pre November 2018
The Snow: (Track 2)
Is there anything whiter than a blanket of fresh fallen snow? Has it not at one time or another by its sheer brilliance, caused one to pause to take in this stunning display of natural creation? A wonderland? "Your mileage may vary" on this of course, depending on location, climate and life experience. Am I being a bit hokey here? You bet. But I'm hardly alone in this sentiment. Much has been written about an ethereal quality that the arrival of a snowfall seems to hold. For the very young and very old and in between.
While it can seem to appear suddenly, it of course builds one pristine flake at a time, each in dainty descent. Which Frost takes note of in his classic poem Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.
A woods in such a state, Wordsworth also knew well.
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
I, no Frost, nor worth my words, who wouldn't be caught dead in the woods at any time of day or night, once noted within my own mileau...
Echoing something similarly felt by Truman Capote long ago (American Fantastic Tales: Terror and the Uncanny from the 1940’s Until Now).
"It snowed all week. Wheels and footsteps moved soundlessly on the street, as if the business of living continued secretly behind a pale but impenetrable curtain. In the falling quiet there was no sky or earth, only snow lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the city."
Enter Christmas, now a few weeks away, to add some bitter-sweetness to the proceedings. And while Christmas has become increasingly secular, and has been enfolded into the more generic greeting of "Happy Holidays," the connection between Christmas and snow remain inseparable.
The White Album
Borrowing the unofficial title of the Beatles classic album of 54 years ago, this month's is
"playing" various arrangements of the color white. Nine "tracks" in word and illustration. All self explanatory (save perhaps the last). As for the obsession with this theme? There is no real explanation. To paraphrase what a man of some renown once offered in his defense..."The mind wants what it wants."
White Christmas: (Track 3)
Charles Dickens is often credited with having seeded the association of the Christmas season with snow, by way of A Christmas Carol, published in 1843. Perhaps in remembrance of some of the coldest winters on record that he experienced as a child. Which included six white Christmases in the first nine years in a life which began in 1812. But in reality, he was hardly the first author to write of snow at Christmas. No matter. Mythologies and folklore tend to have greater purchase than fact. So by Dickens it is.
Actually, the odds of experiencing a white Christmas with snow falling on that very day or the eve of, tend to be remote, even in more climate appropriate places. (They actually have formal betting on this in the U.K.) None is expected here in New York City this Christmas. Still I muse on such an occurrence for a while, after hearing Bing Crosby recently crooning... I'm dreaming of a white Christmas/just like the one I used to know. Forever and again.
Every Christmas season since he first sang it in the movie "Holiday Inn" in 1942 at the outset of our entering WWII, (sometimes mistakenly assumed, the song's introduction was in the movie White Christmas in 1954), it wafts in from somewhere. And maybe at one time or another, even from within our own home. (Fess up) Intoned in that key of Longing as only Bing can.
There's a Scottish word for this that I once featured in a MuseLetter--- hiraeth. For which there is no direct English translation. Roughly, it is about "a homesickness, longing, yearning for a home you can't ever return to. Because it no longer exists or maybe never was."
And all this could be precipitated by a song consisting of just nine lines within two stanzas, written by Irving Berlin (Israel Berlein, of Jewish descent), in remembrance of snow past? A whiteness in longing? Which can still stick though details go adrift. As Dylan Thomas once alluded to in the opening of his classic short narrative.
Then of course there’s that fantasy of a mouseless eve in Clement Clarke Moore's cherished, A Visit from St. Nicholas. While it features the doings of a guy with a “beard as white as snow” (and let's not imagine the excretions of nine reindeer on the villages below on the way over), there is a moment where the poem’s narrator pauses for a moment to take note of how...
I cannot recall off the top of my head, a personal white Christmas. Snowfalls that closed down schools are the stuff of fondest memories where snow is concerned. Followed by the making of snowballs and firing them at each other with intent to maim. The sheer whiteness of these missiles was lost on us. The impact of snow was literal. As life tends to be in the formative years. The figurative comes in later when memories, like the snow, begin to melt. And in turn become slush? To be replaced with fanciful narratives. When one might pause to consider something so seemingly benign as snow. When the absence of daily colors and the sound of silence become one.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good white!
As if to encapsulate and punctuate the "good white" explored in the trifecta of "tracks" above, this back cover ad from a recent issue of The New Yorker. appeared in my mail box right on cue.
