BirchLane.net
March 2004
Wednesday 31
Out Like A Lion. Heavy wind and rain this morning (more tomorrow):
Out like a lion. Not a lamb. Where did this saying come from?
March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. Of course, there is the biblical reference; Jesus came as a lamb and will come back as a lion. But let's talk about Nature. According one source:
Like many of our often used and misused adages, its origins are lost in the muddy waters of history. There are two possible sources: one from the weather, at least in temperate regions, and the other from the stars.
The mythical figure of Leo the Lion stalks through the stars of his springtime constellation in this painting by Youngstown State University alumni Joe Tucciarone. For more of his artwork, go to http://members.aol.com/interstell/joe.htmlMost of my sources - "Benet's Reader's Encyclopedia," "The Facts on File Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins," and the venerable "Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable," among others, either don't list the phrase at all or attribute it simply to traditional March weather. After all, the month does mark the division between harsh winter weather and the milder weather of spring.
March was the first month of the new year for the ancient Romans, who named the month after Mars, the god of war. Mars is an interesting deity. He started out as a god of agriculture but changed over time to a more warlike figure under the influence of the Greeks. "Swords to plowshares" went the other way around for the Romans.
The Romans, who were as good at assimilating as they were at conquering, adopted aspects of the religions of the various people they absorbed. The defeated Greeks brought with them art, literature, and scholarship as well as their own ancient gods - including Ares, a god of war and conflict. This assimilation leads to today's confusing dual names for the residents of Mount Olympus: Zeus/Jupiter, Hermes/Mercury, Aphrodite/Venus, and so on.
The connection of March to the stars might go back to the ancient Romans, or perhaps to cultures even older. March begins with the lion - Leo - rising higher and with the lamb - Aries - sinking lower each evening. There's a slight problem with this scenario, however. Aries isn't a placid lamb, but a mighty ram - often linked in mythology to the ram with the golden fleece sought by Jason and the Argonauts.
It could be a case of poetic license, and probably a modern violation instead of ancient. I suspect - and don't quote me on this - that the blustery to mild weather is the first source of the adage and the connection to the stars came much later. (Probably from an astronomy columnist.)
But the connection to Leo as a signaler of warming weather is a very old one. Leo was one of the first of the zodiacal constellations - the 13 figures that mark the ecliptic, or the path of the sun through the sky.
The source of the zodiac is also a mystery, but astronomer-historians have had an easier time tracking its beginnings than I have had in finding the source of the "lion-lamb" adage.
The original zodiacal constellations - Leo, Taurus, and Scorpius - were the first celestial markers. All three contain bright stars and have distinctive shapes, making them easy to spot. This was especially important when ancient stargazers were watching for them to rise just before the sun in the morning.
The three also vaguely look like the animals they represent. Leo's backward question mark and tilted triangle do make a rough outline of the head, mane, and hindquarters of a lion. The bright star Regulus makes the group easy to find.
Taurus' most distinctive features are the "v" shape that forms his face (the stars of the Hyades cluster), the Pleiades star cluster, and the bright star Aldebaran. Scorpius seems to form a lazy "j" or fishhook, and its bright star is Antares (the "anti" Ares or rival to Mars).
The three constellations also signal the seasons. Leo rises to prominence in the spring; Scorpius, in the summer; and Taurus, in the winter. But for the ancient people who developed them, the constellations' heliacal risings - just before the sun - were better signalers of the coming of the seasons. The Pleiades in Taurus rose just before the sun at the time of the spring equinox. Regulus preceded the sun to mark the summer solstice. Antares appeared before the sun at the time of the fall equinox.
Dr. E.C. Krupp, in his work "Beyond the Blue Horizon: Myths & Legends of the Sun, Moon, Stars & Planets," recounts a theory by science historian Willy Hartner - that these three constellations and a fourth, which fell from use, were seasonal markers for the neolithic Sumerians. The ancestors of these peoples, in the fourth millennium B.C., were among the first to develop cities in what is now southern Iraq.
