and Hawaiian word for woman, Wahine. I remember as a child having a friend and we called each other Wahines for a while, enjoying the power and wild freedom we felt the title somehow gave us.

Don't Be Frightened...It's The Friendly Omnichord

A vintage Omnichord in all its ultra beige glory.


At a James Taylor concert I attended about 20 years ago, there was a quiet moment between songs. He leaned over to a big case and pulled out a glimmering accordion that briefly blinded us in the bright lights and then you could have heard a pin drop. He grinned and very calmly said, "don't be frightened". Well, I have a new friend that evokes the same response in those who aren't familiar with its fun and beauty... the ultimate Kitsch factor instrument, the Omnichord. In spite of it's frightening autoharp demeanor it is beautiful to listen to if played by a master. It is, in fact, more popular than most people suspect and featured on some good music...you just didn't know that was what you were listening to.
This beauty was introduced in 1981 by the Suzuki Cooperation as sort of an electronic substitute for the autoharp. It is a player friendly combo of press cord buttons and a swipe touch plate (sometimes called the sonic stings) and comes with preset rhythms. The color was intended to be gray but an order mistake at the factory resulted in a very industrial tone which is referred to by Omniphiles as "ultra beige". The shape is supposed to mimic the wing of the Greek God, Hermes. Well, take to the wing, Omnichord...you are my new favorite thing.

Yim Yames of My Morning Jacket playing the Omni. Listen to the MMJ song, Touch Me I'm Going to Scream, Part 2, to hear the beautiful Omnichord in action. You will not laugh.

"Step away from the Omnichord" ...David Bowie

Jermaine Clement playing the Omnichord. By the way, it is reported that he owns the largest collection of Omnichords in the world.

Month of Juno

The Peacock Complaining to Juno by Gustave Moreau 1881.

The story goes that the month of June got its name from the Roman Goddess, Juno. She has a reputation as the Goddess whose job includes the well-being of women, the director of marriage (hence the large number of June brides), and overseer of births. Her job title may imply that she was a nice, loving, fairy-godmother type, but not so. Instead, she was a murdering warrior who was insanely jealous of her brother/husband, Jupiter, with whom she enjoyed the un-ladylike sport of throwing lightning bolts.

The above artwork of Juno is by the Symbolist French painter, Gustave Moreau (1826-1898), who loved to use mythological figures as subjects. Notice the peacock, Juno's symbolic animal, which you will find in almost all paintings of her. The other small bird to the right is a nightingale. The myth that this painting was based on tells us that Juno's favorite bird was the peacock but when she met him he had no beautiful tail feathers. The homely Peacock came to Juno to complain that he wanted a singing voice like the nightingale rather than his own alarming shriek. According to the story, Juno appeased her bird friend by granting him beautiful tail feathers rather than a beautiful voice. The large brown eagle to the left may represent Juno's husband, Jupiter, or he may be floating around because in some versions of the fable, the saucy peacock also complains because he is not able to fly like the eagle. This would explain the artwork's title, since the peacock has his beautiful feathers but is still complaining. You just can't make some birds happy.

The following is the Greek Juno (aka Hera in Greek mythology)/peacock myth which is more akin to Juno's personality. Juno was insanely jealous of her husband's affairs and would often torment and murder the offspring of his infidelities. Jupiter was carrying on with the nymph, Io. Juno found out, so Jupiter transformed Io into a cow as a disguise. Being the wise cheating husband-catcher that she was, Juno asked her husband if she could have the cow and then appointed Argus, the one hundred eyed monster, to guard her new possession. Argus was well designed for guard duty because he could sleep with at least one eye open at all times. Jupiter was obliged to kill the cow so he hired Hermes to play sweet music to put all of the 100 watchful eyes of Argus to sleep, allowing the deed to be done. In her anger at Argus' failed responsibility, Juno took all of Argus' one hundred eyes and gave them in the form of feathers to her favorite bird, the peacock.

As a result of this bit of mythology, the planet Jupiter has a moon named Io (it looks like the lovers ended up together after all) and any watchful, alert person is referred to as an Argus. I had never thought of it before, but Juno being the goddess of childbirth may be the motivation for the main character's name in the movie, Juno.

A self portrait of Symbolist French painter, Gustave Moreau, done around 1850. One of Moreau's students was Matisse.

June