A Beautiful Chameleon - An Icon of Transformation.

Transformation of self is a profound journey as I explored in "The Little Mermaid" blog. It is a deeply spiritual one, in which letting go of one identity and transforming into another expands our souls experience of life. In the mermaids journey that morphs from mermaid to human, from foam on the sea to air, and thus to a soul. However, why then do I write this in conjunction with a supermodel of the 90's called Linda Evangelista ?. That is a fair question, and many would say something of a stretch. I understand that, but it is change that captivates me.

An iconic identity is fixed. It must be permanent, not transient, to convey power. Think of iconic figures in history we can define simply by a 'look' that is maintained over many years: Jesus Christ, Marilyn Monroe, Winston Churchill, The Queen of England, Anna Wintour, James Dean, Jackie Onassis and Jennifer Aniston to name a few. We instantly recognize those visual elements that define them. When Hillary Clinton kept changing her hairstyle it caused confusion. We like our images of power to remain the same unchanging. Queen Elizabeth 1 of England knew that well enough in her creation of the 'Virgin Queen".

Hollywood icons were created, molded and once their 'look' was established and proved successful with audiences they kept it. Rita Hayworth is a great example. A dark haired Spanish woman with a low forehead. The hair was dyed red,  eyebrows thinned and shaped. Electrolysis to create a new and improved hair line and acquired a new name. Once the studio completed its job we believed the image was real. We are meant to believe it. She became an archetype of female beauty along with Monroe and many others.

In the same vein a fashion a models 'look' becomes her trade mark. Cindy Crawford has great hair and a mole. Claudia is the Bardot blond bombshell. Christie Brinkley the eternally healthy California beach girl. They tweak their 'look' but never radically alter it. That is bad for the brand identity, no different to Coca Cola suddenly tasting of cherries.

However, with the advent of Madonna, Cindy Sherman and Linda Evangelista in the late 80's these women in their respective fields, Music, Art and Fashion, took the idea of branded identities of female archetypes by the balls and up ended them.

They revealed the manipulation of images of self to gain power. Madonna in 'Vogue" sings about it. Cindy Sherman looks to art history to explore female identity in history and film. And, Linda radically altered her look from every length, every color and became every archetype of woman. The remarkable thing is that most would fear such radical changes of self.

But, she did not. Unlike her peers she subjugated her self and became another woman each season, while remaining entirely her self. Each incarnation being as beautiful as the next. She is and remains the Meryl Streep of models. That is recognized within the fashion industry. Her 'look' is a concept , not an appearance, her 'look' is change - The Chameleon.

She could be both androgynous and a stunning woman. We were convinced of both roles she played. Her pictures stand the test of time. A beautiful blond, a gorgeous red head , thick eye brows to no eye brows and all the time looking beautiful. She could shed her image as quickly as snake sheds its skin. I love that.

What fascinated me about her was that release of self. To just let go of a 'look' that defined her. That brought her power, through recognition that she set a new trend, and was ahead of her game. Once that trend had its grip on the public she let it go and moved on. But, with each shift her power grew.

My own identity shifts. To look at me people have assumed many things of me. What race am I being the main theme. I am not so easy to put in that box. As I traveled over the years my face is given a fresh identity depending on your social, cultural background and experience. It transforms not from trying to. Rather it is a multicultural 'look'. So, shifting perceptions of identity appeal to me as I live that reality daily.

It can be alienating to witness people holding tight to their learned cultural perceptions, which they project, onto another, that would be me, and decide who I am meant to be socially and racially. This is done without asking me. It is even more peculiar to be asked " what are you?"' when they are in doubt.

That question is asked so I can be classified and put in their 'box'. Boxes are very claustrophobic by the way, and am not good being placed in them. I just stand there and watch.

That is the connection to my fascination with Linda and the Mermaid. Life is transient. We are transient. We are in a perpetual state of change. Yet, we resist it, because we define our selves by a fixed image in our minds of who we are and what group that connects us to in the society we choose to live in. There are always options regarding the latter. We fear aging because of that as well.

On a deep level people are disturbed by radical physical change in others. It unsettles them. It makes some less certain of you are to them. They get used to seeing you in a certain way. They like to fix that in place. It is comfortable and they can trust it. That is why images of the powerful in history always remain static.

