Puberty

Aaron Dupuis
Munch, Puberty, 1893
Midway on our life's journey, I found myself
In dark woods, the right road lost. To tell 
About these woods is hard - so tangled and rough
And savage that thinking of it now, I feel
The old fear stirring: death is hardly more bitter.
 - Inferno, Dante, Canto I

I don't envy Dante for going through his mid-life crisis in 14th century Italy. Carrying the weight of depression, regret, and doubt before the invention of motorcycles, hair restoration, and dating services sounds like Hell on earth. The poor guy's true love died, and he'd only ever seen her twice. His political party had lost power, and his wife nagged him nightly about leaving the chamber pot lid up. A modern poet would have taken to the bottle, but whiskey hadn't hit the shelves in Italy just yet. Instead, Dante put pen to parchment and scrawled out one of the greatest poetry epics known to man, The Divine Comedy. His cantos cast his enemies into hell, placed his beloved Beatrice in heaven, gave him Virgil as a spiritual guide, and secured his place in history as il Somma Poeta.

Admittedly, I have no experience on which to base my feelings on Dante's situation. I'm a seventeen year old kid cracking jokes about people of an age more than twice my own. In some way, I am in no position to muse about the pains of growing old, but I have wandered through dark woods of my own. I suppose I'm lost in some right now. 

Each night when my head hits the pillow I sigh, and reflect, and many nights I reach the same conclusions: I am happy, but not fulfilled. I am busy, but not productive. I care deeply, but do not act. I can't decide whether I'm waiting for things to fix themselves, or for Cormac McCarthy to float through my window and show me the right road (preferably not the one he wrote about). The only thing I'm certain of is that the latter won't happen. And it shouldn't. I'm not alone in these woods. Though the brush and bramble may block my view, I know that there are others, and that many deserve their guide's attention more. 

  • 11:14 PM

Laocoon

Dante
El Greco, Laocoön, 1610-1614
The head was twisted backwards: some cruel torsion
Forced face towards kidneys, and the people strode
Backwards, because deprived of forward vision.
Perhaps some time a palsy was wrung the head
Of a man straight back like these, or a terrible stroke -
But I've never seen one do so, and doubt it could.
-Inferno, Dante, Canto XX

This circle in Dante's Inferno houses fortune tellers and people who have searched for their future. These figures rest, or rather, are dis-configured and forced to face backward and walk forward. Especially disturbing to Dante, this heinous torture brings him to tears. The notes on Canto XX explain the controversies of this circle pertaining to Virgil. Known for his "reputation in the Middle Ages as a magician and the practice of telling the future through random selections from his writing," Dante uses this situations to explain their differences, which creating the longest lecture in Inferno.

El Greco shows another form of terrible torture in Laocoon, which depicts the story of his death. El Greco took this imagery from Virgil's Aeneid where Laocoon, Neptune's priest in Troy during the Trojan War, attempts to warn the Trojans of accepting the gift from the Greeks.  In the Aeneid Laocoon exclaims,"'Are you out of your minds, you poor fools? Are you so easily convinced that the enemy has sailed away? Do you honestly think that any Greek gift comes without treachery? What is Ulysses known for? Either this lumber is hiding Achaeans inside, or it has been build as an engine of war to attack our walls, to spy on our homes and come down on the city from above. Or some other evil lurks inside, do not trust the horse Trojans! Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.'" This strict warning to the Trojans was followed by a spear driven from Laocoon's hand into the "belly of the beast" and stirred up a loud noise throughout because of the hollow nature of the horse. his warnings were dismissed, but still upset the Goddess Athena.

