Passing Through Blue– At West End Gallery
This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
At this still hour the self-collected soul
Turns inward, and beholds a stranger there
Of high descent, and more than mortal rank;
An embryo God; a spark of fire divine.
—A Summer’s Evening Meditation, Anna Laetitia Barbauld (1743-1825)
I had come across the short verse, taken from a much longer 1773 poem, above a few months ago and set it aside with the intent of using it in a blogpost at some point. I wasn’t sure how to use it or if what I was reading in it was the intent of the poet.
This raised a whole bunch of questions, beginning with: Does the author’s intent matter in what I was seeing in her words? Or does what I see in one of my paintings matter in how others see it? Is someone’s else interpretation of it equally valid even if it differs greatly from my own?
Some tough ones there.
I often use quotes and short passages from literature to initiate a post. While I try to discover their original context and meaning and adhere somewhat to it with my use, I take liberties in my interpretation. I may read something into them that was not part of the original intent, just like you may look at a painting of mine and see something that speaks something to you that is different from or beyond what I saw in it. Something that speaks in a personal language that only you know, something drawn from your own life experiences and sensations.
I think it’s all appropriate so long as the differing interpretation is not employed as justification for anything harmful or denigrating to others. I worry sometimes about that, more so with the writing here than with my painting. Sometimes, in trying to not be too specific on a subject, I recognize the rhetoric of what I have written might be equally applied by those who have a viewpoint that is in complete opposition to what I meant. For example, the definitions of freedom or revolution I write about might not be the same as someone else.
And the vice versa applies here. I check for the original meaning and context because many years ago I used a quote without checking. It’s been long enough that I can’t remember the subject of the quote or from where it came. Whatever it was, it seemed to serve what I wanted to say. I later found out from a reader that its original meaning was the complete antithesis of what I read into it and was trying to convey in the post, that it came from a person associated with hate groups and was meant to advocate some form of white supremacy.
I was mortified and deleted the post immediately. Since then, I try to find the context of anything I use.
But for the most part, the meaning and purpose one takes from a piece of writing, music, or art is theirs alone. I have often told the story of a lady approaching me at an opening. We stood before a painting of mine that was simple composition, sections of two tree trunks that intertwined around each other as they bisected the painting’s surface from bottom to top. I saw in it a certain human sensuality, one that spoke about how we depend on the assistance and affection of others. She hated the painting and let me know that she saw nothing but the subjugation of women and male dominance in it.
I was stunned. I didn’t see anything like that in that piece before she spoke. I saw it after even if it still didn’t register fully in the way she saw it. But I could see what she was seeing.
I didn’t try to tear down her viewpoint or justify my own. No matter how hard I might try to assure her that it was never intended that way, what she saw was what she saw. Her reading of it was as valid as my own. And I let her know that.
And I guess that’s the way it should be, in most cases. You do what you do, you try to express what you are as a human in a way that you hope comes across clearly to others and that whatever you do, it doesn’t harm or be used to harm others. For the most part, it works out okay. Sometimes, it doesn’t.
You just hope you’re not too badly misunderstood. Or worse than that, not heard at all.
Here’s song on that subject. It’s a fine interpretation of a favorite Animals‘ song, Please Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood from Cyndi Lauper. Good stuff.
At least, that’s the way I see it…
Redtree Times 