Seemingly Abandoned Places in the Mind

I’ve searched high and low for something else to blog about this week and couldn’t find anything other than what’s really arrested my attention, a video (now almost a year old) that came across my radar only recently. I’m speaking of Hozier’s “Movement” video, starring Ukrainian ballet dancer Sergei Polunin, directed by Christopher Barrett and Luke Taylor. Occasionally, I get interested in something to the point that I end up studying it closely; this week, I’ve almost felt I was in film school, so many times have I pored over this short film, scene by scene.

I first heard the song, an ardent expression of sexual love, at Starbucks, and liked the music and Hozier’s passionate performance without really hearing all of the lyrics. When I found the video online, my initial reaction was, “This is an unforgettable performance, and some of the scenes really resonate with me in a strange way, though I don’t know why.” (The film itself is sensual but not explicit.) Mr. Polunin is the only actor in the film, appearing as three (no, make that four) different characters. 

The ballet sequences are extraordinary for their sheer physicality and expressiveness, and Mr. Polunin also has a remarkable ability to convey emotion even when he isn’t dancing. I’ve never seen a more mesmerizing performance by a male dancer. If you think of male ballet dance performance as sissified, this video will knock that idea entirely out of your head forever. While I recognize some classical technique in the video, there seems to be a mix of styles in the performance. (Bouncing off the walls, literally, isn’t something I’ve often seen in ballet.)

At the beginning, Mr. Polunin’s character, dressed in street clothes, appears to be having an internal debate of some kind and seems both troubled and weary. He gets out of the van he’s sitting in and walks up the steps to an abandoned industrial building. As he pauses on the threshold, another Mr. Polunin (seemingly out of nowhere) emerges from the van behind him, from the opposite door. The second character, in torn clothes and showing signs of some barely suppressed but strong emotion, follows the first character into the building. What follows is a series of solos, duets, and group performances as the characters dance their way through the building from the ground floor to the roof.

The first character appears most interested in dancing solo and at times seems unaware of the presence of any other characters. I related to the first character as someone absorbed in creating or expressing himself without reference to what anyone else is doing. His relationship to the second character is difficult to gauge; at times they dance in tandem, but the overall impression one gets is that the first character is continually moving away from the second one, while at the same time dealing with some strong, unresolved emotion concerning his presence. The second character is almost hungrily appreciative of the first character while also seeming angry; the first character continually runs away while seeming at times to be waiting for the second character to appear.

But then who is the strange, almost ethereal figure in white who appears in the second half of the video, seemingly anticipating the arrival of Character 1 while erecting a barrier between them? Why are there two Character 1s in the same scene, one dancing, and one sitting almost unnoticed against a pillar in the foreground? Why is Character 2 continually stumbling, recovering, and hitting the wall? Why does Character 1 suddenly seem fearful while fleeing to the roof in the final sequence, with Character 2 in hot pursuit? And if he is fearful, why does he, at the last, stand with his back to the other character, seemingly unconcerned as the latter approaches him at high speed with his hand outstretched?

You know enough by now to realize that I cannot answer these questions definitively and that there is likely a lot of layering going on. I think I saw myself in all of the characters at one time or another and possibly you would, too. My general feeling is that Character 2 feels a passion for Character 1 that is being both encouraged and rebuffed, which explains 2’s somewhat haggard appearance. He appears at one point in a doorway, not quite patient but certainly in command of himself and expectant, only to have Character 1 slip by him once more. 

The dreamlike quality of this video doesn’t lend itself to a clear, linear explanation. From a depth perspective, I can see all of the characters as different aspects of a single person, the ego, the id (the hungrily pursuing Character 2 who obviously thinks it’s time to come out to play), and the superego, the third figure. Perhaps what appears to be a duplicate of Character 1 is actually the Self, the fourth factor that completes the personality, although he does not appear to be altogether down with everything transpiring behind him.

I encourage you to watch the video and see for yourself. As a piece of visual, musical, dramatic, and dance art, it’s spectacular; as a type of shadow play depicting the workings of the unconscious, it’s eerily on point (or en pointe, maybe); and as a story of passion and sexual tension, it’s spellbinding. Character 2’s appearance in the doorway with all his tattoos on display as he watches and waits is the central image of the film around which all else is built. Character 1 seems to be leaving him behind after that, and yet the final scene on the roof tells a different story. While seemingly in a reverie, Character 1 has allowed Character 2 to erase almost all the distance between them. What will happen when Character 2 touches him with his outstretched hand?