Madonna held our attention with endless changes of persona. Lady Gaga does the same within the realms of the avant garde. Linda was neither crude, nor crazy, her look was believable and always chic. The 'Look' became her and she became it. She embodied it. It did not wear her, ever.

I like to think of fashion as a deeply shallow business. It is not only selling you clothes. It sells you an identity to inhabit, or become, for as long you want it. Linda did not define herself by those terms, she was a muse to photogapher and designers. As an artist of self she had to let go of a visual definition of it.

The image above was taken this June 10th. She is 47 years old. A timeless beauty, ever changing and exploring the world of images of self. I love that visual journey she has taken me on these past twenty something years and she remains a fascination because of it. She has courage and she commits to the process of change. She has balls.

Spiritual journey's are often about evolving and letting go. That can be expressed in fashion and body types, that are built up at gyms, or weight lost and gained. On the one hand this can be deemed shallow, but on the other hand our body is an expression of a deeper journey. It is the vehicle which our soul inhabits after all. I love the physical world and beauty in all its forms. Our body and face is a reflection of our inner journey in life and we can express our inner transformations through it like a bare canvas. Next!.

Peace.

'The Little Mermaid' is a Big Fish in a small world.

I always dreamed of lying in the bathtub and finding my legs being transformed into a fish tail.That scene with Daryl Hannah in 'Splash' was fantasy come true. How often as a child did I long to find a mermaid in the ocean, or just be one.

'The Little Mermaid' by Hans Christian Anderson was published in 1836. It still resonates today. I loath the Disney version, as it turned the beauty of the narrative into pulp. Am sure you are all aware of this famous story of unrequited love. Yet, it deals with far greater themes in life.

Mermaids according to the original story live for three hundred years. But, they do not possess a soul. Humans on the other hand do. But, only live for ninety years at best. This is important information. So, don't forget it.

The little mermaid longs for the prince and an eternal soul. These two are inextricably entwined. In exchange for legs her tongue is sliced off. She is mute. To walk is agony. She has only one chance to gain a soul by receiving the love of the prince whom she rescued after his ship sank in a storm. However, on waking on the sand the prince thinks he was rescued by another human. The mermaid having to return to the sea, to seek the witch who would transform her identity.

If the prince loves her then in that first kiss his soul will flow into her body. However, the prince loves the woman he saw upon waking. A princess from another kingdom. And, mute, the mermaid is unable to express her love, or the sacrifice she made seeking it. A rather selfess act.

Her sisters appear one night as the mermaid heals the pain in her feet in the ocean. Their beautiful long hair has been cut off in exchange for a knife. She is told she must kill the prince or die. She cannot do it and dissolves as foam in the ocean from which she emerged.

The daughters of the air rescue her saying that she can become one of them because she strove with all her heart to gain an eternal soul. So, for three hundred years she did good deeds. She was the cool breeze that eased a mans journey across a desert and other such elusive poetic things. Only then would she rise up to the kingdom of God. And, so she did at last.

Disney does not mention the greater love she acquires. Nor does that version describe a spiritual journey that transforms the mermaid into an heroic seeker of 'Truth'. In that version she gets her man, a major yawn.

Hans Christian Anderson was fascinated by mutability and changes in identity. The mermaid figure defines that. She is drawn to the ineffable in life, the unknown, the forbidden in life, which her for is the land. Perhaps, for us that is a spiritual dimension as apposed to a religious one. She displays immense courage and sacrifice in order to explore the world beyond her own. In her loss she gains her eternal soul. In her loss she gains the world.

There is a little known part of the tale in which she dresses as a boy to horse back ride across the country with the prince. He disguises her as his page boy. Here the theme of gender transformation is used to highlight her desire to change in order to seek what she is looking for in life. The author was fascinated by such chameleon like abilities in order to experience the world in multifaceted ways.

As a child this idea of becoming something else resonated with me to blend and fit in. The mermaid existed between two worlds. I projected my self onto her journey. I drew that story over and over for many years. Understanding her was my way of understanding myself as a child. Being mixed race in a black and white orientated society served to highlight that. Sensing always that there existed an energy that transcended day to day reality was also apparent to me, even then. The mermaid is a lone figure , perplexed by her place in the world, mute and not heard. There is comfort in this story.The mermaid meets her destiny because she had the courage to leave the safety of the 'harbor'.

