Friday, 10 April 2015

The Spirit of the Hive: A Philosophical Essay on Bees, Nature & Humans


“If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe, then man would have only four years of life left. No more bees, no more pollination, no more plants, no more animals, no more man."

- Albert Einstein

(Picture by Nocturnal Butterfly)


1. Prologue

Although it has been obvious for a couple of weeks now that Spring is in the air & Summer itself not much further over the horizon, I had a quite exquisite experience very recently which confirmed beyond any doubt that the long Winter nights & short days were coming to a close. Whilst sitting in the lush garden of the glorious Lancrigg Vegetarian Hotel, I suddenly became aware of a loud, deep buzzing noise, not too dissimilar in its intensity to the noise of one of the occasional low flying military aircraft that shatter the ambience with their thunderous, idiotic decibels during what must be pilot training for yet more economically driven invasion plans of the parts of the planet that are rich in fossil fuels by fundamentalist liberal capitalists. But, unlike those intrusions, this other sound, whilst a little unsettling at first, was extremely welcome to me, & not long after hearing it I also got to see from where it came from close up, as this regal visitor somehow found its way into our room. Fortunately, Lydia & I were able to catch her in a glass & release her back into the outdoors where she belonged, & for those of you who haven't quite guessed it yet, this fleeting royal visitor of ours was none other than a majestic queen bumble bee, or humblebee as Darwin had initially called them, because of the humming sound that they make, & a name I actually prefer. Her sudden appearance reminded me of a book that I have that I read when I first purchased it about fifteen years ago & which has, on rereading, enchanted, shocked & enthralled me even more than I recall on that first reading. First published in 1904, The Life of the Bee by the Symbolist, Belgian poet Maurice Maeterlinck is unlike pretty much anything else I have ever read. 



It is far from being a simple study of the bee & its behaviour, although, according to the Introduction, pretty much all of the facts contained within it have since been proved as being extremely accurate, & it is much more of a Symbolist prose poem, in which Maeterlinck meditates on the life of bees, human society & the deepest, most unfathomable questions of nature & indeed life itself. He also, I am glad to say, refuses to be sentimental about the bees & the workings of the hive, which for all its wonders, has moments of extreme cruelty, which can seem quite incomprehensible, yet he also refuses to pass judgement & often pauses to consider how cruel & unfair our human society would appear to an intelligence outside our own, studying us from a lofty height just as we study, unnoticed, these extraordinary little creatures. 

My personal history & fascination with these industrious, treasure giving little souls goes back to my earliest years. I can remember quite vividly watching them in my Nain & Taid's garden when I was, dear reader, believe it or not, even younger than I am now. At first I found them quite intimidating, & like nearly all children I expect, picked up spectacularly inaccurate information about them when I started at school & thought of them as being hardly any different from wasps; that is, very aggressive & having a very painful sting, which was pretty terrifying to an almost pathologically sensitive soul such as mine. But through my own observations & after being given the proper information about them by my Mum, Nain & Taid, who always nurtured my interests during those tender years with such encouragement, I soon came to learn that the bees were of a quite different character to the ferocious wasps that bullied everything that they came into contact with, & I recall being particularly moved when I learned that a bee would only ever sting a person as a desperate last resort, usually if either they themselves or the hive were under grave threat, as once a bee had used its sting on a human, it would die shortly afterwards. As the years have passed I have always felt blessed to see one of them, & they have been in the news for all the wrong reasons recently as their numbers have been falling alarmingly & Albert Einstein himself is reported to have said that should bees become extinct, all life would follow within a time span of approximately four years. This statement is now highly contested, yet for me it is a symbol of the importance of human beings living in harmony with the environment & the creatures that we share the planet with. And even if life could continue without them, who would want a Summer without bees? For as Maeterlinck himself comments, a Summer without bees would be as dreary as a Summer without flowers or birds. As I noted previously, though, Maeterlinck refuses to sentimentalise the life of the bees & some of the things he describes in his book shocked me to the core. Nature itself is often softened & sentimentalised by human beings, but if we are to truly take in its sublimity & mystery, we must surely not refuse to look into its heart of darkness along with its rays of light. 


And so, without further ado, follow me if you dare, dear reader, into the magical, mysterious & oftentimes disturbing & brutal world of the bees & the hive, & ponder, along with me, some of the strange & sublime workings of that impenetrable & hidden force that we choose to call nature. 



2. Introducing the Bees

Maeterlinck's book begins with a kind of history of the bees as we've come to understand them over the centuries & which includes the recognition of many different species with huge variations in appearance & in their habits. Although he gives plenty of scope to many of these species in his book, notably the humble bee, it is the honey bee that his work principally focuses on & is the species which will be most in discussion here. The hive of the honey bee, it was discovered, was not only ingeniously built, but also contained many different types of bee within that one space. At its head is the queen, "the mother of all her people," along with thousands of sterile female workers, hundreds of males, or drones, who contribute nothing to the building or maintenance of the hive, larvae &, of course, there is also the vast reservoirs of honey that the bees create. The workings of the hive are intricate & follow clear patterns that appear to have been ordered by what Maeterlinck beautifully renders as, "the spirit of the hive." In terms of our knowledge of them, one of the most important finds happened in the seventeenth century when it was discovered that the queen, who until that point was presumed to be male, or at the very least, hermaphrodite, was in fact female. Our desire for honey meant that different things were done in an effort to make them more productive, but, & this is one of the main reasons why I have such admiration for these courageous insects, if human interference intervened too much in their way of life, the hive would break down & no honey would therefore be created. If only the rest of the non human world could be so imperious! Battery farms, veal crates, & many other such viciously cruel horrors would never have seen the light of day. Due to the fact that the bees could not be shamelessly exploited by us, it meant that in many respects it paid dividends for bee keepers to treat their bees as kindly as possible & in fact a reciprocal relationship came to exist between them & us. We could provide them with ready made combs, thus saving them much labour, & also help to protect the hives from the ravages of bad weather, which can have catastrophic effects on a bee colony. The ethics of eating honey will be explored at the close of this essay.