Jimmy Stewart’s Come Hither Look

I tried to resist it—I really did. Yesterday, I saw another sexy planet, this time on CNN’s website, a beautiful purple Neptune-like exoplanet. I don’t even know where in the universe it is, but, wow, what a stunner. However, in my attempts to live a balanced life and not fall under the sway of just any importuning god or goddess that beckons, I resolutely closed that CNN window and looked for something else to post. This morning, though, I was still thinking about that beautiful planet and just knew somehow that I’d find enough purple desserts to make anyone weak in the knees if I spent a few minutes looking. Sure enough, purple is an unforgettably gorgeous and dramatic dessert color. It turns out that there are plenty of purple cakes, purple pies, purple macarons, and purple ice creams . . .  And all of them are lookers. My goodness me—who knew?

I’m not sure I can analyze the reasons purple is so devastating in this regard, and I don’t really want to. It should be used more often in cooking, in my opinion, but maybe it wouldn’t have as much impact if it wasn’t so unexpected. Purple is very close to blue on the color spectrum, and both are surprisingly mouth-watering when used in certain ways with food. My mini-photo essay on the sexy Neptune-like planet and a train of accompanying desserts can be found on Wordplay’s Facebook page. There were many other photos I could have included, but you’ll see that for yourself if you go out looking for them.

Eros is really getting to be a problem here on Wordplay, but I haven’t paid Aphrodite her due in a while, and everyone who knows anything about mythology knows how mad that makes her and the lengths she’ll go to when she feels neglected. She’s getting her revenge on me now. Once you open yourself up to it, you start to notice just how beautiful the world is every day, in many ways, despite the ugliness we all have to deal with. Eros is always thrumming along in and behind things, but if you ignore it, it stops paying court to you. I came across a photo of actor Jimmy Stewart on the Internet a few weeks ago, and while I always liked him, I never thought of him as sexy. But suddenly, after a couple of weeks of these erotic planets and Aphrodite-induced dessert binges, I started realizing just how handsome he is in that picture, and it’s just a subtle thing, really, something in his eyes and his smile.

I’m including the picture here, and you’re welcome to agree with me or to disagree about Mr. Stewart’s charms, but if you can withstand the sight of a bunch of artfully scattered pink and purple macarons with flower petals against a dark background, you’re a better person than I am.

Jimmy Stewart. Photo courtesy of Sotheby’s International Realty/Getty Images

Deconstructing Banana Pudding

For a topic this week, it would probably be difficult to beat Wordplay’s National Dessert Day tutorial on apples, banana pudding, chocolates, and other topics, posted today on the Wordplay Facebook page, complete with photos. Therefore, I won’t try. I thought I’d said all I needed to on desserts, Aphrodite, etc. last week, but when I found out what day it was today, I just had to seize the opportunity. (And really, can you ever get tired of looking at pictures of desserts? Probably not.)

I guess I was also trying to make a point about the impossibility of putting life experiences into separate silos and the lack of neat boundaries between categories of knowledge, experience, etc. If you’re reading this page for the first time, that may sound pretty far removed from National Dessert Day, but if you think in terms of mythology, depth psychology, and layers of meaning, it’s really not. I’m a librarian, too, and while I semi-enjoyed the cataloging class I took in school—which taught us how to organize and classify areas of knowledge—I saw even then that some subjects just don’t fit into a single slot. Some librarians might argue that they actually do if you’re doing cataloging the right way, but I don’t agree. There’s too much overlap between subjects.

I have a fairly strong teacherly instinct, which I’m sure annoys a lot of people (at least, it seemed to in the past), but I have realized that I take a lot of pains to explain things because I have spent so much of my life feeling misunderstood. I don’t mean to make that sound tragic; it’s just a fact that I often felt my experiences were not like those of other people, and that people really didn’t understand my jokes, my references, or even my real feelings about things. I was not always the forthcoming person I am on this blog, and I really was one of those young people I was talking about a few weeks ago who lacked communication skills. Through much of my life, I had a hard time speaking up for myself in person (though never in writing). Actually, what someone said to me once turned out to be true, and that is that you gain greater confidence in yourself by doing. I’m much better at talking now than I used to be.

So I tend to favor clearness in communication, but it’s also true that no matter how clear you try to be, some people will never understand you because they are seeing you through the filter of their own experiences. I don’t like misunderstandings, but they are unavoidable at times, so sometimes you just have to say your piece and move on. I might say something like, “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow,” and really mean that just as a literal statement of fact based on the weather report. And yet I often feel that people try to read much more into my words than I intended. On the other hand, I often have to caution people not to be “too literal” when it comes to interpreting stories and mythology. Sometimes there is no “literal truth,” but rather a psychological or artistic truth. I’m really not speaking a secret code that other people are supposed to decipher (I would find that extremely tiresome myself) just because I talk about poetry, myths, art, and other things that have layers of meaning. It’s not true that a person named Daphne literally turned into a tree because someone named Apollo chased her, but it is true that it’s sometimes necessary to put your foot down and make a stand.