There is poem I read at nineteen by Rainer Maria Rilke, that I keep in my wallet to this day. It reminds me of the mermaids journey. I knew at nineteen it would be mine. It still speaks to me. Rilke was a bohemian Austrian poet, considered one of the greatest German poets. He focused on the difficulty to connect to the ineffable, the divine, in an age of disbelief and anxiety. The latter being quite familiar to us today with the political fear mongering we are subject to in the media.The poem is from the 'Duino Elegies' written between 1910-1919. It is called "Dove That Ventured Outside":

"Dove that ventured outside,  flying far from the dovecote:
housed and protected again,  one with the day, the night
knows what serenity is ,  for she has felt her wings
pass through all distance and fear   in the course of her wanderings

The doves that remained at home,  never exposed to loss,
innocent and secure,    cannot know tenderness:
only the won back heart    can ever be satisfied : free,
through all it has given up,   to rejoice in its mastery.

Being arches itself     over the vast abyss.
Ah the ball that we dared,   that we hurled into infinite space,
does'nt it fill our hands  differently with its return;
heavier by the weight   of where it has been."

This poem remains an endless revelation to me all these years later and the mermaid still touches my heart. It is a tale of transcendence and love opened the door to gain it. By the way, I still want a tail- splash!.

Peace


Edmund Dulac - 1882-1953.French artist.He illustrated 'The Little Mermaid'.

'Brideshead Revisited' shaped my dreams of love between men.

It is Gay Pride month. I was reflecting on my childhood as a result of news from home, that made me nostalgic for the past. Browsing through Netlfix I ran across 'Brideshead Revisted', adapted from Evelyn Waughs novel to screen. It was an eleven episode television blockbuster. It premiered in 1981. I was at school and fourteen years old.

I watched the first episode last night. I have not seen it in years. The theme music itself stirred long forgotten hopes of what love could be between men. This show shaped my vision of romantic love as a teenager. The idea that there was no hate, or prejudice to encounter was a wonder to me. But, the world of Brideshead was a fragile one. It is bygone era of British aristocracy and vast country estates. (Castle Howard/'Brideshead' pictured below)And, after the second World War it went into decline. They existed in peace, beauty and love. Their world was a fantasy and I wanted to melt into the screen all those years ago.Years pass and life happens. There is much beauty in life and there is much ugliness.

The first episode was called Et in Arcadia Ego, I am in Paradise, and by this episodes end my young heart was beating hard.  And, last night it beat once more. An echo from the past reverberating through me. Then, I longed for Oxford's dreaming spires, to be in those golden green fields of England, of palaces, art and beauty, and there would be a Sebastian, or Charles, at my side. It is odd to write these words years later and watch this show. It brings tears to my eyes. I went to Oxford because of 'Brideshead Revisited', because it meant love. It was indeed a beautiful city to live in as a young man. It was a unique privilege. This is Worcester College, Oxford (pictured above) I woke up with this view and returned home at night to it. I lived in the cottages on the right of the quad.

At the end of this first episode Charles says, "I felt a sense of liberation and peace such as I was to know years later (of this time with Sebastian)....... I believe myself very close to heaven during those languid days of Brideshead. It is thus I like to remember Sebastian, as he was that summer, when we wandered alone through that enchanted palace".

I have always found the concept of two images of strength, two men, becoming vulnerable to each other and falling into each other wildly beautiful. A spiritual connection.

What was once dormant is now awakened by chance, I now long for a 'languid summer' with someone I love. I still long for the romance this adaption revealed to me all those years ago. I look back at me at fourteen and watching this again, my old heart melts and I want my Arcadia. Life is short. Am very aware of that too this week. And, though this was only a novel adapted to the screen it molded my heart.

So, on this Gay Pride I thought of the parades, of people marching in all manner of outfits, of the dance clubs pumping music until dawn, and all types of partying going on, and doing so I celebrate everyone ones right to love and live out loud in pride. To do so free of hate and judgment would be a wonderful thing.

Episode One came to an end. The credits rolled and the haunting, yet romantic, theme music played with a vision of Brideshead resplendent at sunset, standing proudly before the world. I had been transported back to a long forgotten dream in my mind in which two men could love in beauty, and with a childlike innocence of an endless summer that never ends.