3. Spring Awakening



As my encounter with the queen humble bee that I began this blog with earlier showed, early April is also the time when the hive of the honey bee begins to reawaken from its long, Winter's slumber, & as the earth begins to heat up, the members of the hive will begin to make preparation for the trials & tribulations of the Summer ahead. The resident queen will begin to lay her eggs again & with their frequent birth & with the workers soon out foraging among the flowers & the shrubs, the hive will soon be growing in size & in treasure. One of the main difficulties I have had whilst planning how to write this blog is at what point of the bees cycle do I myself begin writing about? For, unlike most human stories, there is no discernible beginning & end, but rather an ever-flowing cycle leading from one Spring to the next. The typical hive then, will usually be a hugely successful one & will have about 15,000 inhabitants. But after a few weeks of Spring, one of the most wondrous things in the cycle of the bee takes place. Maeterlinck describes how a great agitation at this moment begins to show itself in the queen, who acts as if she is being pursued by an invisible force, which then transfers to most of the other inhabitants of the hive. And then, almost without warning, on a clear morning when the weather is favourable, both she & approximately two-thirds of the hive will suddenly depart &, all being well, begin a new life in a new hive that they will erect somewhere far away from this, their previous home. The signal for this mass exodus, it would seem, emanates from that mysterious force known as the spirit of the hive & the queen & the rest of her swarm, in doing so, will have committed an act of immense generosity. Their search for a new hive will be dangerous & may end in failure, but in this act they have followed the law of the hive to its utmost. For pretty much everything that the bees do is concerned only with the future of the species. And the queen & her swarm will have left their hive at the very peak of its powers. All the riches that they themselves have created is left to the next generation. The stores of honey, the vast networks in the hive, everything is left to the future generation that is about to come. How the bees decide on which ones are to fly with the queen & which ones are to stay behind (about a third of the hive's population) is completely unknown, & which Maeterlinck describes as being another clear example of the invisible & infinitely mysterious spirit of the hive. He describes the excitement leading up to the departure that can be visibly observed on the bees that are to migrate & compares this with the relative sombre mood of the ones that have been designated to stay. But on this remarkable mystery, I guess there is little to add. We will stay for now, however, with the hive that has just been deserted by the previous queen & two thirds of its population, as the birth of a new queen is probably as good a place as any to really begin with the story of the bees.



4. The New Queen



Within a couple of days of the departure of the swarm, from out of the larvae that are destined to become queens, a fully formed young queen will be born. She will very soon become acquainted with her role & her surroundings, & another of the great mysteries of the hive will begin to play out. For somehow, the hive will already know whether this queen will also swarm later that Summer or whether she will remain until next year. This will determine how the workers respond to her, but one thing that is absolutely certain will be the almost immediate desire & ferocity with which she will attempt to kill her rival sisters in their royal cells. If, as most hives do, she is to be the last queen of the Summer, she will proceed to kill all of the other princesses - still in larvae form - with her fierce sting before they are born. But if two happen to be born at the same time, they will fight until the bitter end until one of them is destroyed. But if she is destined to swarm that Summer, the workers will form a barricade & protect the other larvae until a waxen wall is built to keep her away from them, as once she has departed, the remaining larvae may well be needed to bring forth another queen. As always with the bees, the future of the species takes precedence over everything else. Maeterlinck describes how on these occasions the frustrated war cry of the recently born queen can be clearly heard outside of the hive by an experienced bee keeper. But as there is usually only one swarm per Summer, the workers in this instance will stand aside whilst she jealously kills all of her rival siblings. Some of the other uncanny laws of the hive are revealed at this time also, as no matter how angrily she approaches the workers in an attempt to get at her sisters they will never use their stings against a queen, although they frequently use them in quarrels with each other. It's as if there is a rule that they follow that only the giver of life has the right to take life away. And likewise, the queen will never use her sting, shaped like a scimitar rather than the straight sting of the workers, against any creature, whether that be the workers or drones in the hive, humans, horses or even a lion, except against her royal sisters. Strange are the workings of nature, I'm sure you will agree.

With this grim task completed, the new queen now enters the next stage of her existence, which is as strange in its complexity as any that has gone before. Nature has designed her to be able to give birth almost immediately, but these eggs, being unfertilised, can only grow into male drones. For this reason, it is paramount that she mates & this has to be done within the first twenty days of her life, as otherwise only males will be born & the hive would soon die out. She thus prepares for another of the chapters in the mysterious life of the bee: the nuptial flight. 

Before she takes to the air for this vital part of her & her descendants' existence, she will be already surrounded by hundreds of male drones, & each every surrounding hive will also home hundreds if not thousands of males as well. They too have their own story to tell, but I shall return to that later, as for now we are concerned with the queen. Maeterlinck, in one of the most poetic sections of this already gloriously poetic book, describes what the queen is waiting for: a glorious morning where the dew still moistens the grass, leaves & flowers. And once this perfect morning arrives, she makes her way to the entrance of the hive & leaves it for the first, &, unless she leads a swarm at some point in the future, the only time in her life. Her presence in the air immediately awakens the instincts of the lazy males, who, languidly nestling among the flowers or in one of the many hives, are stirred from their slumber & soon she will be surrounded by up to 10,000 of them, in whom her presence to them is absolutely magnetic. Soon, she will rise higher than any of the workers or males normally fly, & the way Maeterlinck describes what is happening at this time is worth quoting in full:

"She soars to a height, a luminous zone, that other bees attain at no period of life. Far away, caressing their idleness in the midst of the flowers, the males have beheld the apparition, have breathed her magnetic perfume that spreads like wildfire from group to group." 

The queen, as if intoxicated, soars ever higher, higher than where the birds fly, as if an unwritten law of her mating ritual demands that it not be witnessed or profaned by any other living creature. Below her, the males struggle to keep up. Many fall away, the elderly, sick or ill-fed, who are unable to fly to the heights that she demands of them. Gradually the numbers decrease until only a handful remain. Still she soars ever higher until only one, the strongest out of the multitude of thousands that departed with this one goal in mind remains, & now, chosen as if by magic for his strength & perseverance, or as Maeterlinck describes, "the chosen of the will to life," seizes her &, "...bounding aloft with united impetus, the ascending spiral of their intertwined flight whirls for one second in the hostile madness of love." (p. 139-140)

As if this isn't extraordinary enough, what follows is surely as mysterious as life can possibly be.

No sooner has mating taken place than the male detaches from the queen, but as he does so, half of his body breaks in two with the lower half remaining attached to the queen. With his life work completed, however, his wings relax & he falls without struggle to the floor, his life having expired usually before he even reaches the ground. The queen herself now returns to the hive, where she is greeted with rapture on her arrival, for, having been impregnated, she is now the true sovereign of the future of the race of the hive, & the workers immediately help her to remove the remains of her dead lover & she is ushered by her guards back to the royal quarters at the centre of the hive. 