Athena, offended by Laocoon's prediction of the horse, arranged for his fate to be met in a ruthless fashion. As he was praying at Neptune's altar, two serpents emerged from the water, and without hesitation, moved straight for Laocoon's sons, killing them both. Running to his sons, Laocoon was captured by the serpents, and they wrapped "Twice around his waist and twice around his neck," Virgil describes the rest of the attack, "Their heads held high. As the priest struggled to wrench himself free from the knotted coils, his headbands were soaked with venom and gore, and his horrible cries reached up to the stars." The story goes on to say how the people thought his punishment was well-deserved for having tampered with the Greeks gift, but those Trojans would not think that for long, because Laocoon's predictions, of course, came to pass.

The story of Laocoon and Canto XX both describe gruesome dismemberment of bodies and uncomfortable pain dealt unto the people. Dante describes the bodies of the psychics and fortune tellers in an unimaginable way, and El Greco illustrates the same horror through the Laocoon and his son's death. El Greco, known for his exaggerated proportions, allows the eye to view the elongated bodies in full pain and torture, much the same way that Dante's bodies are described in Canto XX.        

  • 7:00 AM

Vatican City Spiral Staircase

Dante
Vatican City Museum Spiral Staircase, 1854
Through me you enter into the city of woes,
Through me you enter into eternal pain,
through me you enter the population of loss.
Justice moved my high maker, in power divine,
wisdom supreme, love primal. no things were before me not eternal; eternal I remain
Abandon all hope, you who enter here.
- Inferno, Dante, Canto III, Lines 1-7.

Yikes. 

 This quote would definitely be a cruel opener for a final exam. Or a very clear warning for Dante to get out of there. (Too bad Virgil’s apparently an optimist and encourages him to enter. Double yikes.) This quote graces the Gates of Dis, or the Entrance to Hell, and serves as a final nail in the coffin that any sinner that manages to enter these gates has no need to retain hope for escape. It’s a miracle Dante doesn’t swoon at this warning. 

Because Dante describes Hell as one of many levels with different types of sinners on each level, almost like a spiral down to the worst, most dismal part, I chose the staircases of Vatican City’s museums as a representation of the quote. Renown for their classic spiral down to the bottom, it reminded me of the the seemingly spiral descent into hell. But it's also beautiful, both the stairs and hell in a strange way. The pain and woes of hell bring an odd sense of beauty. It's the mixture of the different levels of pain and sins that meld together to create this intricately designed hell known as Dante's Inferno. Perhaps it's the beauty of the complexity that attracts me to the entrance of hell,and its disconsolate words create a dangerous image that's chilling and beautiful . 

 I think the Vatican City Museum Staircase represents it well with the colors the designers use. It starts off as a light gray and slowly changes hues to a darker but warm brown. It's gorgeous and a little bit intimidating.  

 Although the Vatican City museums clearly aren't as frightening as the quote, the style of the stairs are intricately made and the seemingly perfect spiral down to each level seem to give a different feel on each level - just like in Dante’s Inferno.
  • 7:00 AM

Death of the Centaur Nessus

1692

Luca Giordano, Death of the Centaur Nessus, 1692

My Master said: "Our answer will we make
To Chiron, near you there; in evil hour,
That will of thine was evermore so hasty."
Then touched he me, and said: "This one is Nessus,
Who perished for the lovely Deianira,
And for himself, himself did vengeance take.

- Inferno, Dante, Canto XII, Lines 66-71

As Dante clambers down into the depths of hell guided by Virgil, he encounters a group of centaurs. These mythical creatures—half man, half horse—maintain order in hell. At first they seem hostile towards Dante and his mentor. However, after Virgil pulls his pretty standard “sent by the all-powerful creator” routine, the centaurs grudgingly oblige, and Chiron, a mentor of heroes from Greek mythology, instructs Nessus to carry our hero to the next stage.