The heliacal risings were important to early agriculture, especially the coming of spring and the time to prepare for planting.
Later astronomer-priests completed the circle of stars to keep closer tabs on the sun when religious matters were tied celestial happenings.
Tuesday 30.
Daniel Martin. Does not the novel begin in a field?
I was walking Daisy. I saw this. Later, my neighbor called, and told me I had not seen him walking his dog recently because he had to put her to sleep.
Monday 29.
The Importance of an Oil Change.
Sunday 28
Love Redeems Grief. This was the title of today's sermon at Edwards Church in Northampton, Massachusetts. I want to quote from the Hebrew Scripture the minister read; it was powerful:
2 Samuel 18: 6-10, 19, 24-33
So the people went out into the field against Israel: and the battle was in the forest of Ephraim. 7And the people of Israel were smitten there before the servants of David, and there was a great slaughter there that day of twenty thousand men. 8For the battle was there spread over the face of all the country; and the forest devoured more people that day than the sword devoured.
9And Absalom chanced to meet the servants of David. And Absalom was riding upon his mule, and the mule went under the thick boughs of a great oak, and his head caught hold of the oak, and he was taken up between heaven and earth; and the mule that was under him went on. 10And a certain man saw it, and told Joab, and said, Behold, I saw Absalom hanging in an oak.
19Then said Ahimaaz the son of Zadok, Let me now run, and bear the king tidings, how that Jehovah hath avenged him of his enemies.
24Now David was sitting between the two gates: and the watchman went up to the roof of the gate unto the wall, and lifted up his eyes, and looked, and, behold, a man running alone. 25And the watchman cried, and told the king. And the king said, If he be alone, there is tidings in his mouth. And he came apace, and drew near. 26And the watchman saw another man running; and the watchman called unto the porter, and said, Behold, [another] man running alone. And the king said, He also bringeth tidings. 27And the watchman said, I think the running of the foremost is like the running of Ahimaaz the son of Zadok. And the king said, He is a good man, and cometh with good tidings.
28And Ahimaaz called, and said unto the king, All is well. And he bowed himself before the king with his face to the earth, and said, Blessed be Jehovah thy God, who hath delivered up the men that lifted up their hand against my lord the king. 29And the king said, Is it well with the young man Absalom? And Ahimaaz answered, When Joab sent the king's servant, even me thy servant, I saw a great tumult, but I knew not what it was. 30And the king said, Turn aside, and stand here. And he turned aside, and stood still.
31And, behold, the Cushite came; and the Cushite said, Tidings for my lord the king; for Jehovah hath avenged thee this day of all them that rose up against thee. 32And the king said unto the Cushite, Is it well with the young man Absalom? And the Cushite answered, The enemies of my lord the king, and all that rise up against thee to do thee hurt, be as that young man is. 33And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!
And then our minister paraphrased this section:
2 Samuel 19: 1-8
1And it was told Joab, Behold, the king weepeth and mourneth for Absalom. 2And the victory that day was turned into mourning unto all the people; for the people heard say that day, The king grieveth for his son. 3And the people gat them by stealth that day into the city, as people that are ashamed steal away when they flee in battle. 4And the king covered his face, and the king cried with a loud voice, O my son Absalom, O Absalom, my son, my son! 5And Joab came into the house to the king, and said, Thou hast shamed this day the faces of all thy servants, who this day have saved thy life, and the lives of thy sons and of thy daughters, and the lives of thy wives, and the lives of thy concubines; 6in that thou lovest them that hate thee, and hatest them that love thee. For thou hast declared this day, that princes and servants are nought unto thee: for this day I perceive, that if Absalom had lived, and all we had died this day, then it had pleased thee well. 7Now therefore arise, go forth, and speak comfortably unto thy servants; for I swear by Jehovah, if thou go not forth, there will not tarry a man with thee this night: and that will be worse unto thee than all the evil that hath befallen thee from thy youth until now. 8Then the king arose, and sat in the gate. And they told unto all the people, saying, Behold, the king is sitting in the gate: and all the people came before the king.