This part of the story of the life of the bee made me make comparisons with how we as human beings are in certain parts of our lives, & certainly made me think that no matter how far we travel in terms of civilisation, the animal part of our nature is still a big part of us, too, & will probably never go completely away as when all is said & done, we are animals too. Even a momentary glance at our culture shows just how powerful the image & personae of strong women is to many men. Translated into cinematic terms, the impact that the queen has on the males on her nuptial flight is mirrored a thousand times by legendary femme fatales who lead men to their doom in countless film noir movies. And when, in his death scene the male leading character invariably gets asked that if he could go back in time would he do anything differently, almost always comes the same reply: "No!" Just like the male bees, it would appear that in cultural representations, men would prefer danger, excitement & even death because of a beautiful, dominant woman to security & boredom. And Hollywood itself abounds with the stories of fierce independent women such as Elizabeth Taylor, Ava Gardner (who it is believed is the only woman Frank Sinatra was never able to dominate) &, my personal favourite, Louise Brooks, who both on screen & off, wielded a fascination that worked on the people around them in extraordinary ways & was said to be in itself a kind of magical magnetism. And when the cultural critic Camille Paglia comments in her book Vamps & Tramps, that, "I believe that woman is the dominant sex... everyone knows this. Everyone knows throughout world culture that woman dominates man. Everyone but feminists know that!" it is difficult to argue. From historical figures such as Cleopatra, to films such as Pandora's Box, Basic Instinct, & Fatal Attraction, & even songs such as 'Woman in Chains' by Tears For Fears, history & culture is awash with examples of men being hypnotised by, or sometimes being envious & fearful of, women's magnetic sexual power. 



And regarding the death of the male bee immediately after copulation, isn't there a ready made phrase that describes that feeling? The French saying, La petite mort, which translates as "a little death" & is meant to refer to this precise feeling that can be experienced immediately after male orgasm.



We may try to convince ourselves that we are only spiritual beings, but for me, human life will always involve the collision of our spiritual nature & our animal nature, for I am of the opinion that we are in possession of both, & the animal side will always be likely to erupt - just venture out into any big city or town centre on a Friday or Saturday night if you doubt me on this. And as for trying to make any sense of it all, I think I will call on Shakespeare's Hamlet in an attempt to sum up my feelings of incomprehension at this juncture:

"There are more things in heaven & earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." 

To return to our queen who has recently returned to the hive, however, she will soon begin to lay eggs that will grow into male drones, sterile female workers & of course, new queens, now that she has been fertilised, & for this she is showered with affection on her return by the inhabitants, yet it is worth remembering that the main reason for this is because of what she now truly symbolises & represents: the future of the race. It is also interesting to note that unless she leaves this hive at the head of a swarm, she will probably never venture out & see sunlight ever again. She will also never mate again, as she will have stored enough of the male's sperm in a special organ which will enable her to remain fertilised for the rest of her days. It is immensely strange to me that this most revered being, who rules over the hive & which she will continue to populate, is as trapped by the laws of nature as the workers around her. Her natural life span is of around five to six years, after which she will be replaced by a new queen, just as she replaced the previous queen who has just swarmed. Another haunting part of the story of the queen is how, if she remains alive but ceases to lay eggs as she reaches the last period of her life, a secluded spot will be made for her far out of sight of the new, murderous queen, where she will be able to see out her final days in peace. The story of the queen of the hive is one that fills me with compassion, & even the ruthlessness with which she kills her sisters has eerie overtones in human society. I have personally noticed (being an expert people watcher!) how a great many women can barely disguise their deep-seated hatred of other women, even if on the surface they appear friendly to each other, & there are always stories surfacing in the press of women ferociously attacking other women who are rivals for their partners. On a slightly lighter note, however, a quote by one of the great dandies of our age also comes to my mind whilst considering this phenomenon, Sebastian Horsley, who sarcastically quipped in his book Dandy In The Underworld that, "A misogynist is a man who hates women as much as women hate each other."





5. The Massacre of the Males

Which brings us back to the males, of which there are hundreds in each hive, but whom, nature has decreed, will not do anything in terms of gathering the pollen with which the honey is made or any of the building & maintenance of the combs, which is left entirely to the sterile female workers to do. But again, it is almost impossible to judge them too harshly, as nature hasn't provided them with any of the tools necessary for these tasks. They have no sacks with which to collect pollen & their mandibles are not strong enough to be able to design the combs. They, or rather, one from among the thousands, it would appear have been selected & given life for one task only: to impregnate the queen on her nuptial flight. Maeterlinck struggles at times to disguise his contempt for the males, who, he observes, compared to the workers in the hive, are, "indelicate & wasteful, sleek & corpulent, fully content with their existence... they feast & carouse, throng the alleys & block the passages; jostling & jostled, fatuously pompous & swelled with foolish, good natured contempt," they live out their time sparring with each other & gorging on the honey. But as with the queen, it is difficult not to feel sympathy for these creatures, as they are as enslaved to the laws of nature as the workers & the queen herself is, & after the nuptial flight, what happens next is another example of the occasional brutality of the hive.

As the days continue after the queen has returned from her nuptial flight, the workers will continue to gather pollen, make honey & nurture the larvae & the young, whilst the returning males will continue their boisterous existence in the hive. But, gradually, a change comes over the workers, who have been patient to a fault with them up until this time. And then, all at once, as if an order has issued from the spirit of the hive, the workers will suddenly unleash all of their fury on the gluttonous males who are dragged from their cells & ruthlessly massacred, in their hundreds if not thousands, until all of them are expelled from the hive & slain. The way that Maeterlinck describes this scene has obvious parallels with human society as well. The way he describes the uprising of the workers against the males could quite easily be interpreted as a call to revolution among the human working classes. His description of the male bees, who live off the labour of others' has clear connections with the factory owners of the early twentieth century, who would have often made huge profits through the efforts of their grossly underpaid workers. And as a reader in the twenty first century, it still remains a blistering attack on capitalism, & who can say whether it will in turn become prophetic, & whether one day the workers & dispossessed will turn on the obscenely wealthy owners of giant corporations & the corrupt bankers, as well as the politicians that serve them, thus bringing about a new & fairer society? We can but guess at this, but once again, this part of the life of the hive had me feeling increasingly unsettled due to it being yet another troubling example of the often cruel & incomprehensible workings of nature.

