Theory and Play Of The Duende
"The angel guides and grants, like St. Raphael: defends and spares, like St. Michael: proclaims and forewarns, like St. Gabriel.
The angel dazzles, but flies over a man’s head, high above, shedding its grace, and the man realises his work, or his charm, or his dance effortlessly. The angel on the road to Damascus, and that which entered through the cracks in the little balcony at Assisi, or the one that followed in Heinrich Suso’s footsteps, create order, and there is no way to oppose their light, since they beat their wings of steel in an atmosphere of predestination.
The Muse dictates, and occasionally prompts. She can do relatively little since she’s distant and so tired (I’ve seen her twice) that you’d think her heart half marble. Muse poets hear voices and don’t know where they’re from, but they’re from the Muse who inspires them and sometimes makes her meal of them, as in the case of Apollinaire, a great poet destroyed by the terrifying Muse, next to whom the divine angelic Rousseau once painted him.
The Muse stirs the intellect, bringing a landscape of columns and an illusory taste of laurel, and intellect is often poetry’s enemy, since it limits too much, since it lifts the poet into the bondage of aristocratic fineness, where he forgets that he might be eaten, suddenly, by ants, or that a huge arsenical lobster might fall on his head – things against which the Muses who inhabit monocles, or the roses of lukewarm lacquer in a tiny salon, have no power.
Angel and Muse come from outside us: the angel brings light, the Muse form (Hesiod learnt from her). Golden bread or fold of tunic, it is her norm that the poet receives in his laurel grove. While the duende has to be roused from the furthest habitations of the blood.
Reject the angel, and give the Muse a kick, and forget our fear of the scent of violets that eighteenth century poetry breathes out, and of the great telescope in whose lenses the Muse, made ill by limitation, sleeps.
The true struggle is with the duende."
*image - panning for gold, Western Pokot, Kenya
We are settling in to our new digs and finally getting around to catching up on the HUGE backlog on the to do list!
The camera, along with nearly everything else, has been a casualty of the chaos this past 6 weeks. We have been living in a bit of a construction zone (still are, a bit), but after 6 years of constant moving it is awfully nice to be home.
Here is some of what we captured by phone!
So we are staying in our wee village for the long term, it seems. After 6 years of moving, four continents, buckets of travel, and a whole lot of air miles we are in the process of buying a house overlooking my beloved harbour. In 9 days we move into our 110 year old homestead and start warming it up with the chaos that is our family. There will be a fair amount of work to be done but nothing mission critical, just bits and bobs to make the dear old lady ready for the hustle and bustle of our brood. Forgive mountains of house photographs and endless before:after posts over the coming months.
I was honoured to have the opportunity to do a bit more photography work for the supremely talented Big Little. I always love the opportunity to photograph things that I love but I have to say I have an especially soft spot for these lovely items. Firstly they are often made from beautiful recycled wool blankets, and in the blustery South Island winter there is nothing like wool, and secondly they are so beautifully made. As the mother of a rather dapper 9 year old son I find that it is really difficult to find items that fit him, suit the weather, AND conform to his unique sense of style (and flare for adventure). So many boy clothes seem to be little more than heavily branded, and boring, small versions of your average university wardrobe. Big Little gets boys JUST right.
The focus isn't only boy clothes, thankfully, ad Clementine once again had the chance to do a bit of modeling woolly goodness. She is wearing a Big Little vest from images I took last season but also donning two new items. She adores her pixie hat (wears it EVERYWHERE) and with the Antarctic breezes blowing in off the harbour she doesn't even get out of bed without her slippers.
In addition to garments I photographed a new item as well - beautiful felt and embroidered ipad/tablet covers. The simple product images are yet to come but as we were all headed to the beach and we almost always have a tablet it seemed to make sense to give them a whirl as well! They are so cozy. While I love the convenience of tablets I am not a huge fan of the idea of a portable screen (I am already too attached to my phone!) . That said a cozy, woolly, exterior makes it seem a little less cold, no?
Any any opportunity to get my sweet 11 year old , Little Bird, in front of my lens is a win.
So whether you are in the Northern Hemisphere or the Southern - put on your woolens , or your sunblock, and head outside! xo