Love redeems grief. Joab told David to go out and be among his people; within a community of love. The minister then talked about Rabbi Harold Kushner who wrote the book "When Do Bad Things Happen To Good People;" asking the question "Why me?" when faced with the terrible illness and death of his son.
The answer, the miracle, did not come from above, but from his community; an outpouring of love from friends and strangers in Natick, Massachusetts: letters, cards, cakes, dinners.
As I sat there listening I was reminded of the out-pouring of love and support I receive from people in the community of Live Journal, where I maintain another website; one which allows people to respond to each and every entry. For example, when I said I was going to stop writing and posting photographs for some time, I received nearly 100 comments from people; people expressing their love for my work and extending their blessings for peace.
your beautiful imagery will be sorely missed - it is always one of the brighter spots of my day!
we will keep your place warm and the welcome ready for your return when you are ready.
whether posting or no, you will - as always - be in my thoughts..
i enjoy reading your journal and looking at your photos very much. will miss you until you are back. :)i will light a candle for your way.
i join in the chorus of well wishes! I will miss your daily input, which brings beauty to my life and makes me think.
As our minister said (quoting St. Peter): Laugh with those who laugh; weep with those who weep. A community of love redeems grief.
When I left church I walked along Main Street and saw this adorable dog. And this photo deserves its own page also:
Saturday 27
The Afternoon Light.
Friday 26
Friday Five. Take my breath away.
1. You have a way of letting me look through your eyes, and take away my breath.
2. I love pulling up my friends list each day, not knowing what new visual reward you will give me.
3. I love how intense in texture a lot of your photos are. Their subjects seem totally tangible!
4. God this is magnificent. It may inspire a poem
5. Oh, Bruce!
Thursday 25
A Garden View. A few years ago, a woman named Tara Dillard e-mailed me; she had discovered BirchLane via Lemonyellow (I miss Heather Anne; she is the inspiration for BirchLane) and she liked visiting here.
Today she shares with us some rather exciting news:
I went for a hike today and found a few photos.
Wednesday 24
The Artist's Space. What is it? Where is it? Today I drove to MASSMoCA.
"All art is a sort of hidden autobiography. The problem of the artist (photographer) is to tell what he knows and feels in such a form that he still, as it were, keeps his secret."
~ Lewis MumfordTuesday 23
Time-Stamped. A few days ago, my friend in France, Jouke, wrote:
OLD est. 22 MARCH 1998 SCHOOL
The dateless format proves very satisfactory. Unless the date's the title, for true commemoration, it's simply the date of the upload and has little or nothing to do with the content of the entry, other than that in more than half of the cases the date of publication still is the date of writing, or at least of finishing the entry's writing. Though corrections may follow (‘within 36 hours’ I used to add), the URL/anchor doesn't change.Wasn't it Jouke who asked just a few short years ago, "Where where you (or what were you doing) On November (20th) twenty years ago?"
And I was able to answer what I was doing that day, and the day before, and the day after.
I suppose there is a sense of freedom not dating a journal entry, to be liberated from time; but, alas, it is time--days, weeks, months, and years that mark our journey.
This photo is dated: I was on my way to pick Daryl up from lacrosse practice; I was early so I stopped at Child's Park in Northampton and took a few photos of the building on its grounds.
The dates here don't always have something specific to do with "the" date, but they more often do and they do not.
Monday 22
The Fall of Pompeii. Interesting to note: today is March twenty-second; twenty-two years separate these two photographs. The first taken in Hoboken, New Jersey; featured as the cover photo for the literary journal Tamarisk, Volume V Number 1, which featured work by Barry Schwabsky (now the editor at ArtForum), Jackson Mac Low, and John Taggart to name just a few.
And this taken recently at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.
I have come to believe they are related. I need to discover how and why. But maybe the only thing that connects these two images is distance. As I wrote many years ago:
- This is a tale of slow progress,
- leading to greater diversity
- of kinds and numbers.