White Word of the Month: (Track 4)
White as a color (or absence thereof?), is the holder of many meanings, reference points, symbols and metaphors within literature, poetry and The Culture. From the sublime to the subliminal to the ridiculous. The exercise here in free association, offers a glimpse into this expanse. Especially in the subtle, and not so subtle ways, the color has acted as shorthand for the traditional American view of what is wholesome.
The science of white, as when say it takes on the form of light and does magical things, like create a rainbow... is for another season. For now, winter approaches. A winter, hopefully, of our content.
The Color: (Track 1)
This past summer while reading Herman Melville's classic, "Moby Dick," I was stopped by a chapter (The Whiteness of the Whale), wholly devoted to the color white. Both in its positive and negative connotations. With emphasis on the latter. Seen through eyes of the novel’s narrator and protagonist, Ishmael.
The book, after all, is about a WHITE whale. A rather large one at that. So this particular color (and again, or absence of), can’t help but come to the forefront in a way that one might never otherwise stop to consider it. Although, does one ever stop to consider any color in the overall scheme of things? Especially white. So bland? So minimalist? So sterile? Some would say, so boring? And if not for a large beached whale on my summer reading list, would it have stirred any of my thoughts on it? Or "musings," as this site would have it?
The positive associations are rather obvious. White usually connotes purity, freshness, cleanliness, simplicity.... Though not that simple in hue, given that there are over 150 shades of it according to the merchants of paint, with their “eye test” of swatch cards. But here, we're talking "snow white."
Ishmal states at the beginning of the "white chapter," that “To analyze it would seem impossible.” Yet, offhandedly he adds, ”Let us try.”
He starts out with a what we'll call the "good white." I will quote him rather extensively, as his observations are unique in some ways, beautifully written in others, and oft waxing poetic. In no chronological order, here's some of the more salient ones. Interspersed with some personal commentary.
“...in many natural objects, whiteness refiningly enhances beauty as if imparting some special virtues of its own, as in marbles, japonicas and pearls; “
“...various nations have in some way recognized certain royal pre-eminence in its hue;..white robes are given to the redeemed...elders stand clothed in white before the great white throne.”
"...the innocence of brides..."
Though a haiku I once wrote in traditional 5-7-5 syllabic form, then pictured and posted, suggests an indulgence along with that innocence?
He goes on to extol...
"...the benignity of age;”
Which is not without its own beauty I might add.
“in the higher mysteries of the most august religions it has been made the symbol of divine spotlessness and power;”
Like the blinding white suit I wore at my First Holy Communion and Confirmation rites? (Its spotlessness owing to the Chinese dry cleaners around the corner, rather than that of a divine power).
He goes on to list many more examples. Some of a highly esoteric nature to which he makes obscure reference. ("Whitsuntide marshal"?) But the point has been made. Then switching gears, he turns to that of a more chilling nature. What we'll call the "bad white." And he goes to the heart of that which he finds so disturbing.
“It was the whiteness of the whale that above all things appalled me.”
That whiteness could ever be appalling? But he makes his case.
“...there yet lurks an elusive something in the innermost idea of this hue, which strikes more of the soul than the redress which affrights in blood.”
“...when divorced from more kindly associations, and coupled with any object to heighten that terror to the to the furthest bounds... the white shark, the white gliding ghostliness of response in that creature..."
(Insert theme from Jaws here)
“Bethink thee of the albatrose; whence come those clouds of spiritual wonderment and pale dread.”
Hast thou not bethought the grossness in gray? Consider the New York City pigeon!
“...the one visible quality in the aspect of the dead which most appalls the gazer, is the marble pallor lingering there.
Aye. In many cultures, white is symbolically linked to death and sadness. Often a color used in funerals and other rituals of mourning. And he more or less sums it up...
“...in essence whiteness is not so much color as the visible absence of color, and at the same time the concrete of all colors; is it for these reasons that there is such a dumb blankness, full of meaning, in a wide landscape of snows...”
Following this last point, my thoughts turned towards snow. And casting any "dumb blankness" aside, I dove
headlong into it.
A Cento of White and Snow: (Track 5)
Joanna C. Migdal is a published poet who specializes in a poetry genre called cento (from the Latin meaning literally “patchwork”).
