Showing posts with label grotesque. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grotesque. Show all posts

Friday, December 07, 2007

Another Annunciation


Actually this is the second annunciation I've posted today, but in the blog it reads first - an instance of time being folded on time. I painted this (as I mentioned in my posting for March where I took this image from) in New Mexico, where it was purchased by my friend Shannon Webster. Now it hangs in his home in Birmingham, AL. This painting is more expressionist and less concerned with the individual Mary or the individual Gabriel. The angel here appears in a flame of fire. Fire is a peculiar symbol for God and is rooted in the Hebrew scripture, notably in Song of Songs 8:6 where it reads "[my memory's translation follows] Love is strong as death and Jealosy harder than sheol; [young's literal translation following] its burnings are burnings of fire a very flame of Jah." This is echoed (notably as well in the burning bush episode) in the New Testament in Jesus' desire in Luke 12 to baptize with fire, and later in Hebrews at the end of chapter 12 where it is said that "our God is a consuming fire."

Today in looking up more information on Mary (via Wikipedia - yeah, I know, but it is a good starting place) I came across the concept of panagia, or Mary of the Sign, where the Lord and sometimes the Trinity are depicted in Mary's womb in a cut away view. The intriguing notion here is that when Mary contained Jesus, she contained the universe as well. My mind immediately went to the possibilities of space travel. This concept does explain gospel fragments found in Egypt, written in Coptic, that describe, seemingly, that during one of Mary's visits to her OB/GYN the position of the big and little dippers reversed for 20 minutes; also contained in these fragments, and a puzzle to scholars, is a reported conversation between Mary and Joseph, in that while she was pregnant, she had to excuse herself, telling Joseph that she had to visit the ladies' room and that "this might take a while." Thus are the travails when you're peeing for the universe. In a later instance, while visiting relatives at a wedding, Mary apparently ate the whole spread, when no one was looking, escaping detection because she was fairly tiny, and the volume of food consumed was enough to feed 200 people. Such are the travails when you're eating for the universe. In some gnostic texts Mary didn't ascend to heaven so much as go behind a bush to relieve herself while on a journey to Ephesus. Some say that she is still there, reading magazines, doing crossword puzzles, and learning French, and that when she finishes the Messiah will return and speak in Duke chapel.

Monday, September 17, 2007

I'm reading Bakhtin

It's amazing what this beleaguered Soviet thinker endured. Like Akhmatova his brilliance and originality upset the very system that should have embraced him: seeing that his writing on Rabelais ramified the from-the-ground-up process of revolution. Or perhaps that's the reason why he worked in, not just obscurity, but enforced obscurity, an exile imposed by spite from academic gate keepers. His work on Rabelais and carnival is an enlightening read. I'm seeing the gospel and much else in a very interesting light. Not that it's the only way to read things: but imagine, as you read say Matthew 12 - 14 Jesus walking through a countryside peopled with lepers, outcasts, widows, dull disciples, feeding thousands, and giving anxiety to a somewhat henpecked ruler - that's carnivalesque! I'm reminded of paintings by Breugel (his battle of canival and lent); Bosch (Christ carrying his cross; man of sorrows); and Ensor (Christ entering Brussels). Chuck and Stan taught a class on carnival two years ago or so, but we didn't touch on Bakhtin this way (or if we did I didn't get it then). I think we needed more pertinent examples: Rabelais, Cervantes, Shakespeare - which are Bakhtin's; instead we focused on modern phenomina - which Bakhtin ways are watered down from the ancient and medieval predecessors. Ancient carnival combined the grotesque with the comic in a folk celebration: laughter is the key. What if today we found a way to laugh at the face of terror: terror from our government as well as the purported terror from them "over there." We should be prepared to fight authoritarianism on all fronts: not just fleeing behind the power of establishment authoritarianism in the face of terrorist authoritarianism.
Does all this talk of carnival figure in the hospital? Probably, but it is a place that strains our capacity for laughter, my capacity at least, even in the face of no lack of the grotesque. In the hospital it can be asked "what can happen to the human body?" and an answer is at the ready. Laughter though is supposed to be the best medicine; according to Ecclesiastes it strengthens the heart. Much was made in ancient commentaries that Jesus isn't recorded as laughing. But I think the one verse "Jesus wept" proves the opposite, in that the one time Jesus isn't laughing, it gets recorded. Paul now, may not have laughed.
What do y'all think?