- It is, in important respects, a series of plateaus
- This history is not, as many people assume,
- punctuated by rare and seminal events
- that shift systems from one level to another.
- From teenage innocence to loss of youth.
- Issues for older men and women.
- Memories of history. Oral histories
- provoked by images -- it is both fact and fiction,
- fiction and fact
And a few pages later:
- With scarcely an interruption,
- pharoah succeeded pharoah
- and dynasty followed dynasty
- for nearly 3,000 years before Christ,
- a continuity of government unmatched by any other
- people. To appreciate the grandeur of that achievement
- one needs to imagine the American republic surviving
- until the year 4776.
- Therefore the mystic must rise above conceptual thought.
- Sudden and complete is the experience;
- of this absolute nothing whatever can be postulated
- and the objects become one
- again -- it is an intuitive realization
- and what you behold is your real self.
- To affirm or deny is to limit;
- to limit is to shut out the light of truth.
- It is a wonder
- that it is
- all connected
And a little further along:
- I need a starting point.
- Onward Christian Soldiers
- marching on to war
- with the cross of Jesus
- (we sung this in school in sixth grade).
- If I write it all down maybe I'll find out.
- On the transmission of mind.
- They would toast birthdays and special occasions.
- Being the teaching of Zen Master
- Huang Po as recorded by the scholar
- P'ei Hsiu of the Tang Dynasty.
- Enlightenment is a process which occurs
- in less time than it takes to blink an eye.
Distance as the connecting factor. (to be continued)
Sunday 21
Words From A Totem Animal. I woke up this morning thinking about this photograph; it seems emblematic of my life right now: Is it getting darker? Is it getting lighter? And the W.S. Merwin poem
Words From A Totem Animal Distance
is where we were
but empty of us and ahead of
me lying out in the rushes thinking
even the nights cannot come back to their hill
any time
_______I would rather the wind came from outside
from mountains anywhere
from the stars from other
worlds even as
cold as it is this
ghost of mine passing
through me
_______
I know your silence
and the repetition
like that of a word in the ear of death
teaching
itself
itself
that is the sound of my running
the please
plea that it makes
which you will never hear
oh god of beginnings
immortal
_______I might have been right
not who I am
but alright
among the walls among the reasons
not even waiting
not see
but now I am out in my feet
and they on their way
the old trees jump up again and again
strangers
there are no names for the rivers
for the days for the nights
I am who I am
oh lord cold as the thoughts of birds
and everyone can see me
_______
Caught again and held again
again I am not a blessing
they bring me
names
that would fit anything
they bring them to me
they bring me hope
all day I turn
making ropes
helping
_______My eyes are waiting for me
in the dusk
they are still closed
they have been waiting a long time
and I am feeling my way toward them
_______I am going up stream
taking to the water from time to time
my marks dry off the stones before morning
the dark surface
strokes the night
above its way
There are no stars
there is no grief
I will never arrive
I stumble when I remember how it was
with one foot
one foot still in a name
_______I can turn myself toward the other joys and their lights
but not find them
I can put my words in the mouths
of spirits
but they will not say them
I can run all night and win
and win
_______
Dead leaves crushed grasses fallen limbs
the world is full of prayers
arrived at from
afterwards
a voice full of breaking
heard from afterwards
through all
the length of the night
_______I am never all of me
unto myself
and sometimes I go slowly
knowing that a sound one sound
is following me from world
to world
and that I die each time
before it reaches me
_______When I stop I am alone
at night sometimes it is almost good
as though I were almost there
sometimes then I see there is
in a bush beside me the same question
why are you
on this way
I said I will ask the stars
why are you falling and they answered
which of us
_______I dreamed I had no nails
no hair
I had lost one of the senses
not sure which
the soles peeled from my feet and
drifted away
clouds
It's all one
feet
stay mine
hold the world lightly
_______Stars even you
have been used
but not you
silence
blessing
calling me when I am lost
_______Maybe I will come
to where I am one
and find
I have been waiting there
as a new
years finds the song of the nuthatch
_______Send me out into another life
lord because this one is growing faint
I do not think it goes all the way~from "The Carrier of Ladders" (1967)
Today is the birthday of Johann Sebastian Bach.
