Year of the Horse

On my first trip to Asia, I was told that I was totally predictable for being a Rooster. Among other obvious traits people immediately had noticed in me were independence and curiosity, as I was told over a dinner where chicken and pork were successively served.

… Last night, I decided to read, in original Italian, a book recommended by a friend—Alessandro Baricco’s “Mr. Gwyn”. I was also told that the moon was full in Cancer, and therefore it was a good time to do what I had not done for a while. So I decided to read that book.

I found my return to reading in Italian most enjoyable, and the full moon a bit spooky. But it was the charming thesis of the book, to look for a story in people’s character and to capture it, that fit effortlessly into my roosterness, since my curiosity as a photographer and writer had always been about stories in people, especially when they did not know they had a story to tell.

But what about my independence? Can one be curious without depending on others to satisfy his curiosity? Can a scientist uncover while totally detached from the subject? Would a portrait be as telling about the person if that person had not posed for it? Would a writer be independent from the person of whom he is writing the portrait, as Mr. Gwyn decided to do?

Is it possible that I am not a true Rooster?

I stopped reading, looked at the moon, and decided to do a search on Google. I typed “Chinese Zodiac Rooster.” The cartoon of a rooster showed up on top of the search result. I clicked on it.

 Acute, neat, meticulous, organized, self-assured, decisive, conservative, critical, perfectionist, alert, zealous, practical, scientific, responsible. Can be over zealous and critical, puritanical, egotistical, abrasive, opinionated, given to empty bravado.

I quickly calculated that there were 14 positive traits and 7 negative ones. I liked the ratio, although wondered if the 14 positives were part of the empty bravado. Did not matter, overall a rooster seemed a good thing to be.

Next, wanted to know what happens to a Rooster in the Year of the Horse. So, did a new search “Rooster, Year of the Horse.” It read:

“A positive, yet realistic outlook is the key to making the most of this year. Now's the time to make the most of your skills, like your attention to detail and innate leadership ability. You can do a lot with the five auspicious months of this year -- while the Horse favors you, it's also a Wood year, which can clash with Metal, your fixed element.”

I clearly needed to know more about that clash between the Wood and the Metal. But I had enough to think about already and decided to postpone that last search.

Back to reading my book.

“Traduttore, pensò. Ma da che lingua?

Alla fine, l’unica cosa chiara che gli venne in mente fu una parola : copista. Gli sarebbe piaciuto fare il copista. Non era un mestiere vero, se ne rendeva conto, ma c’era un riverbero in quella parola che lo convinceva, e gli faceva credere di cercare qulcosa di preciso. »

That was it! I was searching for the distinction between a translator and a duplicator. Was it the moon, full in Cancer, guiding the flow of my thoughts? Chinese Zodiac, full moon, Alessandro Baricco and my curiosity to learn more about becoming who I am.

Not a duplicator. That much I knew. The Metal as my fixed element, I had to be a translator. One who translates steel to Damascus blades; one who translates a look into a portrait.

… I read a bit more. What was still unclear to me was not the role of translator, since I consider art as translation not creation, but that of identity and belonging. Where does a rooster find its niche for translating? Where does he feel independent to do so? And, will his curiosity eventually make him face his ultimate weakness, that of impulsive compassion?

Then I remembered a photo I had taken in Morocco of a crane sitting in its nest atop a tower in ruin. It was perhaps the full moon, but I thought I took that picture somehow knowing that it represents a metaphor.

Maybe it does now.

January 16, 2014

© Vahé Kazandjian, 2014