Before leaving the males, though, I would like to recall that solitary, chosen one of the will to life: that is, the single one of those many thousand that succeeded in his life's primary mission & mated with the queen, only to die almost immediately afterwards. Will he have had any knowledge of his privilege? Will he have been aware that he was the only one to have fulfilled his destiny & been responsible for the future survival of his race? Will the act have been blissful? So many questions arise in my mind when I consider this event, including the way that nature has seemingly made the sole purpose of the male's existence to be that of being the queen's one-time lover. And has nature preferred the lovers to the workers, judging by their differing habits? Maeterlinck remarks on how, in his opinion, & there is ample evidence to support this theory through the life of the bees, that the only thing that is important to nature is the continuation of the species. And can it tell us anything about human nature, love & desire? Unlike middle class & religious morality, which praises restraint & views pleasure with suspicion & hostility, an idea which the symbolists, decadents & aesthetes fervently opposed, nature too, according to Maeterlinck, "...is always magnificent when dealing with the privileges & prerogatives of love, & she is particularly severe on what men have termed virtue: 'Unite & multiply; there is no other law, or aim, than love', would seem to be Nature's constant cry... & exist afterwards if you can, that is no concern of mine." In terms of what I have read about the life & mating ritual of the honey bee, it is very difficult to argue convincingly against Maeterlinck's conclusion. The happiness of the individual is of little concern to nature when compared with its concern with the continuation of the race. Thousands of males are produced & later massacred when only one is actually needed, & yet the successful one expires immediately after the act. He is then of little to no importance once his function has been fulfilled & is discarded. And even the royal queen, who although she lives on, may never see the sun or a flower again, except on the dangerous occasions when she has to swarm to build another colony. But she will lay millions of eggs during her lifetime of virtual imprisonment, thus ensuring that the race continues. Human morality is also put into sharp contrast here, as so-called 'sluttish' sexual behaviour or living a life of sensuality has long been frowned upon by the Puritans & moralists, & yet, it could be argued that this is exactly what nature has designed us for. Freud discussed the great importance in life of ''the pleasure principle', which he saw as being one of the prime drives in all living organisms & which consists of the pursuit of pleasure coupled with the aim of avoiding pain. One thing is surely certain, however, & that is that humanity's endless search for pleasure, even if it can sometimes lead to danger, will probably never go away. 



6. The Female Workers

Of all the bees in the hive, it is probably the sterile, female workers who receive the least attention in Maeterlinck's book, but this doesn't make them any less fascinating. Unlike the queen, they only have a lifespan of about three to four months, & almost all of their short lives is spent in performing specialised tasks which include foraging for honey, cleaning the hive, nursing the young, protecting & feeding the queen, through to constantly beating their wings so as to keep the hive at the correct temperature. The only time they rest from their labour is during a couple of days before they swarm, & Maeterlinck describes this scene as being like a carnival. They feast on the honey that they have so indefatigably gathered & become quite drunk on it, along with the simple joy of being alive. In a wonderful passage he describes how they behave at this time, & it conjures up wonderful images in my imagination of all those little creatures bumping into each other in the passages in the hive, drunkenly falling off leaves, & generally partying like it's 1999. And I am thrilled that they are able to do so, as it is their tireless work that enables the hive to flourish. And interestingly, it is often subtle changes in the female workers' behaviour that are most clearly manifested once a message has seemingly been issued from the spirit of the hive. They have an absolutely vital role in all things, many of which I have described, & play a huge part in the decision making that happens in the colony, & it is they who have to protect the queen & prevent her from killing her sisters if it has been decreed that she will swarm during the same Summer after her birth. Their role in the massacre of the males I have already recounted, & although it is the queen that takes her place at the head of the hive, it is they, not the queen, who get to fly out into the open & visit the flowers every day, & it is they who have their own dances that they perform when they are excited, & it is they who are the living embodiment of the real spirit of the bees: the spirit of always looking into the future at the expense of themselves. It is also, of course, mostly worker bees that we humans have the good fortune to see & hear, busying around the flowers, on beautiful, long Summer days. 



7. September Song

And so, with the massacre of the males completed & as summer begins to draw to its close, the inhabitants of the hive begin to prepare for their winter sleep. As the workers take the last amounts of pollen from the fading flowers, the colony starts to slow down in its production, & gets ready to see out the cold, long winter months, safely enclosed within the hive & with their vast treasure of honey to feed upon. By October, the bees will have ceased to leave the hive & will slow down considerably, apart from the constant, regular beating of their wings which will keep them & the hive warm. And this is how things will remain until the first rays of sun begin to warm up the earth again next April at the start of Spring, when the whole wondrous cycle will begin again. 

Before closing, however, a quick update on the original queen & her swarm, which left our hive to form a new one at the beginning of the blog. If all has gone well, which is how I want to imagine it to be, that hive will also reawaken from its Winter rest in early April, & the decision on whether that queen will once again swarm or stay where she is will be decided by that extremely mysterious force, the spirit of the hive. The same fate will await our queen as she awakens, too, & who is to say from where these commands issue or who makes them. And in human matters also, who knows what forces propel us forward, & whether those forces come from within us or from without? 



8. Of Bees & Men

So, for any of you still with me at this point, it might be fair to ask: why so much interest in the bees? For me, it's not just a study of the bees but also an enquiry that delves into some of the deepest mysteries of life & some of the greatest enigmas of nature itself. Maeterlinck paints a picture of the bees that is fascinating & often disconcerting, & some of nature's cruelties are there for all to see, but so are her wondrous intricacies & moments of breathtaking beauty & wonder. After rereading this book, I left it with an even greater admiration for these extraordinary little creatures than before, even though some aspects of their world is quite horrifying. They are, if Einstein is correct, absolutely vital to life itself, & what, I wonder, if anything, can we deduce from them? One thing that truly astounds Maeterlinck is the intelligence that they show in their use of the hexagon in the designs of their combs. Apparently, many scientists have confirmed through mathematics that this shape is by far the best for their particular needs, yet as not all species of bee use them, it would seem that the honey bees have somehow figured this out for themselves. Another thing that struck a chord with me is some of the little details of their lives. Although they are undoubtedly creatures of the crowd, Maeterlinck was able, through placing some honey on his table & paying such close attention that he came to be able to  recognise certain individuals, he discovered some tiny individual traits among the workers. And while some of the bees would obviously go back to the hive & spread the news of this great & fortunate bounty & bring others back with them to help gather it all up whilst it was available, certain other bees would obviously keep the knowledge of this great find to themselves, no doubt wanting the rapturous acclaim that they received as they returned each time to the hive laden with treasure! It would seem that the bees may have some issues with ego as well! The clearest memory I have from when I first read this book when I purchased it about fifteen years ago, was the heart-wrenching fact that if a bee is isolated from the hive, it will soon die, but not from a lack of pollen, food or air, but of loneliness. 

