the father tree
to reshuffle thoughts
a short journey is enough
leaving – returning …
legends undulate
in glowing brittle wood – sighs
from swaying branches –
Jasmin blessings
Jasmin on the breeze
laments of grief in the rain –
ancestors speak
first sounds glide on ice
circling the affirmative
leisurely routine
my beloved Alps
between dusk and dawn
all words sink to un-squared time
rounding in fish eyes
as poems probing
the deep meshes of oceans
for heart connections …
‘What else, when chaos draws all forces inward to shape a single leaf …’ C. Aiken
Visiting my early landscapes, friends in Munich, my father of 97, with my son, whose work in London means I rarely see him, was a rich experience. I had to capture the essence in a poem, which started out in German:
In der Dämmerung glänzt Gold aus der Wurtzel
Gedanken gleiten auf Eis in Kreisen herum
doch manche sinken in die Tiefe um
im Wassergewebe nach Erinnerungen
zu fischen … Gesichter ziehen vorbei
in sanften kalten und warmen Wogen …
I’ll work on this, inspired by a writer Herta Müller – (English translation on screen) introduced to me by friends whose guest I was in Munich. Anyone fascinated by language will be moved. Also this article in The Paris Review I am presently reading ‘Mein Vaterland war ein Apfelkern,’ a remarkable dialogue.
Louise Bourgeois at ‘Hause der Kunst.’
In Munich’s ‘Haus der Kunst’ I visited a wonderful exhibition of Louise Bourgeois (1911 – 2010) an artist I much admire, whose installations about the Cells of Structures of Existence are deeply impressive.
Londoners my have seen her huge spider on display in the Turbine Hall of Tate Modern. I wish I had cheated and made photos of her beautifully arranged installations in the generous spaces in Haus Der Kunst.
bar at ‘House der Kunst.’
To compensate, here is the wonderful golden bar at the ‘House der Kunst.’ And returning home – a blue invasion.
a blue invasion
Course of Mirrors 
Great pics, and thanks for the Muller and the Bourgeois links. I just finished watching Louise peel the tangerine. What a father! And then did the table share the tangerine, or the father ate it solo? So one can take a break from museum wandering in the golden bar? That’s something. I like the father tree and the Jasmin blessings, the white flowers falling upon the blue sculpture.
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Thanks. The tree in the garden of my friends has a symbolic signifcance there too. And yes, the peeling of the orange, or tangerine, hilarious, not to a child though. And I wonder who ate the flesh in the end. I, too, wonder how many girls should’ve been boys 🙂 I know I wasn’t right.
In the video on the exhibition site, it occured to me that the masculine expression of the peel was inside – Louise Bourgeois has certainly psychologically integrated the inner, hidden gender qualities in in her life, a Jungian idea of developing towards wholeness.
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A very enriching new posting…returning – leaving…pausing…arriving… xxx Date: Sat, 27 Jun 2015 11:55:51
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Thanks Evlynn. I’m cheered by your visit.
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A lovely poem. Thank you for sharing 😀
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You’re welcome. I’m pleased you like the poem Luciana.
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This is a beautiful piece. I must admit though, I have been staring at “The Father Tree” for the last five minutes. I can’t stop looking at it! 🙂
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Thank you Belinda. The tree seems a striking manifestaion of endurance. For me it evokes compassion, overriding misgivings for my father’s neglect.
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What rich, magical experiences these were for you – food for the soul. I’m a great believer in capturing moments like this in your mind, places which hold a power, seeing people which hold a piece of your heart, all these tangible yet un-expressable things. I remember many many years ago, in my youth, seeing a wonderful Louise Borgeois exhibition in the Arnofini art gallery in Bristol. I was a young art student at the time, and a rabid arachnophobe, and entering this world of huge giant spiders had an immense impact on me. First, fear, then fascination, and later, love. There were about four or five of the sculptures all jammed into the gallery space and they ended up having a strange maternal presence, like they were protecting those who strayed beneath them. Lol, I’d love to say it cured me of my irrational spider fear, but sadly no, but I have always loved Louise Borgeois’ work though. Thank for this meditation honey. Lovely. 🙂 xx
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I experiended a similar sensation encountering the huge spider at the Tate. For Louise the creature had a protective significance.
I recently aquired a butterfly net and have since transported several spiders that were too big for comfort to safety.
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