Others things I learned from National Dessert Day:

1. There are an awful lot of blogs out there on cooking that almost look like someone just made them up and slapped them on the Internet a week ago. It’s not that they are lacking in quality, it’s just that they don’t quite seem real.
2. Banana pudding is one of the most appealing desserts there is to look at; you hardly ever see a photo of banana pudding that isn’t mouth-watering.
3. It takes a little courage to write about food and Aphrodite, as one feels that one is almost bound to be judged, or misjudged, for the attempt, even though you may only be saying what other people are thinking.
4. Fruits are more “erotic” than vegetables, and it’s probably because of the sugar.
5. Some fruits are more “erotic” than other fruits. Never really thought it through in those terms before, but it’s true.
6. Chocolate truffles, according to one source, were named for the truffles that grow in the ground because of the “earthy” appearance of their centers. That never would have occurred to me, though both kinds of truffles are expensive gourmet items.

That’s about it for this week. Thanks for reading, but remember this: if you take an idea from this page and run with it, only to find yourself at the business end of an international crisis, don’t blame me. Learn to be a little more thoughtful about what you read; take a couple of classes or something.

Wordplay Indulges in Broad Generalizations. You’re Welcome.

With last week’s post, I thought I had gotten Aphrodite and Eros and desserts and all out of my system, but that does not seem to be the case. I know this because I keep finding myself looking up pictures of the most elegant desserts I can find on the Internet. Of course, you cool kids know that when we speak of Aphrodite, we are speaking of more than romantic love. Aphrodite encompasses luxuries and indulgences of all types: fine wines, beauty, fashion, flowers, and, of course, desserts. If you’re not sure how this works, or what the goddess of love has to do with any of this, think of it this way: Aphrodite encompasses romance, and all of the above are considered enhancements or accompaniments to romance. And certainly, it is quite all right—healthy, actually—to fall in love with yourself and to treat yourself with appropriate indulgences as needed.

I know that my readers understand this because reductionism is a kind of sin in depth psychology, and if you follow this blog, that means you have some appreciation for the nuances of the soul. In mythology, too, it’s unusual for simple mathematics to rear its head: rarely does “this” equal “that” in any kind of neatly delineated way. Aphrodite and Eros reign over an entire class of experiences, not just sensual love, and that includes a group of things we might categorize as “the finer things in life.” Most people realize that life is made up of not just one or two but a variety of different types of experiences. “To everything, there is a season,” as Ecclesiastes tells us.

Nevertheless, just as people often have one or two qualities predominating in their makeup, so do places. L.A., for instance, is one of the most Aphrodite places I’ve ever seen, and Lexington, KY, (where I live now) is one of the least. There’s nothing unusual about a place or a person having a dominant cast to it, but it’s also true that whatever is undervalued or outside the comfort zone tends to go into the shadow. Thus many people have the perception that L.A. is an anti-intellectual place and that Kentucky is a very hearth, home, and family type of place. I’ve spent enough time in Kentucky to know that there’s a lot of truth in this perception and also to feel that people here have a suspicion of “Aphrodite.” It’s not that they don’t feel it, it’s that they’re not quite at home with it. It seems like frippery, perhaps, or something that might lead you astray, away from the things that really matter: hearth, home, family, and God. Of course, if it weren’t for Aphrodite, there wouldn’t be children or families, but somehow Aphrodite seems to get divorced from the rest of the process, as if she had nothing to do with it at all, and Demeter rules the roost.

My current preoccupation with Aphrodite springs, I’m certain, from my current experiences. If you ever find yourself living in your car and getting by from paycheck to paycheck, you may discover, as I have, that a healthy person eventually rebels against all that cheapism and tries to seek balance as best it can. You throw a chocolate bar into the grocery cart once in a while or check into a hotel to experience cool sheets, pillows, and air conditioning. A person who lives in his or her intellect much of the time (Athena/Apollo) will, at the best of times, seek out sensory enjoyment just to stay in balance, and if you’re living in very reduced circumstances, it doesn’t become less important but rather more. Certainly, it’s possible to have too much Aphrodite in one’s life, which amounts to overindulgence; it’s also quite possible to have too little, which amounts to poverty.

So it was that, being off work today and still thinking about dessert, no matter how hard I tried to find other “more important” things to read about, I decided to set myself a task: to discover an Internet photo of the most luxurious fall dessert not involving pumpkin that was out there to be found. This was how I made what was, to me, an interesting observation. The majority of fall desserts that don’t involve pumpkin contain apples, and no matter how long I looked, I couldn’t find an apple dessert that seemed luxurious in the same way a profiterole or chocolate mousse is. (An exception might be a galette, simply because the French have a deft way of putting Aphrodite into their food that does not seem to come as easily to most Americans.) Vast quantities of cinnamon, sugar, butter, and cream notwithstanding, all the apple desserts I saw, as delicious and appealing as they looked, seemed wholesome rather than gourmet, and I think this has to do with the apple itself. Introduce an apple into a dessert, and you’re suddenly speaking of harvest, Grandma’s kitchen, and the farm rather than of luxury.