Some of you may also be tempted to ask, "why all the comparisons & asides to discuss the relevance of the behaviour of the bees with that of human beings?" I would reply that by doing this, I think I have actually read Maeterlinck in the correct way. Maeterlinck was one of the greatest Symbolist writers & by its very definition, Symbolism means looking for meanings apart from the ones that are literally represented. There are plenty of examples during the book to suggest Maeterlinck had this in mind, & comparing the hive to human society is a tantalising one. The Life of the Bee was first published in 1904, a time when some of Darwin's ideas about natural selection were taking a firm hold, even leading to people, especially those on the political right, twisting those ideas to suit their own political agendas. Darwin's "survival of the best adapted" soon became "the survival of the fittest", a phrase he actually never used, & some parts of The Life of the Bee make for uncomfortable reading from this point of view. Maeterlinck's descriptions of the males that were unable to keep up with the queen on her nuptial flight or the harshness that the bees display to ill or injured work mates, could all be seen to provide "natural evidence" for the idea of the survival of the fittest, although as history shows, when humanity takes this as its template for the treatment of its weaker members, Nazi extermination camps can be the result. Maeterlinck clearly offers a counterpoint to this reading of his book, as evidenced by his description of the massacre of the males by the workers, which if translated into human terms, would be the overthrow of the wealthy by the workers through violent revolution. Maeterlinck's book, for me, however, is much more concerned with the deepest mysteries of nature, of which the bees & the hive offer mesmerising examples. He seems to come to the conclusion, which I also share, that the more discoveries we make only prove to show how little we actually know. The spirit of the hive is one of the most extraordinary aspects of the life of the bees, & it reminded me of many of the discussions I have had about different beliefs or philosophies over the years. Whether we choose to call this invisible power "evolution," "God," "the force of Nature," or, as the Daoists I have met increasingly over the past five years through Lydia's classes with Damo Mitchell at Lotus Nei Gong would perhaps call it, "the Flow of the Dao," one thing is clear to me: it is an unfathomable & almost impenetrable mystery. I personally question if we will ever truly understand why Something exists rather than Nothing, or why nature works the way it does, with exceptional beauty on one side but also with such cruelty & indifference on the other. Maeterlinck, I would suggest, agrees with me on this. The really positive message I came away from this book with is that of all the ways to respond to life & the enigmas that surround us, the most important thing to hold in one's heart is simply this: admiration. Maeterlinck doubts we will ever find "the truth" about existence, but, he maintains, the search for truth, & for beauty, is still of paramount importance. When we see the beauty in something, that is when we see it as it really is, is Maeterlinck's message, & this will in turn increase our admiration & enhance our inquisitive nature, which for him is the absolutely crucial approach to life. I am reminded here of the wonderful lines that Richard Burton delivers as Dr. Dysarth in Peter Schaffer's magnificent play, Equus: "Worship...worship all that you can see, & then more will appear." Maeterlinck gives a poignant description of how deep admiration & inquisitiveness can lead to an individual overcoming great difficulties in their quest, when he relays the story of Francois Huber, who was born in Geneva in 1750, & adored the bees from a very early age only to become blind in his youth. Despite this, & with the help of his intelligent & faithful servant, Francois Burnens, he still devoted his entire life to the study of the bees. Huber, it is reported, guided with his spirit the hands of the other who could actually see, & in this way, they made several important discoveries that at that point in time were still unknown, even publishing books on some of their theories. Maeterlinck writes that this extraordinary story, if nothing else, can "teach us that no condition in life can warrant our abandoning our desire & search for the truth." 

To close, then, I couldn't help but ask myself as I closed The Life of the Bee after reading its final page, is there anything that we can learn from the bees & the hive & the way that their lives are arranged?

As the Introduction warns, a human society based on that of the hive would be probably a fascist one, so in may respects, the workings of the hive serve as a warning, rather than a model. But beyond that, I feel there is one area of their approach to existence that we could definitely benefit from: their belief in the importance of the generations of the future. The future of the race is really the primary force in everything that the bees do, & is in sharp contrast to how human beings live in the world today, with rampant consumerism & liberal capitalist ideology leading towards what could well be catastrophic changes in the temperature of our climate. The way that the queen & at least two thirds of the hive will suddenly abandon all the treasure that they have themselves have amassed so that the new generation will have the greatest possible chance is awe-inspiring. Their boundless act of generosity is distinctly at odds with how the richest members in liberal capitalist society guard their wealth like spoiled, jealous brats, yet this pathological behaviour, along with the relentless consumption of unnecessary products, is effectively drilled into us all from the moment we go to school & from almost every angle of popular culture, particularly from advertising. We even charge students to go to college & university in order to learn. In this, I would suggest the bees make us look like rather small minded & mean spirited. But Maeterlinck finishes his book on a glorious note about how we can perhaps take a little of the bees' philosophy into our own lives, which I am sure we would do well to consider:

"Let us not vex ourselves with asking who it shall benefit from the force that is accumulating at our expense. The bees know not whether they will eat the honey they harvest, as we know not who will profit from the spiritual substance we introduce into the universe. As they go from flower to flower collecting more honey than they themselves & their offspring need, so let us go from reality to reality seeking food for the incomprehensible flame, &, certain that we have filled our body's organic duty, let us prepare ourselves for whatever may befall. Let us nourish this flame on our feelings & passions, on all that we see & think, that we hear & touch, & on its own essence."





 9. Epilogue

As a vegetarian of many many years, something I feel I have to consider when contemplating the bees & our relationship with them is the ethics of eating honey. I despise the exploitation of non human life just as I despise the exploitation of human beings, so this is an important issue for me. Any of you who are reading this who know me will probably already be more than aware of how sensitive I am to whatever it is that I am being exposed to, having been blessed/cursed with having near transparent skin (or silk as Lydia would describe it), & ever since I read the first sentence of Maeterlinck's book last month, I have not been completely sure whether I was a human being having a bee-like experience or a bee having a human-like one! For this reason, during this period, I have been yearning for honey intensely, & although there will probably be vegans out there who have come to very different conclusions than the one I have, this is how I feel about it at the moment.