The lines above reference Nessus’s unusual fate in Greek mythology. He, like so many unfortunate Greek villains, dies at the hands of Hercules. He tries to kidnap Hercules’ wife, Deianira; Hercules kills him with an arrow. In a brilliant stroke of treachery, Nessus uses his dying breath to dupe Hercules’ wife into killing Hercules. Deianira has recently become tired of Hercules’ cheating. Despite his marriage, Hercules has used his classical celebrity to father children around the Greek world. Nessus recognizes this pain in Deianira and proposes to her a cure for her husband’s adultery. He tells her that a mixture of his blood and olive oil will ensure that Hercules never cheats on her again. She fails to recognize the rather blatant threat in those words and allows Nessus to wreak his revenge from the grave. She puts the solution in a flask. In a later attempt to stop her husband’s philandering she applies the mixture to Hercules’ clothing. It burns the strongman's skin. Badly... as in so badly that he actually throws himself into a pit of flame just to stop it from burning. He dies.

In Death of the Centaur Nessus,’the poor monster lies pathetically as he bleeds from an arrow to his heart. He clutches Deianira, who looks down pityingly. Hercules rages in the background; he appears far more brutal and wild than the centaur. His wild and untamed appearance parallels his promiscuity. The top of the rocks in the middle ground bisects the painting horizontally. Nessus seems quite convincing, especially considering he just kidnapped Deianira. His bald-faced treachery allows Nessus to rise above his centaur friends and enter the upper echelon of cool Greek guys.

  • 7:00 AM

Procession to Calvary

Brennan DePew
Hieronymus Bosch, Procession to Calvary, ca. 1515

Crowded. Chaotic. Overflowing. Faces and figures flood the canvas of Bosch's Procession to Calvary, creating a sense of bedlam. The piece feels uncomfortable as one scans the visages, the bulging eyes and open mouths. Then, one spies Christ's face. The closed eyelids, the shut mouth, the face devoid of expression and wrinkle - they all communicate serenity and calm. A visual oasis in a desert of panic. He's welcome refuge from the movement and loudness  he stands out among the masses because he lacks the frantic, overwhelming energy of the surrounding figures. Silent and calm, his simpleness separates him.

Dante's The Inferno holds within its pages a dark parallel of this concept. In Canto XIV, while journeying through the seventh circle, Dante and Virgil come upon a massive crowd of tortured souls, stumbling naked through a desert, cracked and barren, moaning in torment as fire rains down on them. They all squirm, whimper, and rage against their eternal punishment. All except one, who lies prone on his back, staring up in unflinching defiance against God. He alone refuses to acknowledge the pain, and silently focuses his hatred upon the heavens. Unmoving and unrepentant, his inaction separates him.

  • 7:00 AM

The Flight into Egypt

Adam Elsheimer
Elsheimer, The Flight into Egypt, 1609
And following its path, we took no care
To rest, but climbed: he first, then I--so far,
Through a round aperture I saw appear
Some of the beautiful things that Heaven bears,
Where we came forth, and once more saw the stars. 
- Inferno, Dante, Canto XXXIV, 136-40

Adam Elsheimer, a German artist, created his famous The Flight into Egypt in 1609 in Rome. The painting pictures the Holy family makes its way through a dim landscape below an expanse of starry sky. The moon, the torch held by Joseph, and the campfire provide the three main sources of light. The river bank and the outline of heavily dense trees form a diagonal across the picture. It echoes with the milky river, a symbol often believed to be the path to Heaven. The Holy family walks towards the left to where the campfire  is located and to where the milky river leads upwards, implying to the audience that a shelter and a auspicious future await them.

Just like the King Herod is after the Holy family, the horrible demonstration of Hell scares Dante away. Coincidently, the starry sky is always in the background. In addition, Dante's Purgatorio and his Paradiso, like the Inferno, end with the word stars.

I frequently pictured Dante in my head as the screaming man painted by Edvard Munch. I try to think what his face looks like when he finally gets out of the bloody Hell. I was expecting Dante would spend another Canto to depict the gorgeous landscape above the ground, and his ecstatic mood towards the ravishing view of man's world. But he did not. No more views are mentioned but the stars, and no more words are said but, "the beautiful things that Heaven bears." Short, but powerful. After witnessing scores of horrendous tortures in Hell,  Dante says that above the starry sky, Heaven never abandons you; and only can the mighty God create such a view of silence, peace and solemnity.