Its creation comes about by taking one or two lines from a number of existing poems, (and sometimes other writing sources), and arranging them in a way so as to construct a new poem. Usually a narrative of sorts, with an underlying theme. At its conclusion (of a minimum of ten lines), it is customary to provide a footnote on the sources that went into its making.
I knew Joanna had previously written a cento that could be in concert with this "White Album." And she gave permission to include it. Constructed from the lines of thirteen poets, it begins with an epigraph by Sylvia Plath. Therefore, no surprise that in regards to an exploration of "white," this poem was likely to come at it from a different place. Certainly not one that Bing Crosby would ever recognize, much less croon about it.
Imagine All the People
Playing All White Pieces: (Track 8)
Which is what Yoko Ono did in 1966, with her conceptual work of art, "Play It By Trust." Aka, White Chess Set. Which was first presented at a gallery in London, and since has appeared in many museums and at various events around the world including twice at the Museum of Modern Art here in New York. The most recent being in 2015 which is when I first saw it. (June 2015 MuseLetter, Oh No, It's Ono).
It is the use of white in a dramtic way. As white can be when it stands alone absent any other surrounding color. As we see with snow. Especially poignant here where the game of chess is involved. Game? Bobby Fischer described it this way: “Chess is a war over the board. The object is to crush the opponent’s mind.” But what if there was no distinction between the armies and the battlefield?
While this white chess set (and note Yoko's cool white hat, by the way), can be interpreted in various ways--- which abstract and conceptual art often are---the best review that I've seen that seems spot on reads:
"This aspect of the work suggests Ono’s anti-war stance—an ideology that permeates much of her oeuvre. The artist’s subtle modifications to the game of chess—traditionally considered a war game—fundamentally alter the goals of playing; instead of working against one another as if in battle, players must work together to effect conditions of peace."
Sarah Kennedy, Associate Educator, Public and Studio Programs, at MoMA
You don't know who is who after a while. Or whose side are you on? And are there sides? The very point. It's
Yoko at her Ono-est. A thinking far out of the box.
The stunning whiteness as it relates to chess was also illustrated not long ago in the hit mini-series "Queen's Gambit." Though the antithesis of "Yoko-white," it aims to conquer.
It concludes with a scene, in which the protagonist Beth Harman (Anya Taylor-Joy), having just become World Chess Champion, is attired so as to suggest the powerful White Queen, as she walks the streets of Moscow. A winning of the Cold War once more? (White knight need not apply).
White Space (Track 9)
Behold the White Picket Fence: (Track 7)
An icon of Americana, it has long symbolized the ideal middle-class suburban life; a family and children, a large house, peaceful living and a sense of safety and security. Enclosed by a white picket fence. A shorthand for "the good life." Away from the urban ills and all that that implies. And its been around since New World colonists needed to mark their boundaries and perhaps defend their land. When there was no urban from which to suburban to.
Would a fence of pickets (from piquet, French for “pointed stick or board”) by any other paint not be as potent? No. For a fence without white would not quite read "wealth and privilege." A sign of cleanliness and maintenance, as if to proclaim, We are responsible people. Perhaps a harkening back to a kinder gentler nation where father knew best and we left it to Beaver. And those fences are very much a part of the American landscape till this day.
Yet, not all see the white picket fence as something virtuous; something to aspire to having one day (with a house behind it of course). What might lie beneath those fences and what they represent, is disturbing to some. David Lynch, for example, being one such agnostic. In the opening of his film Blue Velvet, we see a white picket fence slowly rising up against a pure blue sky. Just another typical day in suburbia.
But soon enough, a college student (Kyle MacLachlan) comes upon a severed ear in a vacant lot. And it gets pretty dicey from there. White as a symbol, begins "changing colors." Bad white again. Herman Melville would have loved this film. He and Lynch were on the same page. What is beautiful on the surface can have a dark side beneath. Although, to paraphrase Freud...sometimes a white picket fence, is just a white picket fence.
Parts of the site under reconstruction
Featuring...
muse-letter \’myüz-‘le-tər noun
1: a personal message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation, addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought, especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.
2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy, usually in some ironic or absurd way.
SNOWED IN (a cento)
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed in. Sylvia Plath, “tulips”
A late snow beats with cold white fists upon the tenements
Beyond the window pane the world is white
white as those infinite blank pages placed on my writing stand.
The winter evening settles down.
The snow carefully everywhere descending.
I stare blankly at a world bereft of color.