As I have already mentioned, for bees to produce honey & live out their life cycle they have to be left in relative peace. If human involvement becomes too great, they simply will not do all of the things that I have just described in this blog. I adore this about them & I only wish that all the species of animals that we exploit so ruthlessly could act in a similar manner. Because of this, & because of the fact that bees make far more honey than they will ever use, & that we in turn can help them greatly along the way by supplying them with ready made combs & protecting them from the devastating effects of the weather, I see no problem with occasionally eating locally sourced, organic honey. Maeterlinck mentions that the amount of honey a single bee makes is about 6, 000 times its own body weight & that they never come close to using all of the honey that the hive contains. I am no bee expert, of course, & if I am romanticising our relationship with them too much, which appears to me to be one of co-operation, then I would be grateful to hear the views of anybody who feels differently or has different information & I will rethink my position. It is impossible to go through life without harming or taking the energy of other life forms (such as the fruits that the earth provides us with), but this is how nature works & without them we would perish. The key in all of this for me, regarding the bees, is that we can eat honey by having an equal give & take relationship with them, as I have just described. and it is worth considering Maeterlinck, who was himself a vegetarian, again in this regard, for as he writes in another of his books, The Intelligence of Flowers, "The bee, like all that struggle against death in this world of ours, exists only for herself & for her kind, & is in no way concerned to render a service to the flowers that feed her." And likewise, the flowers have no consideration for the bees, but simply attract them so they can be pollinated. But this situation works perfectly for both parties, &, quite beautifully, both render vital services to the other without even being aware of it. For now, & with the knowledge that I currently have on the subject, this is how I would like to consider our relationship with these extraordinary, fascinating little creatures.

Stay Beautiful.


(Picture by Nocturnal Butterfly)


Bibliography:

Maeterlinck, Maurice. Tr. by Alfred Sutro. The Life of the Bee. Folio Society Ltd (1995 [1904])

Paglia, Camille. Vamps & Tramps. Penguin (1994)

Horsley, Sebastian. Dandy in the Underworld: An Unauthorised Autobiography. Sceptre (2007)

Tears For Fears -  'Woman in Chains':


Thursday, 9 April 2015

Shyness is Nice, But...

"Shyness is nice, but,
Shyness can stop you...


...From doing all the things
 in life you'd like to!"
- The Smiths, Ask



Stay Beautiful.

Tuesday, 13 January 2015

Anywhere Out Of This World

"Others will be reminded by these poems & visions 
of forgotten aesthetes & lonely magicians, the 
last witnesses of a period which 
tried to be sublime." 
- Philippe Julian, Dreamers of Decadence (1969)



There is much to be said for spending time in a beautiful, quiet art gallery, & being able to fall under the spell of exquisite, wonderful works of art whilst the world outside goes about its daily routine of consumer insanity, murder & mayhem. 

In 1891, the Belgian painter Fernand Khnopff first exhibited a work, I Lock My Door Upon Myself, that is in some respects the essence of the Symbolist vision, & in many ways, that is how I've felt like dealing with life at times over the past few months. In this painting, a sad woman stares out blankly at the viewer with great big saucer eyes, & the different shades of blue that dominate the picture enhance the feel of the piece exquisitely. 



I've read so much about the Symbolist movement over the years & the way that they withdrew from the modern world of commerce & the machine, with all its attendant ugliness, to the inner world of the imagination & dreams, as well as to literature, music & art, in fact "anywhere out of this world," has long since fascinated me. And as we now enter the year that has been specified as being number 2015, it seems to me as if the world that the Symbolist's sought to flee has become even more cruel, unfair & vulgar, & when I consider the response that Russell Brand, who, although he doesn't vote, even his most virulent detractors must surely admit is vitally engaged with politics & political issues & is tirelessly attempting to get other people engaged in politics, too, received on his recent appearance on Question Time, the Symbolist's escape tactic increasingly seems like a pretty good idea. Seeing that show on the i player, with people in the audience who Russell wants to try & represent & make things better for turning on him with such vitriol, whilst the anti-life, immigrant hating UKIP leader Nigel Farage strutted his vile views, filled me with horror & made my heart sink, & I oftentimes think that the human race will probably always create societies with massive inequality, treat non-human sentient life as nothing more than a thing, scapegoat minorities & the vulnerable & in fact treat the entire eco-system that enables life to exist with nothing other than scorn & contempt. It's almost as if a part of me thinks that the game is up, & all that is left is to take some cold comfort in knowing that none of it is being done in my name, with my consent or vote, (the Green Party get my 'X') & that attempting to make the most of beautiful, life enhancing moments whilst there is still time is perhaps the best that can be hoped for.

With these ever so cheery thoughts, it is good to remember that one of the most important parts of life, for me, is to try & experience as many of those beautiful & sublime moments as possible, for that, in a sense, is perhaps all we have, & the opportunity to spend some time at Bristol Art Gallery & Museum last month enabled me to do exactly that, & also taught me once again that there is an uncanny hidden power that can draw its mysterious veil over us at certain moments. Having looked online at the gallery's collection, the two rooms that I was most excited about seeing were the Victorian Room (called Places of Desire) which I thought must house some Pre-Raphaelite paintings & then, to a lesser degree, the French Art Room, as although I enjoy many paintings by the Impressionists, they don't seduce me in anything like the same manner that the Pre-Raphaelites & the Symbolists do.


I began, then, in The Victorian Room, which was an absolute joy, truly a feast for the senses & the soul, & my heart skipped a beat when it first made contact with this beauty through the entrance...




Frederik Leighton - The Fisherman & the Syren (1856-58)

Based on a poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (see below), it recounts the story of a mermaid who has come ashore to complain to the fisherman that he is stealing all of her children. She then uses her enchanting beauty to entice the fisherman into the sea, & as well as the obvious sensual power of the picture, it also struck me as being highly relevant today. The singer & political activist Antony Hegarty has been talking recently about his ideas for a Future Feminism, in which he maintains that it is now clear beyond any doubt that patriarchal systems do not work, monotheism has failed, & that the only possible salvation for our planet & all life that resides on it is if human beings move into more feminine systems of governance, ones which which nurture co-operation rather than relentless competition & which attempt to live in harmony with the environment rather than exploit it. As I contemplated this painting, that is what I thought a part of it was trying to express. It was as if the mermaid had become so exasperated at the fisherman that the only option left open to her was to use her sexuality in a bid to stop him. It's as if her seductive graces are the only means remaining, as he is larger than her, stronger than her & apparently completely blind to the suffering he is bringing to the silvery creatures of the water. The picture tells of the moment when the syren has got his complete attention, & because of this, the fishes are falling out of his net & back home into the sea. I left this painting feeling that it could be interpreted as being an allegory for the validity of women using their sexual power over men in an instance such as this, as she is protecting nature & the natural world whilst the only thing he wants to do is consume & destroy it.


The Fisherman

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The water rushed, the water swelled,

A fisherman sat by,
And gazed upon his dancing float
With tranquil-dreaming eye.
And as he sits, and as he looks,
The gurgling waves arise;
A maid, all bright with water drops,
Stands straight before his eyes. 

She sang to him, she spake to him:
"My fish why dost thou snare,
With human wit and human guile,
Into the killing air?
Couldst see how happy fishes live
Under the stream so clear,
Thyself would plunge into the stream,
And live for ever there.

