snow, shovel, snowshoe + lots of gazing
February 26th, 2009 — 1:44pm
Archive for February 2009
02.20.09 :: yellow week, day five
February 20th, 2009 — 9:56am
As I headed to my car after work last night, I noticed some yellow underfoot, and beneath layers of snow, slush, sand, and salt. Not the cheeriest of yellows, and certainly faded and cracked, but still visible and performing its function (in this case to ward off cars from parking within its yellow bounds).
Later on I was up at the studio for a little while and perused the various books and binders filling my shelves and decided to flip through two binders I have had a long time — I think since junior high or thereabouts. In these binders I had carefully clipped, collected, and sorted hundreds of pages and pieces torn from magazines. I remember the thrill I used to feel, holed away in my bedroom, flipping through hoarded magazines, ripping and cutting with pieces of glossy paper covering the floor. I kept the sundry bits in clear sheet protectors and the categories were roughly this: quotations/words, animals, flowers, the outdoors/landscapes, home interiors, interesting advertisements (always more intriguing when pronounced as the British do, adVERtisement), pop culture, and, of course, miscellaneous. I was surprised to find that my taste has largely remained the same, and has shifted in only subtle ways. Recognizing the sources for various bits was easier than I suspected and I thought back and appreciated the stacks of British Country Living magazines that an old boss bestowed upon me.
In truth, I probably should have become a graphic designer. In high school I would spend hours in my room poring over these magazines, selecting and appreciating interesting design. I still have a whole folder of full-page Clinique advertisements and I was not the least bit interested in makeup. Instead I was fascinated by the simple but striking designs they employed in ad after ad. I might have to dig up that file and post a few in the future.
Anyhow, I spent a few minutes digging through those binders yesterday and gathered together a smattering of yellow. Here is what I assembled:
Enjoy the bounty of yellow and a relaxing weekend.
02.18.09 :: yellow week, day three
February 18th, 2009 — 8:44am
my mid-afternoon Sunday snack was nearly perfect…
02.17.09 :: yellow week, day two
February 17th, 2009 — 8:52am
The yellow glow from the lamp inside this house looked so warm and inviting as I walked by at twilight.
02.16.09 :: yellow week, day one
February 16th, 2009 — 11:11am
house on hill road suggested a yellow week, and so I am playing along and posting the bits of yellow I encounter…pops of color to remind me that spring will come. And an opportunity to notice how such bright colors stand out against the snow-covered landscape.
02.10.09 :: melancholy
February 10th, 2009 — 2:24pm
Word of the week: melancholy
1mel·an·choly
Pronunciation: \ˈme-lən-ˌkä-lē\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural mel·an·chol·ies
Etymology: Middle English malencolie, from Anglo-French, from Late Latin melancholia, from Greek, from melan- + cholē bile
Date: 14th century
1 a: an abnormal state attributed to an excess of black bile and characterized by irascibility or depression b: black bile c: melancholia
2 a: depression of spirits : dejection b: a pensive mood
I daresay that sometimes in deep winter, melancholy can strike. I have been rather melancholic as of late and am doing my best to embrace it. I enjoy reading what Tom Hodgkinson says about melancholy in The Freedom Manifesto (go here for an earlier post on this book). Chapter 17, “In praise of melancholy,” explains:
For guidance on the vexing issue of melancholy, depression, black bile, we must turn to the world expert, renowned scholarly reflector and gentle intellect Robert Burton who, in 1621, wrote that most cheerful and cheering of books, The Anatomy Of Melancholy.
That the book was a big hit should come as no surprise, because it came out during a miserable period in history. Merry England was dead or dying. Burton’s book, 78 pages of the most delightful misery, was published roughly halfway between the Henrician Reformation and the Industrial Revolution, those two major disasters for lovers of life and liberty. The old religious festivals had been banned by Cranmer. Merry-making on Sundays was attacked. The fun was being drained from national life. The book is also almost contemporary with Shakespeare’s study of isolation, Hamlet, and Marlowe’s study of ambition, Dr Faustus.
The meat of Burton’s book is thousands of quotations on the subject of melancholy from classical sources. This would suggest that the Ancient Romans and Greeks suffered from melancholy, too, which doesn’t surprise me, because the Romans, particularly, lived in a rapacious, warlike, exploitative oligarchy, much like Britain and the US today. It may also be true that, aside from external factors, melancholy is just a fact of life. There is no escape. Even the wise, lucky and prosperous, Burton says, suffer from melancholy: deal with it.
Among the causes of melancholy, Burton lists bad diet. Among his solutions is merriment: “In my judgment none so present, none so powerful, none so apposite as a cup of strong drink, mirth, music, and merry company.” He calls music “a roaring-meg against melancholy, to rear and revive the languishing soul”. This is the power of jazz, or rock’n'roll, or dance music.
