The Private Garden (2004)
Just because people throw it out and don’t have any use for it, doesn’t mean it’s garbage. ― Andy Warhol
[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Flowers carry a lot of meaning and subtly hold a rather strong and dramatic place in art, literature, and song. Three books that immediately come to mind are The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, The Scarlet Pimpernel, by Emmuska Orczy, which thrilled me as a teen, and the one book I read in high school that still makes me stop and thing: Flowers For Algernon by Daniel Keyes. In all three the flowers are highly symbolic, subtle undertones that hold deeper meaning than one might suspect.
Musically, flowers are used to invoke a specific imagery to help make a point. I looked through my various playlists and see titles ranging from Henry Mancini’s Days of Wine and Roses (which will be playing in my head the rest of the morning now), to the Statler Brothers’ Flowers on the Wall to The Foundations singing Build Me Up Buttercup. There are myriad songs about roses, which I suppose is appropriate given their sentimental relationship to love, but I think it’s the non-rose songs that perhaps hold a stronger imagery, such as Edelweiss from The Sound of Music, and Tip Toe Through The Tulips by Tiny Tim.
My mother was always one of those people who said, “Give me my flowers while I’m alive,” and we tried to do that, but when she passed the church was so full of bouquets and sprays I’ve no idea whatever happened to them all. While flowers do, in some aspects, represent the temporary nature and frailty of life, I’ve never understood why we feel the need to inundate a family with them upon losing a loved one. Most cemeteries through them out after a week or so and for grieving families they can be an unwanted reminder of their loss. While their origin dates back to a time when bodies were not embalmed and would smell as they decayed, that’s not exactly a problem we face much anymore and too often the flowers are overwhelming, or a reminder in some cases of how few friends a person had.[/one_half]
[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]When flowers appear in artwork, however, I fear we are often too dismissive of their presence. We tend to think of them merely as decoration, or perhaps something to hold so that one’s hands don’t look awkward. Yet, flowers in art are symbols of femininity, virtuosity, and in some cases even conniving. Flowers have symbolized everything from a family’s wealth to the subject’s religious beliefs and in some cases even political affiliations. Present in almost every form of religious art, flowers serve as powerful metaphors for matters of significance.
So, where are we going when we pick a couple of dyed daisies and use them as we have in today’s photo? Daises traditionally represent innocence and gentleness.  Given the implied placement of the flowers here, innocence and gentleness is certainly a preferred way of looking at the matter. However, that would really only apply were the daisies white. These were dyed red and orange. Red daisies represent a beauty the possessor doesn’t realize. Orange, while not natural in daisies, generally represents warmth. I’ll just let your imagination take it from there.
Flowers are so very fragile, and at the same time so very powerful. They are a simple way of infusing deeper meaning into an image that possessed little. Their mere presence can write stories that would go on for pages. They spark our sense of the romantic and the poetic. And occasionally, in certain circumstances, the flowers seem to beg us to pick them. Should you choose to pluck these, I strongly recommend handling with care.[/one_half_last]
Dance Or Protest
Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame! —William Butler Yeats
May Day gives us an option: we can either dance, or we can protest. Which is likely to do us more good?
Happy Easter!
Yeah, I know, that wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, was it? But yes, this is the Greek Orthodox Easter. Enjoy the highly decorated eggs.
For everyone else, Happy May Day! You now have a choice for how to spend your day: will you dance or will you protest?
One of the few memories I have of first grade is our May Day celebration. The music teacher organized the event complete with a Maypole, and flowers, and dancing, and May baskets. I remember the bright colors of the Maypole and how much fun it was to dance with all my classmates to the cool music of the lute. We were really into lutes when I was six. I also remember how proud I was of the woven construction paper basket that, somewhat unbelievably now, the teacher filled with candy and flowers with instructions for us to take them home and give them to our mothers. What’s unbelievable about that is not only that the teacher gave us fresh-cut daffodils and candy, but that the candy actually made it home!
There really is no accurate dating of when May Day celebrations began. They are unique to the Northern Hemisphere because if one lives in the Southern Hemisphere one is getting ready for winter, not Summer. The general consensus seems to be that by May 1 all of the plantings would have likely been done and it was a good day for everyone to take a break, celebrate life, and, oh yeah, sex. Pagans tended to be rather big on that part, even though there is some debate over whether that was an actual ritual or not. They called the day Beltaine and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.
After centuries of dancing, though, the day took on new meaning during the 19th century when workers chose that day to strike for better working conditions and ultimately a 40-hour work week. Those protests have expanded over the years to include most every form of political statement one would want to make. All over the world today, marches are scheduled in protest of government action, government inaction, and a lack of basic rights and living conditions. Some of the strongest may come in Venezuela where the government ordered clocks set 30 minutes ahead, among other measures, to help save electricity. Greece also seems to be a likely target for protests as the combination of economic and immigration problems keep the country in distress.
The difference between the two ways of commemorating the day is striking. One, the oldest, has a positive message and attitude, one born of joy and celebration, anticipation for the future.  The other is  born of anger, resentment, and frustration at one’s condition. The two don’t remotely go together. This means we have a choice. Are our efforts best served in the pursuit of dance and happiness and maybe even a little frivolity? Or is our time better spent raising our voice against injustice?
Personally, I choose to dance for a couple of reasons. One, dancing in circles is the one dance I can do well. Give me a brightly colored piece of ribbon tied to a pole and I’ll dance until we’re both dizzy. Second, I’m not convinced smaller protests matter any more. Politicians are too dismissive. The only time a protest seems to work is when the crowd is large enough to be genuinely threatening, and no one in Indiana is quite that passionate about a damn thing. So, dancing seems to make a lot more sense, doesn’t it?
I invite you to dance with me, if you will. We actually have wood in the fire pit, but after yesterday’s rains, I’m going to assume it’s all soaked. And I don’t have a pole or brightly colored strips of cloth. We can still dance, though, even if it decides to rain. Dancing is never a bad use of a Sunday.
Go ahead. Indulge. Dance.
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