Peace

Day of the Living Dead..not a movie

There I was last night watching this zombie movie 'The Living Dead', or something like that, and rather enjoying the debacle on my flat screen. The 'Corporate Titan', played by Dennis Hopper, ruled the enclosed city, full of the 'right' people. The latter being rich, and decidedly not zombies!. It cost a lot to live in the glass fortress, akin to a gated community, only it was a skyscraper towering over the remains of a once thriving city. It was strangely reminiscent of a shopping mall. I hate shopping malls, so I was not that impressed. Naturally, the 'Corporate Titan' who controlled everything lived in the penthouse.

While watching the movie I began to feel an odd sensation. This all felt so familiar. But, I did not see flesh eating zombies last week about town that I am certain of. I continued with the movie. The fireworks distracted the zombies from their endless pursuit of flesh, so that non zombies could get the stuff they wanted to survive and be protected from said zombies. Zombies really are easy to entertain it transpires and fireworks are so cheap.The flesh could never satisfy them.They always want more and more and consume endlessly, greedy bastards!.

Damn, there it was again, I have most certainly witnessed something like that, but where for heavens sake?.In some nightmare?. No, not a nightmare. It will come to me. Suddenly, shots were fired. It was the private army recruited to keep the zombies out of the gated city. There was no need for police to maintain order within the zombie community. They were passed caring for anyway. The job was to protect the Corporate Titan and those who paid him to live in his protected glass house. This was exciting stuff, heads blown off, screaming, and a few nail biting chases.

Then it hit me. This was not a horror movie, this was documentary about life today. I remembered images of Occupy Wall St's peaceful demonstrations being blasted with pepper spray and innocent people arrested for expressing a right to protest by police, who have since been challenged by the UN for their undemocratic behavior toward citizens. In this case the police behaved like zombies doing their masters bidding.

Then again the likes of Snooki, Kim Kardasian, Bristol Palin saying she is a 'born again virgin' (yawn), any opinion emitting from Fox 'news' and all the other clap trap we are bombarded with are in fact like the fireworks that distracted the zombies in this movie I was watching.

Oh Lord, so am I a zombie now?,Yikes!, I thought during a commercial break. The ads were great. Endless stuff to consume that I did not need, but wanted after seeing these ads. Lets face it after consuming them I would want more, right?. Then there was a text about meeting a friend who had to have that new apple computer and that new jacket from Prada, or was it H& M, who knows!, who cares?, just get it. What next? oh yes, our endless quest to be thinner, bigger, and younger. And right when you need to achieve these goals there is that reliable pharmaceutical company selling drugs that help you gain 'control' (translation= the drugs and the pharmaceutical company would actually take control of your life, along,with that floride in toothpaste and water to dull your brain) of your life and achieve them. The irony beats me. There is so much to do, achieve, wear, become and have and yet, somehow none of it really seems to satisfy any of us does it.

Oh dear, it seems like being a zombie really is quiet easy. You just go shopping for 'flesh',  and enjoy the pretty 'fireworks', that make a lot of noise ( like a lot of tv/media/news/ Glenn Beck/ Religious bigots etc...am biased ok..:) ,need I say more??). But, the following day we are at it again, I mean shopping, for more 'flesh'. In fact, we consume each other to, never quite satisfied and wanting more of this and that. Then there are self help books that point out obvious things, which people savor as though the cliched platitudes were wisdom itself.

The odd thing is it took a long time for the zombies in the movie to notice that glass building and that Corporate Titan, who controlled those fireworks, who decided who was good enough to live in his glass city protected by an armed force. But, at some point one enlightened zombie did notice that skyscraper and the fireworks that fascinated his fellow zombies. And ruined everything for a few at the top of the food chain.

As I settled back into the movie after the commercial breaks, which seemed endless by the way. The glass city was over run, the police force crumpled and the everyone was screaming all over again. At some point order was restored. But, the world looked different and each group went on its way to find some better life.

My what an exhausting movie. I just wanted to be scared!. However, the only scary thing is this was less a horror movie and more of  reality one encounters daily while reading Huffington Post over my required two morning cups of coffee. As a result of this revelation I am on my third cup!.


Peace

An empty glass of water and the ocean...

I know, an empty glass of water, and what of it ?. It is nothing really. It is a clear liquid. It has no expression. It is still. I do not love drinking water, in fact I seldom do. I ignore that 8 liters of it per day routine. What fresh hell is this?, comes to mind. I mean, there is water in coffee for heavens sake.

