Image-Text-Music

Image-Text-Music, 10.4.14 — Anselm Kiefer, Louis Simpson, Kate Bush

Painting is by Anselm Kiefer, “"Ein Schwert Verhie? mir der Vater" (“My Father Pledged me a Sword” (1974-75)

Painting is by Anselm Kiefer, “”Ein Schwert Verhie? mir der Vater” (“My Father Pledged me a Sword” (1974-75)

“My Father in the Night Commanding No,” by Louis Simpson

 

My father in the night commanding No

Has work to do. Smoke issues from his lips;

      He reads in silence.

The frogs are croaking and the street lamps glow.

 

And then my mother winds the gramophone;

The Bride of Lammermoor begins to shriek—

      Or reads a story—

About a prince, a castle, and a dragon.

 

The moon is glittering above the hill.

I stand before the gateposts of the King—

      So runs the story

Of Thule, at midnight when the mice are still.

 

And I have been in Thule! It has come true—

The journey and the danger of the world,

      All that there is

To bear and to enjoy, endure and do.

 

Landscapes, seascapes … where have I been led?

The names of cities—Paris, Venice, Rome—

      Held out their arms.

A feathered god, seductive, went ahead.

 

Here is my house. Under a red rose tree

A child is swinging; another gravely plays.

      They are not surprised

That I am here; they were expecting me.

 

And yet my father sits and reads in silence,

My mother sheds a tear, the moon is still,

      And the dark wind

Is murmuring that nothing ever happens.

 

Beyond his jurisdiction as I move

Do I not prove him wrong? And yet, it’s true

      They will not change

There, on the stage of terror and of love.

 

The actors in that playhouse always sit

In fixed positions—father, mother, child

      With painted eyes.

How sad it is to be a little puppet!

 

Their heads are wooden. And you once pretended

To understand them! Shake them as you will,

      They cannot speak.

Do what you will, the comedy is ended.

 

Father, why did you work? Why did you weep,

Mother? Was the story so important?

      “Listen!” the wind

Said to the children, and they fell asleep.

 

**

Kate Bush, “Watching You Without Me

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Image-Text-Music

Image-Text-Music, 9.20.14: Japanese Woodprint, Wallace Stevens, Kate Bush

Nightingale

Woodblock print by Ryūryūkyo Shinsai (ca. 1799 – 1823, Edo Period), “New Moon: Nightingale on a Plum Branch

“Autumn Refrain,” Wallace Stevens

The skreak and skritter of evening gone
And grackles gone and sorrows of the sun,
The sorrows of sun, too, gone . . . the moon and moon,
The yellow moon of words about the nightingale
In measureless measures, not a bird for me
But the name of a bird and the name of a nameless air
I have never — shall never hear.  And yet beneath
The stillness of everything gone, and being still,
Being and sitting still, something resides,
Some skreaking and skrittering residuum,
And grates these evasions of the nightingale
Though I have never — shall never hear that bird.
And the stillness is in the key, all of it is,
The stillness is all in the key of that desolate sound.

***

Kate Bush, “Prelude and Prologue” (part of An Endless Sky of Honey)

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