So, here’s my contribution to world peace: 1. Aphrodite, so often either overvalued, maligned, or misunderstood, is probably most to be feared when overvalued, maligned, or misunderstood. 2. American culture has a Puritan cast to it that gives Aphrodite sort of a bad name here, but this possibly diminishes the further you get from New England. 3. If you require an indulgent dessert with apples in it, you might have to go as far as France. 4. Kentuckians are great at getting in the harvest but suck at experiencing (or creating) sensory delight. 5. People in L.A. fear being ugly or wearing their pants too loose as much as the rest of us would fear the plague. 6. It often costs more to make things beautiful, but the payoff in psychological well-being is probably vastly underrated.

The Eros of Planet Raphael

On Wordplay’s Facebook page, we have been visited lately by a rather persistent Aphrodite who keeps making her presence known via images of luscious desserts and sexy planets (yes, you read that right). Here at Wordplay, we take responsibility for noticing and commenting on these aphrodisiacal moments that keep appearing in our culture, but did we invent them? No, we did not. Aphrodite is much older than anybody here, including Wordplay, and Wordplay is practically Methusaleh (we remember Beatlemania: think of that). Perhaps we will take credit for letting our imagination run and associating one thing with another in ways that might not have occurred to someone else.

We admit to always having had an eye for beautiful desserts, but sexy planets? As you know from reading our blog, we have an interest in both astronomy and the mythology of the night sky. Many celestial objects are named for gods, goddesses, and other mythical creatures, and it’s not surprising that some of the attributes of these mythic beings cling here and there to their namesakes. We respect scientific objectivity and understand that the methods and objectives of science and mythology do not always coincide, but we suspect that scientists are just as human as anyone else and (at least some of the time) respond to the “romance” of the night sky as well as its “objective reality”: the seductive quality of moonlight, the impulse to wish on a falling star, the allure of celestial visions swimming far out in space and brought into focus only with the aid of high-powered telescopes.

I am sure there are scientific reasons why astronomers and astrophysicists would apply filters that cause images of the planets to become saturated with certain colors, but the eye of imagination responds to the color’s allure, not the technical rationale for using it. When an artist’s rendering of a celestial object lovingly emphasizes its beauty, I assume that the artist is bringing Eros to bear on his or her work. This would explain why I look at an image of the planet Jupiter depicted in swirls of brown and cream by the Mabuchi Design Office/Astrobiology Center of Japan and see a cream puff or tiramisu, and why a rendering of a blue planet with the irresistible name of GJ 3512b seems to beckon like a love god.

In thinking about planet GJ 3512b (which I would probably name “Raphael”), I realized I’d been presented with a challenge. Some of the other planets were photographed or drawn with warm colors more associated with food and appetite, while GJ 3512b was enticingly swathed in bands of blue. Since blue is a “cool” color, more associated with spirit than with carnality, I wondered at the source of the allure. In looking at images of the color blue (and that was how I started my search), I realized almost immediately that while blue is indeed cool, it is somehow hot at the same time. This is perhaps not as strange as it seems if you think about the sensation in your fingers after you’ve been holding an ice cube: the intense cold almost feels like heat, in some contradictory-but-true sense. There’s a yin and yang to heat and cold, and they blend into one another. Robin’s egg blue may seem like an innocent color, one you might use in a child’s room, but there’s also the smoky blue of jazz.

I remember once being inspired to write a poem about the color blue, trying to interpret it through each of the senses (what it sounds like, what it tastes like, etc.), through a sort of applied synesthesia. (I did it on my lunch hour; yes, I suppose you have a lot of pent-up creativity when you’re surrounded by dusty law books all day.) I thought about that when putting together my photo essay on the erotic qualities of the color blue. To me, it’s as if, instead of throwing down an apple, Paris threw down three planets and asked, “Which is the fairest?” In the end, I’m not quite sure blue didn’t win out over some of the warmer colors, the blush pinks and the cafe au lait browns, because I kept finding more and more images of blue, all steeped with an intense allure, many more than I could use.

Here, then, is a supreme paradox in nature: how cool is, in reality, underneath it all, warm. (But props to blush pink and cafe au lait brown, too, for giving blue a run for its money.) It would be interesting to go through all of the colors like this and run a similar experiment. I suspect they all have the potential to be cool or hot; perceptions that assign this or that quality to certain colors are, to some extent, arbitrary. Eros is in the eye of the beholder.