In his honor, I might, entitle all these shots of the butterfly bush, "The Goldberg Variations," and turn them all into a small magazine.
I am listening to these now as I write: Glenn Gould Live in Salzburg & Moscow (1957).
Saturday 20
Spring. Cold and gray and windy.
I can't find Spring today.
Friday 19
Recent Comments. But first the Butterfly Bush at three-thirty; I am really enjoying looking at her throughout the day and observing the way the light changes her appearance:
you know they say the eye is the window to the soul, I think maybe not just the eye but maybe also the way the eye sees the world. when viewing the world through your art I see glimpses of your soul, and it is indeed very beautiful, oft times stunning.
the dead branch that doesn't make me think of death but instead inspires me, makes me see life as a cycle, as a dance between action and decay.Late yesterday afternoon; I think I will never tire of the butterfly bush: looking at it is akin to meditation.
And today at three-thirty:
Driving home from a job interview this afternoon, I made a u-turn so I could take this:
Thursday 18
Yesterday and Today. Every time I look out the window, the butterfly bush changes. Here she is at two-ten yesterday afternoon:
And a few short five minutes later at two-fifteen:
In Ludlow, Massachusetts, while I waited for Daryl as her took his soccer ref exam late yesterday afternoon, I explored the town for a bit and found these two interesting spots:
Wednesday 17
Is this true? A friend writes this morning:
You have enriched my vision the most, in the gentlest, softest, least intrusive way. It has been like a prolonged master class (in photography).
Snow last night; this morning at seven-ten:
In The Art of Peace, Morihei Ueshiba (the founder of Aikido) says that inner bakemono (demons and ghosts) are hardest to battle because there is no sword to take up against them.
Things change; at nine-forty:
TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
[W.B. Yeats, 1921]I saw a beautiful book of Walker Evans photos the other day; I had forgotten, to be quite frank, what a master he was--and how much I have always been inspired by him (His friends included James Agee, Hart Crane and Lincoln Kirstein.). I am sure he would have stopped today to take a photo here as I did (I need a haircut and "John's" is closed on Monday and Wednesday!).
And maybe this:
Tuesday 16
Cosmos.
A fiend told me yesterday she might know a publisher interested in publishing a book of these photos.
Monday 15
....
Sunday 14
Continued: People and Awakenings.
Saturday 13
People. Working from home I don't often have the opportunity to photograph people as I did years previously.
Friday 12
Not the Same. The butterfly bush changes from moment to moment. And, so, too, the landscape:
Thursday 11
An Awakening. I was looking at the book, "Diane Arbus, Magazine Work," (and a few photographer's websites) last night and today I want to spend some time looking at a few of my photographs (nature, New York City, portraits, journalism) and make a few observations. We can take any random images and I think still draw the same conclusions. A short slide show:
Random images from file folders: nature, newyorkcity, portraits. A conclusion: my work is damn good.
What needs to happen:
- Redesign Gallery Index Page
- Redo Gallery Links
- Write Sales & Marketing Plan
- Advertise
- Everything Is Marketing and Marketing Is Everything
- Get Published
- Get Exhibited
Another point: it was advertising that first triggered the growth in my confidence; I had (and have) been visiting various other sites where photographers advertise and charge a fair amount for their work ($400 for an 10 x 12 and $600 for a 14 X 20) and my work compares favorably to most of them---if it is not better; for I find a lot of work I see without heart, cold, and rather banal, mundane; page through the advertisements in B&W Magazine and one name could be exchanged for any other.
A few years ago a stranger wrote to me:
Browsing your (website) is like walking thru a museum and watching a documentary on the history of photography at the same time.