  • 7:00 AM

The Suicide

Alexandre-Gabriel Decamps
The Suicide, Alexandre-Gabriel Decamps, 1836
Here we shall drag them, and through the mournful wood
Our bodies will be hung: with every one
Fixed on the thornbush of its wounding shade. 
-- Inferno, Dante, Canto XIII

Suicide is the tenth leading cause of death in the United States as of 2007, right after, oddly, nephritis (an inflammation of the kidneys), but it certainly receives more press than kidney disease. The ranks of the suicides in Dante’s Inferno are growing year by year, and more thorny trees sprouting in the seventh circle. Here, Alexandre-Gabriel Decamps’ The Suicide depicts an artist who decided to end it all, his face shrouded in shadow. The dark, gloomy atmosphere of the painting weighs heavily on the viewer’s mind, calling to mind the dark consequences of such an act.

Christian theology firmly opposes suicide. In Corinthians, potential suicides are admonished with “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit... You are not your own, you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body” (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). Dante’s famous contrapasso method for determining sin and punishment gives the suicides’ fate as becoming trapped within thorny, tough trees and bushes, boughs constantly broken by nesting harpies. The sinners they share the circle with the profligates, as they run from the black dogs that hound them through the forest. The dark, brooding atmosphere of the ring echoes the mindset of gloom and self-doubt that leads many to self-harm. As a final punishment, when the souls regain their bodies on the day of judgement, they may not inhabit them again, “for justice must forbid / Having what one has robbed oneself of." Instead, the corpses will hang from the trees and bushes of the macabre wood, like a particularly tasteless haunted house.

Decamps was perhaps inspired in this work by the death of his contemporary Léopold Robert, whose paintings were harshly criticized and who took his own life in 1835. The painting, in shades of sepia and brown, gives a mere suggestion of detail in the background, and brings the shoulder of the dead man forward in stark, chiaroscuro-like contrast. A shelf of art supplies is visible, including a palette, and the gun used to do the deed sits in a weak patch of sunlight from an unseen window, with the artist’s outflung hand leading the eye to it in an almost accusatory fashion. The gloomy, brooding nature of the painting, as well as the events inspiring it, provoked a wave of discourse on the harshness of artistic criticism and the melancholy tendencies of artists, perhaps partly as a result of said harshness.

So, please be nice to artists. We need not have them transforming themselves into shrubbery.
  • 7:00 AM

AND THE MOON BECAME AS BLOOD

Alex McDonald
AND THE MOON BECAME AS BLOOD, Howard Finster, 1976
But keep your eyes below us, for coming near
Is the river of blood—in which boils everyone
Whose violence hurt others.’ O blind desire
Of covetousness, O anger gone insane—
That goad us on through life, which is so brief,
To steep in eternal woe when life is done.” 
-Canto XII of Dante’s Inferno; First Ring of the Seventh Circle

 According to Dante’s Inferno, a boiling river of blood runs through the 7th Circle of Hell full of the souls of those who drew the blood of others in their lives. These shades of the world’s murderers are kept submerged in their agonizing baptism by Chiron, the centaur who trained Achilles, and his legion of horse-men. While Dante and Virgil are led by Chiron along the crimson river, Dante recognizes the faces of many infamous men, such as Atilla the Hun and well-known Italian war lords of Dante’s time. And if these murderers try to climb out of the river, the centaurs pelt them with arrows and kick them back into the current of boiling blood. Though being fantastically utilized, Dante borrows his river of blood imagery from older Christian texts that artist/preacher Howard Finster also depicts in his paintings.

