Showing posts with label William Butler Yeats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Butler Yeats. Show all posts

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Sailing to Byzantium

That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

I Saw Three Cities, 1944, Kay Sage, Princeton University Art Museum, Princeton  / Photograph by Bruce M. White
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

Byzantine Mosaic, Hagia Sofia, Istanbul, Western Turkey

O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.


Golden Bird, 1919-20 (Base c. 1922) , Constaintin Brancusi, The Art Institute, Chicago, IL



Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.


~   by W. B. Yeats



I chose to use the art of the Byzantine Empire with more modern art so there was a mix of styles. When I first saw the "Golden Bird" sculpture by Constaintin Brancusi I can honestly say I had mixed feelings about whether I liked it or not. Over the years the elegance and grace of the sculpture has captured my heart.

Yeats was using an imaginative journey through the tangible act of sailing to describe the internal act of reconciliation of becoming an old man and how to maintain a use in a world of younger men. This is a common process people go through in their lives, attempting to reconcile how to be a contributing member of society when you feel "overthrown" or perceive yourself to be unneeded. Yeats makes the journey of the poem toward the sages and away from youth. This description is not far from what truly happens when people look inside themselves at a point in life when they are leaving their "youth" behind and choose to advance their worth by moving toward increased knowledge and the sharing of knowledge.




In the first stanza Yeats refers to the birds in relation to youth when he wrote "In one another's arms, birds in the trees / —Those dying generations—at their song" So it is no surprise that in the fourth stanza Yeats refers to a bird "Or set upon a golden bough to sing"which is important because he has stated once his body is consumed by the fire he wanted to be "Once out of nature I shall never take / My bodily form from any natural thing" implying that he wanted to be a 'golden bird' on a golden bough and that 'golden bird' being outside of nature never dies.




It is important to note that the use of Byzantine was deliberate as the Byzantine arts and culture were rich with fine arts, skilled craftsman, beautiful and elaborate architectures and mosaics. The journey to Byzantium was a journey toward the sages of the arts as much as the mind.




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adj

3. (Fine Arts & Visual Arts / Art Terms) of or relating to the highly coloured stylized form of religious art developed in the Byzantine Empire
4. (Fine Arts & Visual Arts / Architecture) of or relating to the style of architecture developed in the Byzantine Empire, characterized by massive domes with square bases, rounded arches, spires and minarets, and the extensive use of mosaics.


Tuesday, September 18, 2012

No Second Troy, Yeats


Why should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great,
Had they but courage equal to desire?         5
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?  10
Why, what could she have done being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?

~William Butler Yeats, 1893

Helen of Troy was Helen of Sparta, Daughter of Zeus and Leda.  Leda and Helen were born together 

Painted by Cesare da Sesto after a lost painting by Leonardo da Vinci, 1505-1510, Oil on Panel,
Wilton House, Salisbury
In the form of a swan, the king of gods was chased by an eagle, and sought refuge with Leda. The swan gained her affection, and the two mated. Leda then produced an egg, from which Helen emerged. In this version two eggs came from the union, one with Caster and Pollux and one with Helen and Clytemnestra. Throughout Greek mythology the stories vary, but Menelaus was chosen to be Helen's husband and their marriage was the beginning of the age of heroes.    Helen would leave Sparta with Paris, a prince of Troy some stories say by force, some by persuasion, and some by love but they all end the same - with Helen of Troy being the spark needed for Menelaus and Agamemnon to gather the other kings against Troy and eventually burn Troy after the killing of the King of Troy Priam and Paris' brother Hector as well as the death of Achilles by the hand of Paris with Apollo's help or by Apollo disguised as Paris (depending on which version of the myths you read).

Venus preventing her son Aeneas from killing Helen of Troy, (Luca da Reggio) Ferrari, c. 1650,  Oil On Canvas, 128.3 x 169.5 cm, Art Gallery ofSouth Australia, Copyright @ Art Gallery of South Australia 

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The Indian to His Love

Lost Boat, Silvia, DeviantART 

The island dreams under the dawn
And great boughs drop tranquility;
The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
A parrot sways upon a tree,
Raging at his own image in the enameled sea.

Here we will moor our lonely ship
And wander ever with woven hands,
Murmuring softly lip to lip,
Along the grass, along the sands,
Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands:

How we alone of mortals are
Hid under quiet boughs apart,
While our love grows an Indian star,
A meteor of the burning heart,
One with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam and dart,

The heavy boughs, the burnished dove
That moans and sighs a hundred days:
How when we die our shades will rove,
When eve has hushed the feathered ways,
With vapoury footsole by the water's drowsy blaze.

~William Butler Yeats

Monday, June 20, 2011

Love and Friendship


I have two of my best friends who have driven home a point about love this week.  

I said to Whit, I just wish someone would truly love me. She said, "I love you" and she has since I was 13.  

I said to Misty, I miss having that day to day time spent hanging out with someone who loves me.  She said hang out with your family and with me, they love you and I love you. Misty has loved me for 19 years.  

While both knew I meant romantic love, I knew they meant to appreciate love in any form, especially the true love which has grown over time and with great respect - for better or worse; for richer or poorer; in sickness or health; and on into all future lifetimes... 

I love you all.... 

Thank you for loving me and never treading on my dreams but raising them up instead.... This poem was written about romantic love which I inquired about but suits the love of trust, respect, friendship, and light we share, 

A Girl Named Fred

'Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet;
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; a
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."

~Yeats