"Bathe not the lovely sun and moon
Within the cool, deep sea,
And with wave-breathing faces rise
In twofold witchery?
Lure not the misty heaven-deeps,
So beautiful and blue?
Lures not thine image, mirrored in
The Fresh eternal dew?"

The water rushed, the water swelled,
It clasped his feet, I wis'
A thrill went through his yearning heart,
As when two lovers kiss!
She spake to him, she sang to him:
Resistless was her strain;
Half drew him in, half lured him in;
He ne'er was seen again.


John Storer Cobb's English translation of 'The Fisherman' was first published in Goethe: Poetical Works, vol. 1. Boston: Francis A Niccolls & Company, 1902.



On the immediate right of this picture was a huge canvas by Franck Dicksee entitled La belle dame sans merci (1901), a representation of John Keats's wonderful & famous poem about an enchanting but deadly femme fatale... 


This was again, a picture that invaded the senses with its rich, dazzling colours & whilst I sat there I could almost smell the grass & hear the buzzing of the honey bees whilst the breeze rustled the leaves, such was its pervasive & intoxicating atmosphere. I was & still am intrigued by the knight's crucifixion pose & to what Dicksee may have meant by portraying him in such a way, & the dame of the title is a stunning reproduction of a Pre-Raphaelite heroine, her long red hair streaming down in torrents as she bends over to kiss, bewitch, & bewilder the hapless knight. And of course, it also reminded me of Keats's amazing poem; what could be finer?


La belle dame sans merci (1819)


by John Keats

Ballad

I.
O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.


II.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms!
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.


III.
I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.


IV.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.


V.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look’d at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.


VI.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery’s song.


VII.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
“I love thee true.”


VIII.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept, and sigh’d fill sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.


IX.
And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream’d
On the cold hill’s side.


X.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”


XI.
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill’s side.


XII.
And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.



The third painting which stole my heart in this room was Unconscious Rivals (1893) by Lawrence Alma-Tadema, & really has to be seen in the original in order for the viewer to grasp the incredibly rich colours & detail that it contains...


The red hues of the domed background & the rich purples of the flowers made this an incredibly sensuous picture, & at times it made me feel like I was swimming in a sea of colour & lush scents that wafted over from the flowers. Closer inspection revealed the extraordinary detail which was reminiscent of a photograph. And the title of the picture with the two women, probably rivals for a love match, as suggested by the cupid statue who sits on top of the marble whilst absent-mindedly playing with some material or scarf, is a fascinating one. It certainly made me think of Freud, as the painting seems to echo his theory that a great deal of what human beings actually desire comes from the realm of the unconscious, & the women, who hold hands without affection, are probably friends who don't want to acknowledge to themselves that they are in direct competition for the same love object. Cupid's equally unconscious attention to the two women suggests that love & desire itself can sometimes spring from a place that is beyond whatever Cupid is actually concentrating on, the scarf, which perhaps in this case represents the conscious mind. Once again, this was a gloriously sensual work, & I took great delight in contemplating the riches & mysteries contained within it.


Next was the French Art Room, & although there were a couple of pictures in there that I enjoyed, nothing had grabbed my attention as had happened in the previous room. And then, one of those very strange occurrences that never cease to amaze me, took place. A couple of months ago, Lydia took me to a wonderful second hand book shop that I hadn't been to before, even though it's only a few minutes' drive away, & just as we were getting ready to leave the shop, I felt a strange sensation that felt like I was being drawn to a corner of the room that we hadn't explored. There were only a few books in that particular bit of the shop & I wasn't going to wander over there as they looked as if they had just been left in a pile & perhaps were going to be thrown away as nobody would be interested in them. I felt compelled to follow this strange feeling, however, & to my utter amazement & delight, my eyes were drawn, as if by magic, straight to the particular Modern Penguin Classics edition of F. Scott Fitzgerald's Flappers & Philosophers that has a photograph of Louise Brooks on the cover & which I have been searching for without success for years. 


I probably made an involuntary sound of delight at this moment & I could feel my heart beating in my temples. Tis a strange world, indeed, & that particular piece of good fortune felt like a gift from an unknown realm & it truly felt like a mysterious force had willed me over to that corner where I would thereby find the book that I have sought for such a long time. And lo & behold, this happened to me once again, in the French Art Room. In the corner were two very small works, which I was in two minds as to whether to take the time to go over & explore as there were lots of other interesting things to see at the gallery & I knew I had to choose carefully as I only had a limited amount of time. And then, that unseen force took hold of me once again & I was summoned to that corner without really having consciously decided that that was what I wanted to do. Imagine if you can my surprise & sheer exhilaration when I realised that those two pictures were by two of the greatest Symbolist artists, Gustave Moreau & Odilon Redon! I literally could hardly believe my eyes. To find works by Moreau & Redon in this strange manner when I had no idea the gallery even had paintings by them I imagine felt a little bit like finding a winning lottery ticket that you didn't realise you had in your velvet jacket. The strangeness of this occurrence was not lost on me as I gazed enraptured at these small, but exquisite pictures. I sat down & turned my attention firstly to Redon's Rider on the Beach with Two Ships (1905-1908) which was mesmerising & haunting in a way that is difficult to describe. 


The horse with its strange head, the two ghost-like ships & the flash of green in the centre all conjured fantastic imaginings, & it was an absolute privilege & delight to bathe in the glow of one of Redon's pictures, an artist who once said of his work that, " My drawings inspire, & are not to be defined. They place us, as does music, in the ambiguous realm of the undetermined." Those words are probably the closest I could get to describing how I felt looking at Redon's picture, & the most accurate analogy I can find would be how whilst contemplating this picture, time seemed to stand perfectly still in a very similar way to how it had done when I first heard Claude Debussy's Prelude a l'apres-midi d'un faune performed by a full orchestra for the first time at the Liverpool Philharmonic Hall. And if I was to sum up, I would say that observing Redon's dream-like painting echoed listening to Debussy in this enchanting, time shifting manner.

Cue, Tim Booth:

"Dust motes, in a beam of light,
They slow down time...
Snowflakes, on a black wool glove,
Melting in the sunlight..."