Finster's AND THE MOON BECAME AS BLOOD portrays a scene from the Book of Revelations, the final book of the Bible that discusses the apocalypse. In the Book of Revelations, Angels on God’s command turn all the water into blood, which kills all the living creatures in the sea. God does this because he wishes to punish those who “have shed the blood of the holy ones and the prophets, and [the angels that have] given them blood to drink; it is what they deserve” (Revelations, 16: 6). The origin of Dante’s river of blood could possibly be taken from chapter 16 in Revelations. But one cannot know for certain; but like a good student, Finster clearly cites his sources.

 Bible quotes label every little action occurring in AND THE MOON BECAME AS BLOOD, which is a common feature of Finster’s work. Finster believed God came to him in visions and told him to spread His word through art. One such vision occurred when Finster examined a spot of wet paint on his finger. Staring back up at him was a face. This face told Finster to make 5,000 paintings, which would preach the Word of God. So Finster warns his viewers what could become of them in the end days as Dante warns his readers what awaits them in the afterlife. Of course, the idea of drinking blood appears more than once in Christian theology.

 Every Sunday, Christians drink the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Some Christians believe that the Eucharist symbolizes the body and blood, while others believe it to be the literal flesh of Christ. Churchgoers consume the wine/blood because this will cure them of their human inclination towards sin and grant them entrance into Heaven. Finster places a winepress full of blood in AND THE MOON BECAME AS BLOOD while Dante places Dionysius (the Greek god of wine) in his river of blood. The connection between wine and blood exists in both works. The blood of Christ (wine) and water for baptism are essential to the life a Christian and these two sacred liquids have been taken away in AND THE MOON BECAME AS BLOOD and Dante’s Inferno. The sinners in Revelations must consume the Blood of God while the murders in Hell must forever be baptized in a pool of boiling blood.

Besides dealing with theology, Finster also plays with symmetry in AND THE MOON BECAME AS BLOOD. Finster cuts the painting in two equal halves between the sea of blood and the piece of dry land with a blurry white border. It makes AND THE MOON BECAME AS BLOOD look like two different paintings smashed together, similar to the borders between the Circles of Hell within Inferno. The portions put together create the whole. Each half of the painting has an upper blue or gray level with two round shapes in them. In the upper half, these orbs are the sun and the moon. In the lower portion, the orbs are the wine press and fountain of blood. All four spheres are objects being tampered with by the angels. And then blood borders the lower portions of the painting. Symmetry also exists between the two angels spilling their vials into the seas. These are the two rivers of blood within the first and second circles of AND THE MOON BECAME AS BLOOD. 

  • 7:00 AM

Uncle Jimmy Green and Student

Daniel Chester French
Uncle Jimmy Green and Student, Daniel Chester French, 1924
I am no Aeneas or Paul:
Not I nor others think me of such worth,
And therefore I have my fears of playing the fool
To embark on such a venture. You are wise:
You know my meaning better than I can tell.
- Inferno, Dante, Canto II

Forgive this foray into the personal, but please stay while enough to hear the words. 

Last week, I had the pleasure to see old friends. Six of us attended the opening of Terry Evans' stunning retrospective "Heartland" at the Nelson-Atkins Museum. After the reception, and the reception-after-the-reception, we retired to Cafe Trio for more communion and laughs. Four of us attended high school together: Dave, the country director of Liberia for the International Rescue Committee fresh from four years with Mercy Corps in Iraq (his mother is the artist above); Phillip, the gentleman farmer and artist from Oskaloosa; his high-school sweetheart, spouse and ace ad woman Sally; and me, the book critic turned English and Art History teacher. We were joined by my dearest, early childhood education expert Jennifer; and David's charming Scottish friend Ashley, who has seen international relief action in Sierra Leone, Darfur, the West Bank, and Iraq. Later we were joined by David's sister, Corey, who directs the education program at the Citi Performing Arts Center in Boston.

Please be patient, the exposition nears its end. As so often the case with folks who have known each other for more than 25 years, friendly fire can be the biggest danger. Openings get exploited immediately, and foibles of the past become the grist for present chuckles. As so often the case, I faced such an attack, with four fellow graduates of Salina Central High finding the bead. They fired. 

