Saturday, July 17, 2021

The Importance of the Rose in the Arts, Philosophy and Politics

 

A colleague from Belgium, commented on a photo I had taken of plein air painters in Arizona.  She digitally “played” with the analogue original

 


and wrote:

“Your photography has a tendency toward impressionism, just like your poetry. You play with light as you do with words to take the focus off the theme you pursue. Sometimes I think of the song by Gilbert Bécaud “L’important c’est la rose” when I look at your work. Have you figured out what is the meaning of the rose in that song?

Hmm. Back in the 1970s there were three giants of French songs – Bécaud, Brel and Brassens. They were called ‘Les trios B de la chanson Française’. I found it funny that my friend did not choose Brel for her commentary, as he is the only Belgian out of the three!

So, I had to refresh my recollection of Bécaud’s lyrics.

 

Toi pour qui, donnant-donnant
J'ai chanté ces quelques lignes
Comme pour te faire un signe en passant
Dis à ton tour maintenant
Que la vie n'a d'importance
Que par une fleur qui danse
Sur le temps

L’important

C’est la rose l’important

 

So, the key lines seem to be:

It is your turn to say now
That life doesn't matter
Than by a dancing flower
In the time

What really counts is the rose

(The translation is mine)

 

Now, I was curious to guess why the rose was important!

… Immediately, the poem by D.H. Lawrence “Gloire de Dijon” came to mind, perhaps because of the French title and context, but also because he used the rose called Gloire de Dijon to describe a sensual and sexual moment. The specific lines are:

When she rises in the morning
I linger to watch her;
She spreads the bath-cloth underneath the window
And the sunbeams catch her
Glistening white on the shoulders,
While down her sides the mellow
Golden shadow glows as
She stoops to the sponge, and her swung breasts
Sway like full-blown yellow
Gloire de Dijon roses.

This poem is often interpreted through impressionism, like one would analyse a painting by Monet. It is fragmented, each line is self-contained and self sufficient. It is like the effect of light and shadows an impressionist painter pursues without focusing on a central theme.

Did Bécaud use the same style in his song, or is there more than style that make the song mysterious?

The definition of impressionism is:

 a style or movement in painting originating in France in the 1860s, characterized by a concern with depicting the visual impression of the moment, especially in terms of the shifting effect of light and color.

And

a literary or artistic style that seeks to capture a feeling or experience rather than to achieve accurate depiction.

Since both the song and the poem dealt with the rose, perhaps what a rose represents is worth investigating.

The rose is the most common flower used in religion, artistic writing, songs and painting as it has symbolism ranging from the veneration of Jesus Christ's mother, Mary to Greek and Roman goddesses of love, to Islamic, Indian and Persian interpretations of lust, love and death.

Indeed, in Christianity, the rose was the origin of the rosary. In Greek mythology Aphrodite preserved Hector’s body with the” immortal oil of the rose”. In Persia, the geometric designs of gardens revolved around the rose; and, the famed Sufi poet Hafez wrote that the rose gives lust to the nightingale’s song.

But the rose, while usually associated with sin and passion given its red colour, has more symbolism than for lust and veneration. For example, a blue rose connotes mystery; a yellow rose is for friendship; and, a white rose is for innocence or purity.

And, even today, these various colours are representatives of cultural celebrations or avoidance. For example, in Northern Spain, Catalans celebrate their patron Saint George (Sant Jordi) on a day called “lovers’ Day” (dia dels enamorats) by exchanging red roses.

But in recent history, some roses, especially white roses, have acquired a new political meaning regarding purity or innocence. A prominent example is from WWII when academic and students from the University of Munich started a movement called “die Weiße Rose”(The White Rose) in opposition to the Nazi party. In this instance the white rose represented purity opposing the cruelty and evil of Nazi regime.

The most enduring philosophical and political adoption of the rose started in the mid-1800s with the advent of socialism. The red rose subsequently represented socialism and the colour red communism. In post-WWII, the red rose became a political logo for socialist and social-democrat political parties. The visuals of the logo were a red rose in a fist and adopted by Socialist International, the French Socialist Party, and since the 1980s, the British Labour Party replaced its historic red flag logo with a red rose.

Finally, the symbolism of the rose would be incomplete without its place in mythology as representing secrecy. Indeed, Venus was known for her indiscretions, it is said that Cupid gave Harpocrates, the Greek god of silence, a rose asking him to be discrete about Venus’s indiscretions… A god of silence—what a valuable role he should have played in the firmament!

(I could not stop thinking that the name Harpo, the unspoken third Marx brother, came from Harpocrates. I searched the Internet for confirmation, but it seems that he was given that name when he played the harp at the Orpheum Theatre in Galesburg, Illinois.)

Today, we call that “sub rosa” as “under the rose” when we behave like Harpocrates.

So, what should I say to my friend in Belgium? That I still do not know why the rose was important to Bécaud? That I do not write, nor take photos, adhering to impressionism?

Or, that perhaps I do so sub rosa as in this photo I took in Oslo, Norway....



 

July 17, 2021

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2021

Wednesday, July 7, 2021

He Played “Szomorú Vasárnap”



 




The window was open

Like a door to walk through

 

The lilac bush was all bloom

But without the aroma

Of blooms he once knew

 

The teeth of a hippo

Made the piano clavier

But not the sadness

When he touched the “la”

 

It all ends

In Pure Minor

With an E

And three semitones

With no scales to remember

 

But it was not Sunday yet

And the window looked over a field

Of coquelicot

Fearing the slightest wind

That will make them shiver

Like unspoken words


¡Trste domingo!

 

July 7, 2021

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2021