However, am looking at this glass of water and it is the same stuff that comprises the sea, adding the salt. And what of it ? I ask for the second time. I love the sea and looking at the ocean. The rhythmic waves beating on the shore. The ever changing moods of the sky and sea from dawn to dusk. The color of the water mirroring the sky, and the sun's' light glinting on the surface.

The sea has inspired poets, artists, and writers of song and verse. My fascination with mermaids as child inspired many walks along the beach on Sussex hoping to glimpse one. It is the source of life.

What I love about the sea is that it is nothing but clear water, and yet it is everything. Before it one feels the presence of God, Nature, we feel our mortality, we know our real place in the scheme of life and that is very small indeed. It is humbling to stare into its majesty. It reduces our petty vanities, squabbles big and small to nothing. It brings peace.(The painting is by Kasper Carl Friedrich, 'A Monk by the Sea').

I think we project our selves onto this clear surface devoid of any identity whatsoever. We give it personalities it does not have intrinsically. We find our self's reflected back at us. It is both serene and beautiful and fiercely destructive. It is like us. In my blog 'A Noticeable Nobody', I was talking about letting go of the story of self and finding ones actual self. That in nothing there is a something, if one loses the fear of letting go of fairy tales. The sea is a very visible nothing. It both a clear colorless liquid, ever changing and yet it is full of history, life and beauty. It is a paradox. It is human in that sense.

When I look at the sea all things seem to make sense. I feel an unspoken rhythm in life. I see my self, a projection. I see the silent beauty of life, and that I am only Natures guest.

Peace

A Noticable Nobody....and that's a good thing!

http://www.ted.com/talks/thandie_newton_embracing_otherness_embracing_myself.html?source=email#.T9aUkxMSzg3.email

I was very inspired by the actress Thandie Newton's talk on "Embracing the Self", a theme she was asked to discuss at the TED conference. I have attached a link to that lecture. I hope you will watch this video and find out what it means to you and that 'self' you have carried around within you all these years.

I have written before that I was bullied at school for being different. As Thandie says embracing her self required embracing her 'otherness'. That I understand. In order for me to find self acceptance I had accept my own otherness. Yet, it is that 'otherness' which created my shame, because as a result I did not fit in. I was not popular, and therefore not a success in life on those terms.

Yet, we are born with no idea of self. There is not yet a story we are attached to that defines it. We learn what it is from the projections of others. These projections of our self become facts for who we are in society. It is how we learn to navigate life. Those that do fit into that societies norms will be succussful within it, so long as their self remains within that projection. You cannot climb to success or popularity easily if you are of the perceived 'other'. It also takes a unique individual to love and stand by one who is of the 'other' in life. This I do know well personally, but I was blessed to grow up with two parents who were those strong people who could do that.

I did experience a continuous rejection of my self. I came to realize that having that 'self' annihilated daily was in end liberating. I was not  bound by others projections of me, nor did they define me. In a solitary place I was free to be me. My 'otherness' had always been a powerful tool, only that I was not mature enough to recognize it.

Letting go of ones story of 'self' is frightening. I found I could loose my self in art growing up in the face of the rejection of self I experienced in life. I had control of that narrative. I could be me in that narrative. I would draw The Little Mermaid (not the ghastly Disney version, the beautiful Hans Cristian Anderson version), unicorns, and horses endlessly. It was in those intense creative moments that I would loose my self entirely. I was no longer conscious of my separateness. I was whole in the moment of creation. I visited monasteries and nunneries and found that those individuals sacrificed their secular identity to become one with God did not lose their self's, rather those self's became more distinct.

We bombarded by ideas of self in magazines and films. There are a million images of self's we want to inhabit in life in order to project an idea of who we are on others. We create self's to be loved, to make money, to get what we want from life and realize our ambitions. This is a vast industry. What would it be to let go of these projections ?.

I liken it to jumping of a cliff. It is scary, but when you jump you will land. Gravity is liked that. However, the terrain wil be at first unknown then familiar and there will always be challenges ahead regardless of the terrain in which you land

I loved Thandie's expression of recognizing "somebody in nobody" and of being a "noticeable nobody'. I think we are all the latter. And, sometimes we meet a nobody who is a somebody if we are lucky. That person might also be you, if you let go of your self and find out.

Peace.


Footnote: The painting is by Rene Magritte. It is called La Reproduction Interdit ( Not to be Reproduced ), dated 1937