At least I thought so at the time. After an amusing recollection of mini-scandal involving four junior high and high school teachers, I was deemed "Mrs. Sackrider." "You're so Mrs. Sackrider." "Totally." A gauntlet taunt, to be sure. 

Mrs. Sackrider, now Barbara Werth, was an English and Humanities teacher at Salina Central High for many moons. Her look was what one would expect - flowing skirts, a beaded chain for reading glasses and an undisputed passion and knowledge for all things literary and artistic. She was also the woman who introduced me to modern art, the beauty of El Greco skies and the poetry of Dante. 

In the moment, I turned defensive - I am not Mrs. Sackrider. My approach is different, my interests are different, my emphasis on writing different. Of course, that merely opened the floodgates. I took heat for the similarities in sartorial choices - what is the flowing print skirt but an analogue to the sweater vest? Didn't I major in Humanities at college? Wasn't I teaching her class? I stumbled for answers, thinking somehow I needed to differentiate myself from one of my first mentors. 

After considering this for a few days, I offer my friends a response, "Damn right I am Barbara Sackrider." And I will add to it: I am happy to even be considered with people like Nancy Presnal, Larry Patrick, Garry Armour, Gerry Masinton, Philip Barnard, Cheryl Lester, Tom Lorenz, Ted Johnson, Art Crumm, Mac Gratwick, or Robert Demeritt. What I didn't realize in the silliness of the moment - teachers do make a difference in kids' life. However, I need to remember that as a teacher, it should never be about me. 

Mrs. Sackrider introduced me to Dante. I am merely passing it along. For this post I have chosen the image of the James Woods Green and Alfred C. Alford. Green was the dean of the University of Kansas Law School for 41 years. Alford was killed in the Spanish-American War. The statue was crafted by Daniel Chester French, who also sculpted the Abraham Lincoln statue that sits in the Lincoln Memorial. The student looks toward the East and the sunrise, the teacher looks toward the West. For the next couple of weeks, I hope that the students of Art History at Barstow can show you the sunrise - how the curious students of today engage the world of art and literature - just as my friends and I did 25 years ago. 

  • 7:00 AM

Dante and Virgil in Hell

Dante
Eugene Delacroix, Dante and Virgil in Hell, 1822
Eugene Delacroix was a master of color, emotion, and poetic painting. He was the leading French romantic and Ingres biggest rival. Delacroix’s snobbish demeanor paved way for few friends, however, he admired Rembrandt and Rubens for their use of color, and Constable for the lighting in his landscapes. His devotion to rich earth tones and his life-long rejection of the color gray can be seen in Dante and Virgil in Hell.

This painting is a revival of Dante’s Divine Comedy, composed in the early 1300s . This epic served as the summation of the philosophy of the Middle Ages, reflecting on politics, society, and culture. It put Italy at the forefront of the Renaissance, similarly, Delacroix put France at the forefront of the Romantic Movement. In Dante and Virgil in Hell Delacroix mastered the challenge of painting eternal suffering. His use of deep browns and reds creates a dark feeling. As the Divine Comedy was a commentary on Italian society, Dante and Virgil in Hell contains small symbols of the eventual Italian demise. Virgil is in the red robe of medieval Florence, one of the principalities that fell to the plague and quickly lost all forms of humanity and dignity. Dante occupies the left half of the painting, and seems to be the only character aware of the horror that surrounds him. This commentary clearly conveys Delacroix’s feelings that Middle Age upper class Italian citizens were grossly unaware of surrounding suffering. 

The painting was originally criticized at the Salon of 1822 as a “splattering of color.” The negative reaction was still attention, and this painting was the beginning of Delacroix’s climb to fame. Today the painting is revered as one of his best, as art historians and simple viewers claim to understand its beauty and complexity.
  • 1:00 AM