Today, gone are good company, good cheer and good beer as cures. Melancholy has been professionalised, commodified, industrialised. It has been transformed into a “condition” with a costly chemical cure. These pills make the most gigantic profits for their dealers, the drugs giants. Depression is big business.
No one ever suggests, of course, that the fault for your depression may lie not with you but with the things that you are expected to do in our hyper-competitive, meritocratic, money-based, godless society. However, rather than change yourself, you could change your world. Quitting your job, refusing to vote, not taking pharmaceutical drugs: these are acts not of apathy but of a radical re-engagement with society and with your own self. Once you disengage from the structures that bind you, you find that you begin to recreate a life of self-reliance. And self-reliance, rather than the sticking-plaster method, will help you to come to terms with your melancholy, rather than trying to banish it with drugs.
I think that even simply renaming depression “melancholy” can do a lot to disarm it. Keats, in his Ode On Melancholy, advises not getting wasted (which he calls Lethe) and not taking anti-depressants (which he calls wolfsbane and nightshade). Instead, he suggests going for a walk and gazing at the flowers and recognising that melancholy is a sister to joy and must be embraced.
Amen. Hmmm…bad diet? And music as “a roaring-meg against melancholy, to rear and revive the languishing soul”? Indeed. This is precisely why J had me jam chords (albeit awkwardly) on his electric guitar on Sunday afternoon, and why he insisted I eat more often. The winter blues may strike, but I am trying to take the energy and channel it productively — and I use productive loosely. Creatively might be more appropriate. Or get out of the house, go see some jazz and have a pint (and if you’re in the Portland, Maine area then consider dropping by One Longfellow Square tonight for some live jazz by The Chameleons).
Cheers!
Comment » | Uncategorized, family, life, music, reading, word of the week
Scotland on my mind…
February 9th, 2009 — 10:18am
We watched Local Hero the other night. I had watched most of it once before, but my eyelids betrayed me toward the end, so we gave it another shot. It is one of J’s favorite films, and now I know why. Bill Forsyth wrote and directed the film, released back in 1983. Aside from the beauty of the Scottish shoreline, the film is full of real people — people who do not appear flawless in either appearance or in deed. I will spare details, but if you haven’t already, rent Local Hero and enjoy.
I have also been making my way through season one of All Creatures Great and Small, the BBC television series based upon James Herriot’s book of the same name. I suspect that I will read the book, and though I am generally of the opinion that a book ought to be read prior to watching a television or film adaptation, in this case I believe no harm will be done. The characters are certainly endearing (not to mention the animals) and the setting reminds me that life without all of our modern conveniences was in certain respects superior. 
Communication was most often face to face and people gathered together down at the pub, or over a cup of tea and biscuits and conversed. There is no denying the danger of romanticizing the country life and painting a pastoral but inaccurate picture of the reality of rural life. However, it seems proper to praise true community and determination where it is found. Community was meaningful because people truly needed each other and depended on both the skill and benevolence of their fellow human being. And this of course brings to my mind a number of passages and ideas from one of my favorite authors, Wendell Berry. In his essay “Conserving Communities,” published in Another Turn of the Crank (1993), Berry says this:
In their dealings with the countryside and its people,
the promoters of the so-called global economy are following
a set of principles that can be stated as follows. They
believe that a farm or a forest is or ought to be the same
as a factory; that care is only minimally necessary in the
use of the land; that affection is not necessary at all;
that for all practical purposes a machine is as good as a
human; that the industrial standards of production, effic-
iency, and profitability are the only standards that are
necessary; that the topsoil is lifeless and inert; that
soil biology is safely replaceable by soil chemistry; that
the nature or ecology of any given place is irrelevant to
the use of it; that there is no value in human community or
neighborhood; and that technological innovation will produce
only benign results.
Berry’s mention of affection certainly seems relevant in a discussion of All Creatures, as it is both an affection for people and for the animals to whom they provide care, that is a crucial piece of their veterinary work. It seems to be a vocation rather than a job, which seems an important distinction. In many respects I think that we ought to reconsider the time-saving devices and gadgets that we only suppose make our life easier, though when I say this I realize that in this concept “being made easier” there is an inherent assumption that life is also improved, and this I believe is a mistake.
I have many thoughts bubbling on this greater subject, and hope to continue to flesh these out in this space. And, of course, I welcome your thoughts and comments.
2.5 :: bits of inspiration
February 5th, 2009 — 11:39pm
b&w seems to have seduced me this evening
top: image from how to be an explorer of the world, via wish jar
middle: incredible paper cut by Aoyama Hina
middle: drawing by nigel peake (his work makes me swoon)
bottom: photograph by The 10 cent designer
hoping for a fresh coating of snow soon…