Low light, a glass of wine and soft piano music in the background... these are the conditions in which I (like) to view your gallery.
Simple photos: no extravagant angles, not fancy manipulation, no blowout colors and contrasts. Just moments in time magnificently capture in one frame of film. Just moments that once were and now are gone, but oh, how much they say to us. They are but just one frame of millions that compose our lives, our history and our culture. And some how you manage to capture a whole life, a complete story in history and those details that defines us as a society in just that one frame.
Art is everything we do, from our first kiss, to our first son, to our last good bye… but you have managed to make art your life itself.And there is the color image below and the Exhibition photos to ponder.
Wednesday 10
Waiting. Beauty found in the dead butterfly bush out my window; maybe I will find a photograph with her everyday until it is time to prune.
Devote yourself to the utmost Void;
Contemplate earnestly in Quiescence.
All things are together in action,
But I look into their non-action.
For things are continuously moving, restless,
Yet each is proceeding back to its origin.
Proceeding back to the origin mean Quiescence.
To be in Quiescence is to see "being-for-itself."
~Lao Tzu
I have taken many photographs of a dead Birch tree in our backyard, but I still have not captured what I think I see; a ghost alone in the woods. I don't really want a tight shot as this but something from a distance--she standing alone as a sentinel in the woods; maybe the light will be right on a dark and rainy day: I will run out with my umbrella and tripod. This is a test shot:
Tuesday 09
This Morning at Birch Lane. Spring pushes her way out from mother earth.
Monday 08
Snow. A dusting this morning;
Two hours later:
On Saturday, at my brother's house, at our birthday party, I gave my niece, Sara, two photos of her from when she was a child. Here she is now.
Sunday 07
Old I Am As The Day I Was Born. Ah, but not yet ready to throw in the towel!!!
Some gifts I received today: from ravengirl
a most happy birthday to my friend
a kind and talented soul
his photographs are often stunning
and always thoughtful~
one of the best visual composers i know online
it is my pleasure to know him~
a kind and talented soul
his photographs are often stunning
and always thoughtful~
one of the best visual composers i know online
it is my pleasure to know him~From Jill, a cake and a poem:
by Li-Young Lee, which easily makes me think of you.
Nativity
In the dark, a child might ask, What is the World?
just to hear his sister
promise, An unfinished wing of heaven,
just to hear his brother say,
A house inside a house,
but most of all to hear his mother answer,
One more song, then you go to sleep.
How could anyone in that bed guess
the question finds its beginning
in the answer long growing
inside the one who asked, that restless boy,
the night's darling?
Later, a man lying awake,
he might ask it again,
just to hear the silence
charge him, This night
arching over your sleepless wondering,
this night, the near ground
every reaching-out-to overreaches,
just to remind himself
out of what little earth and duration,
out of what immense good-bye,
each must make a safe place of his heart,
before so strange and wild a guest
as God approaches.From Andala, two photographs:
Saturday 06
A Passage of Time. This from a book publishing party years ago in NYC.
Friday 05
The Phone Interview. I think it went well.
Beforehand I was quite nervous; I took a few photos to calm my nerves.
Daryl after a long and tiring day at high school.
Thursday 04
The Colony. A new photo and an old photo; she was inside the store: this was years ago. I must have once been so bold. There was something about her. I saw her in the Colony record store years ago. Famous for its sheet music collection and records, the Colony still stands on the corner of Broadway and 49th Street in New York City on the ground floor of the Brill Building. I think I am haunted by this photo; in a good way: I often think of it. When I saw her I thought she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen and I walked over to her and said so and asked if I could take a few photos of her. There is something about her.
Wednesday 03
Learning to Crawl. I made a movie yesterday; still photos.
Two sections.
Tuesday 02
Jacob's Pillow. Before I left for Jacob's Pillow in Lee, Massachusetts this morning, I saw these feathers out on the front lawn, below a pine tree.
A small sign read "restaurant closed. bar open."
Monday 01
Non destare il cane che dorme.
