He made the earth upon it, and
the sky, and the sea's water,
and the tireless sun, and the
moon waxing into her fullness,
and on it all the constellations
that festoon the heavens,
the Pleiades and the Hyades and
the strength of Orion
and the Bear, whom men give also
the name of the Wagon,
who turns about in a fixed place
and looks at Orion
and she alone is never plunged
in the wash of the Ocean.
(Description of Achilles' shield from The Iliad, 483-489)
(Description of Achilles' shield from The Iliad, 483-489)
I saw this on my way home from writing this blog post at a cafe! Chillin on a street corner. Certainly a sign... |
Ekphrasis. Sounds sinister. Like in the medical, hesitate to
Google it kind of way. “But really it’s creative alchemy,” Caleb, the Classics
PhD student, assured us. “It’s a dramatic description of art in a piece of
literature.” We were circled around him story-hour-style. The MIMA space had
been emptied of furniture, musical equipment, my paintings and the surprising
number of lambskins that usually adorn its surfaces to make way for an incoming
Pratt show. Only a handful of essential instruments and a lone painting, too
big to shove into my car, were left standing.
When a work of art is described through another medium, it
morphs and becomes a new piece of art in this form. Ekphrasis isn’t about
exhaustively cataloguing the parts. It’s about translating the impact. One
early, powerful example of this is the description of Achilles’ shield in the Iliad. The shield is hewn by the god Hephaestus after
Achilles’ original armor is stolen by the Trojans and the death of his friend
throws him into a state of mad bloodlust. The description of the shield’s
concentric rings of imagery is epic, encompassing all of the senses. Within the
bold, detailed metalwork, lutes and lyres provide a dynamic soundtrack; reeds
sway in windy marshes; characters argue and marry, dance and chop each other to
bits on the battlefield.
These stood their ground and fought
a battle by the banks of the river,
and they were making casts at
each other with their spears bronze-headed;
and Hate was there with
Confusion among them, and Death the destructive;
she was holding a live man with
a new wound, and another
one unhurt, and dragged a dead
man by the feet through the carnage.
The clothing upon her shoulders
showed strong red with the men's blood. (433-438)
These pictures are navigated much like a god from on high
might effortlessly zoom in and out of the worlds below, moving close in to see
a maiden collecting flowers for a festival and then zooming out for a panoramic
view of the cosmos. Scholars and artists have tried to map out the shield of
Achilles and, although there have been many interpretations, the scenes depicted
within resist being frozen in a 2-D plane by mortal hands. Words are necessary
to communicate the magic of an object made by the blacksmith of the gods.
Then Caleb announced that this week our song-writing
workshop would stem from my painting. (The one left standing. Which was fitting
because the painting is from my Outpost
series and is about the last remaining thing in an environment hell-bent on
tearing it down.) It would be our own “visual to musical” version of ekphrasis. We started by asking questions about the painting. Just
questions, no answers. “Is it being built or falling apart?” “Is there any way
out or in?” “What’s making the light?” “Who lives there?” “Are they happy?”
This won’t surprise any recent MFA graduates, but these are
not the questions that artists get asked in an academic or critical setting.
More often you will hear, “How are the derivative, impressionistic marks in the
bottom left corner detracting from the formalistic unity?” But these were
refreshing inquiries and way more representative of the way I talk to myself about the things that I make. Then, each
of the musicians came up with a phrase associated with the piece, set it to
music and played it for the group. With all these melodic fragments floating
around in our heads, we began to play, improvise together, build something in
the spirit of the thing.
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