The wet snow falls. It muffles sounds and colors
snow banking the door.
White silence fills the contours of my life in the unforgiving whiteness of the room.
Only in the bedroom, a candle shows an indifferent yellow flame.
It flickers cold, stingy, not promising anything.
It will not last the night.
Acknowledgements: Lola Ridge, Delmore Schwartz, Anna Akhmatova, TS Eliot, ee cummings,
Princess Shashiki, Adam Zagajewski, Sara Teasdale, Virginia Hamilton Adair, Anna Akhmatova,
Bella Akhmadulina, Edna St. Vincent Millay
A Few White Cues
for Heroics and Protection: (Track 6)
When white has been addressed in a positive light here, it has been done more or less, in an ethereal way. As in something delicate, exquisite, dainty, graceful, beautiful, lovely. Along with a lot of snow. But there are also heroics and a sense of safety associated with it, that get expressed in metaphors or as cues. In some cases, adding a new meaning. Though often now, in irony, or pejoratively.
Take a white knight. Please. Especially one "in shinning armor." A hero, a savior, an individual who comes on the scene at the eleventh hour to save the day. In times gone by, most especially in fantasy, to rescue a damsel in distress. Often in the persona, not literally that of a white knight, but a prince. With his only armor being one of charisma. Who might wind up wearing white at some point or another to emphasize his triumph and heroics; his loving reward. Living happily ever after. Especially prominent in the world of Disney. And whether we approve or not, Disney's impact on the culture has always been significant. A purveyor of how our world ought to be in terms of gallantry and heroics; love and romance. Though not without controversy in retrospect. Especially, currently, in what is now derisively called "cancel culture."
Though they finally put a stop to this need to be saved by a "white knight," which began in 1937 with Snow White being brought back from the dead with a kiss, and hauled off on a white horse. In 2014 came a great departure, via a tale in which two sisters, Anna and Queen Elsa, realize their love for each other is the truest love. Who needs a man? Though you can't do without all that whiteness can you, in a movie titled...
In modern usage, a white knight has also come to mean "a person or corporation that saves another company from a hostile takeover and acquires its assets." How romantic. Or another meaning... simply one who champions a cause. Yet it has come to be used in an unfavorable light. It implies weakness. As in the fantastical expectation of a white knight to come to make everything alright. And the white knight role itself is nothing to aspire to either. There's something called Damsel in Distress Syndrome. "Where you feel compelled to 'rescue' your partner, often at your own expense.” (Frankly, my dear, I do give a damn!)
The "wild west" too had been the stuff of simplistic tales of good prevailing over evil. The metaphor emerging from a cowboy's struggle was not a white knight, but a white hat. As in, the good guys wore white hats...the bad guys, black ones.
It began with the birth of the movies. Later, galloping into our living rooms by way of the TV, came this posse of white hats. They were here to uphold truth and justice, and to make sure the homestead was kept safe for women and children. And if the moment called for shooting a "black hat" down, then so be it. But always, face to face. The American Way. In time, what was intended to be subliminal, became noticeable and fodder for satire and ridicule. Though of a gentler kind.
Some rode a white horse as well. In that Hermes ad above, it made an appearance to signify elegance and beauty. A similar role played in the final scene in Snow White (also shown previously). But a horse of that color, is considered special in other ways as well. It appears in mythologies and certain religions. And long before the white hats came along, a white horse was heroic. Sometimes even sprouting wings, and becoming a god. Pegasus, if you're up your Greek mythology.
But even he would have a tough time beating a dynamic duo of White Horse AND White Hat, in a west that was wilder than the Trojan War.
“A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty ‘Hi yo, Silver,’ ”The Lone Ranger rides again.
With his faithful Indian companion Tonto, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early western United States. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. Out of the past come the thundering hoofbeats of the great horse Silver. The Lone Ranger rides again."
Sidebar: As if riding a white horse while wearing a white hat were not enough cues, there was the white handle on his six-shooter which shot those silver bullets that adorned his belt. Veritably screaming out, Good Guy! Hero! And with a laced, fitted, powder-blue shirt, designer mask and red kerchief--- a real fashionista! Perhaps the first metrosexual?
muse-letter \’myüz-‘le-tər noun
1: a personal message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation, addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought, especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.
2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy, usually in some ironic or absurd way.
pre November 2018
Parts of the site under reconstruction
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