The next picture, which I have deliberately kept till last, was Perseus & Andromeda (1870) by Gustave Moreau:



Moreau is an artist whom I have revered & been fascinated about ever since I first read Joris-Karl Huysmans' novel, A rebours (Against Nature) (1884) many, many moons ago. Moreau's exotic pictures have become an aesthete's & decadent's Bible, & through writers ranging from Huysmans to Camille Paglia with many more in-between, his femme fatales have gained legendary standing & status in my imagination. I've spent hours pouring over books containing some of his most famous works, such as Salome & The Apparition, & this chance encounter with one of his paintings still makes me tingle a little when I think on how it happened. The picture itself was everything I had dreamed a Moreau would be, in the flesh, so to speak. It would be so very easy for a casual viewer to glance at a painting such as this for thirty seconds or so & not notice anything special about it & move on, but fortunately, I am more than aware of how to approach a Symbolist work, & this unspeakable catastrophe was avoided! The gallery was very quiet whilst I was there & for this I am eternally grateful, as you have to take your time & meditate on works of art of this nature. Their gifts are layered, & a furtive glance will not allow the rewards & treasures that they contain to rise into the mind's eye. Time & patience is required, but if you are willing & able to do this, the rewards can be captivating. My first impression was, of course, Andromeda herself, who dominates the composition & Moreau has enriched her with stunning sensuousness. She is chained to a rock & Perseus is just about to shoot the dragon that is coming for her, yet he is most definitely given second billing, as he is only lightly delineated in the sky. The rich, deep shades of red that make up the rocks that are behind Andromeda are magnificent, making it appear that she is leaning on a wall of crushed velvet in a boudoir rather than granite, & her complete lack of fear or interest in the battle that is about to commence behind her are surely indicative of where Moreau's sympathy lies. For me, Moreau has captured, in Andromeda, the complete essence of blooming female beauty & sexuality. The picture inexorably draws your attention to each slightest enchanted detail, from every curve of Andromeda's body to the silver chain that enshrouds her ankle & to me she is essentially a modern heroine in the sense that she has no religious guilt or shame at her wondrous beauty, & is completely self determined, with her arms nonchalantly folded about her whilst she remains seemingly oblivious to either her near nakedness or the fight for her life that is just about to take place. I actually wondered if the dragon & Perseus could be interpreted as two different males fighting over Andromeda (more below), as it doesn't take a great deal of imagination to notice the phallic spear & pointed tail that the two combatants point aggressively at each other. If this is indeed the case, then I think it's fair to say that I admire this picture even more than I did on first impression, because although Andromeda is on the surface merely a sensual being, her disregard of the fighters in the background suggests that she is quite content to be sensual & alluring for her own joy & not for her would-be-suitors or in fact any other male gaze. The way that Moreau has painted her makes it very clear that this is a painting that celebrates female beauty & Andromeda's pose is very similar to how he painted some of his other heroines (i.e., Galatea, Cleopatra), & no doubt he was attempting to convey his ideal vision of the female form as he so obviously cherished & admired it. It is also worth keeping in mind Andromeda's story as told in Ovid's Metamorphoses (8 AD). In this tale, Andromeda has been offered as a sacrifice to the gods because her mother had been boasting that her daughter was more beautiful than any of the nereids, or sea nymphs, which has infuriated the gods, although Andromeda herself has done nothing wrong. Perseus has no knowledge of this when he arrives on the scene & when he sees this young woman tied to the rock with the dragon heading towards her, he is completely captivated by her astonishing beauty & tells her parents that if he saves her life it is on condition that he will then receive her hand in marriage as reward. After receiving affirmation of this request (demand) he proceeds to successfully kill the dragon, but it then transpires that Andromeda had already been promised to her uncle (!), Phineus, who is furious at losing his bride to be & in turn tries to kill Perseus. Perseus finally kills Phineus by using the severed head of the Gorgon Medusa (a woman who is so ugly that she turns anyone who looks directly at her immediately to stone - now there's another blog!) & marries Andromeda, who has been little more than a pawn throughout the entire story. I feel that Moreau attempts to bring an autonomy, however subtle & slight that may be, to Andromeda that she completely lacks in Ovid's tale, & whilst there will no doubt be interpretations that differ greatly from my own, the extraordinary & strangely personal way that I actually came across this picture & the sublime, dream-like effect it had on me can only end with my conclusion being the one that I have just described. Mine may be a biased view, but as Oscar Wilde so enigmatically reported, an unbiased opinion is completely valueless. Perhaps I could do an in depth feminist reading of Perseus & Andromeda at some point & see what I come up with? We shall see...


And so ended my trip to Bristol Art Gallery. It contained many enchanting moments, & I'm still a little bit overcome when I recall the mysterious call & gravitational pull that gently drew me to the two diminutive pictures that were the highlight of my visit in that secluded corner of the French Art Room. And I hope it isn't in bad taste to say so, but if anything, the wonderful art that I saw & particularly Moreau's picture has made my sensitive appreciation of beauty even more subtle, & every night I thank whichever stars it were that brought Lydia & myself together with immense gratitude in my heart, as not only is she the most wonderful human being that I have ever met, but her beguiling beauty surpasses even that of Andromeda in Moreau's picture, & if I had been given a painter's talent, I would paint her sacredly & with adoration, as Dante Gabriel Rossetti painted the women that he was so deeply enchanted with & as did Moreau with Alexandrine Dureux, with whom he had a twenty-five year relationship. And should anyone call me obsessive, which admittedly wouldn't be for the first time, I would remind them that in many of Rossetti's pictures the woman that he loved was often the model for every woman in one single
 painting. We have a print of Rossetti's Dante's Dream (see below) on our wall & all four of the women in the picture look almost exactly the same. Now that's something that I call worthy of Romance!

 My skill, however, & not in any way that I am complaining, is with words & they are the tools by which I attempt to conjure spells, & I just hope that when I write about the glorious wild-eyed, wild-flower that is my extraordinary wife, that if I am able to capture even just a hint of the magnetic magic & wonder that she radiates in such abundance, then I too, in my humble way, will have touched the stars. So...


Until next time, just very softly & with glittering eyes,


I remain,


Your Nocturnal Butterfly.



Stay Beautiful.



Friday, 5 December 2014

Temptation (Part 1)




"There are several good protections against temptation, but the surest is cowardice." - Mark Twain

Temptation (Part 2)

                     
                        "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield                                                to it." - Oscar Wilde


The Bride of the Wind (A Symphony in Red & Green)



"Whether fair wind or foul, this is the Bride of the Wind.


Who is the Bride of the Wind? 


Can she read faultless French? 


What wood does she burn to keep herself warm? 


She keeps herself warm with her intense life, 


her mystery, her poetry. 


She has read nothing, but she has absorbed everything. 


She cannot read. 


Yet the nightingale has seen her, 


sitting on the stone of spring, reading. 


And although she read in silence, 


the animals & the horses listened in admiration." 


- Max Ernst.