An unusual take on Blake’s visions, in this case as the inspiration for trance music: http://bit.ly/gbYrgG
Another review of performance by Esperanza Spalding, whose repertoire includes Blake’s “Little Fly”: http://bit.ly/g3mlcX
New novel by Cincinnati author, Jacki Lyon, takes themes from Blake’s work: http://bit.ly/gNBafU
An article on the Blake-quoting series, The Mentalist: http://www.avclub.com/articles/the-mentalist,52263/
Allen Gardner Dance Theater presents Separation, based on Milton’s Paradise Lost via Blake’s illustrations: http://bit.ly/euXO4b
Bunhill Fields (where William Blake is buried) has recently been named a Grade 1 park. http://tinyurl.com/4dk8c65
Oathe13 Embracing Calthalendula, 2011
Conceptual Artist/Model: Tommy Mayberry
Photographic Artist: Tina Weltz, MPA, LPPO
Hair and Make-up Artist: Jessica Barber
Note: This work is part of my in-progress Master of Arts Thesis in English and Cultural Studies at McMaster University (Hamilton, Ontario, Canada) under the supervision of Dr. Jeffery Donaldson. For this project, I am re-visioning Blake’s Visions of the Daughters of Albion as a visual book (Visions2011) combining creative prose with studio photography to explore contemporary cultural contentions of Blake’s Visions in a dually creative/scholarly manner.
I slowly reach out my right hand and sweep my fingertips along Calthalendula’s golden petals. As I pull my hand back in toward me, it follows its motion and rises from the mud on its powerful stem. Growing nearer to my face, I cup its head in my right hand and grasp its stalk with my left. With both of my hands embracing it, subtle shoots emerge from the ground and wind themselves softly up my body.
We are becoming one, Calthalendula and I. Its roots hug me tighter, and when I feel that I could no longer pull away had I wanted to, the centre of Calthalendula’s blossom opens. A hot glow radiates from it unto me, resting on my face, shoulders, and between my breasts. The intensity of its light consumes me until I can no longer see again and feel anything but its fire. A comfortable cool settles on my skin, and I open my eyes to see that Calthalendula has left me. I am now clothed, but alone again.
Yet you are not, Calthalendula’s voice whispers to me from inside me.”
In my re-visioning of Blake’s Visions of the Daughters of Albion, I have inverted the genders of Oothoon and Bromion so that the heroine of Blake’s poem becomes the hero in mine as he, following this scene here, flies off to be with his (male) lover, but, on that journey, falls victim to his (female) rapist. As I have shifted the axes core to Visions, Oathe13 Embracing Calthalendula, too, follows in this oppositional vein as it counters the gender, sunlight, and angles of Blake’s “The Argument” plate so that, intervisually, it becomes a near-perfect mirror refraction. S. Foster Damon, in his A Blake Dictionary, writes that “[t]he Marygold (marigold) symbolizes the first experiment with sex [as t]he plucking of a flower is an ancient symbol for sexual experience” (265), and Northrop Frye, in his Fearful Symmetry, notes that “Oothoon has ‘pluck’d the flower’ of imaginative experience and has entered the state of innocence” (238). In my re-vision, Oathe13 (my male Oothoon character) embraces his “marigold” (named Calthalendula) to do just the same: awaken the powers of [sexual] exploration within him (Damon 265). Leopold Damrosch Jr., in his Symbol and Truth in Blake’s Myth, writes that, in Visions, “Leutha’s vale had been the place of sexual initiation” (217), and while not given in the illustrated snippet of text from my visual book above, Calthalendula, upon initially meeting Oathe13, tells him, “[w]e are in Leutha. In the Land of Visions.”
A great deal of botanical scholarship in relation to Blake’s Visions fuels the conceptuality of this piece as well, for “[b]otany was a radical and sexualized discourse in the 1790s” (Bernath Walker). In her paper “‘In What Gardens Do Joys Grow?’: Queer Botanizing in Blake’s Visions, Wollstonecraft’s Vindication, and Darwin’s Botanic Garden,” Elizabeth Bernath Walker notes that “Blake was one of the engravers who worked on [Darwin’s The Botanic Garden],” and that “[t]he influence of Darwin’s personification [of plants and plant ‘sex’] is evident in the opening prosopopoeia of Visions where Oothoon wanders in the vales of Leutha and comes upon a talking flower, an anthropomorphized marigold symbolizing the spirit of female sexuality.” She explains that there are “two discrete genera” for the common floral name marigold (the Caltha palustris – the marsh marigold – and the Calendula officinalis – the pot marigold) and that both are in Darwin’s text. Noting that “critical opinion is divided as to which genus Blake was referencing,” Bernath Walker explores the evidence on either camp revealing that David Worrall advocates for the pot marigold “based on the beams of light that Leutha’s marigold emits” (as Darwin references Calendula officinalis as emitting sparks) while Anne K. Mellor and Richard Matlak annotate the marigold in Visions as “caltha palustris, commonly called mayflower, a symbol of fertility in May Day festivals” (294). Bernath Walker ultimately suggests – although, in her paper, she primarily considers it the pot marigold – that it is “likely that both Calendula and Caltha contribute meaning to Blake’s text.” For my marigold, I merged the two possible genera into one überflower to encompass the cultural connotations of both possibilities. I dubbed it, appropriately, Calthalendula (a linguistic splicing of the two). My Calthalendula still emits light (recalling its half-namesake Calendula officinalis), for, as Morris Eaves, Robert N. Essick, and Joseph Viscomi note in their Introduction to Visions, “[o]ne thin line of radiance etched on the plate extends from the right-most marigold, but the other three shafts of light make it clear that they are all part of a sunrise” (237), yet it also retains the fertile connections to Caltha palustris.
These fertile and feminine connections and connotations are vitally interesting in my piece, for the schools of scholarship (very aptly so, given Oothoon’s female identity in Visions) all centre on the inherent femininity of her act. Sheila A. Spector, in her “Glorious Incomprehensible,” writes that “the action initiated by Oothoon’s choice to pluck Leutha’s flower encompasses the full range of female archetypes from virgin and mother to whore” (72 – emphasis mine). Furthermore, “Oothoon’s plucking of the flower strongly suggests the similar fatal act of Persephone” (Damon 265), and “[b]oth stories [Oothoon’s and Persephone’s] suggest at least a metonymic connection between the acts of literal and metaphoric ‘deflowering’” (Eaves et al. 230). How, though, does an act of deflowering – literal and/or metaphoric – translate into male actions? If males are traditionally, and even anatomically, the deflowerers (as is), can they maintain their masculinities in becoming deflowered themselves? Or do they, in essence, become somewhat hermaphroditic? Tony Rosso, in his paper “The Last Strumpet: Harlotry and Hermaphrodism in Blake’s Rahab,” says that “[h]ermaphrodism isn’t necessarily a merging of genitalia so much as a monstrous merging in general,” and that “Blake interprets hermaphrodism as merging the Male and Female as required to achieve the perfect form.” John Middleton Murray, in his Note on Blake’s Visions, writes that Male and Female being one (as in the Bible story), “rather than the freedom of Oothoon, is Blake’s final answer to the riddle of sex” (21). The current prognosis of my Thesis is to find that “perfect form” within Blake’s Visions through my queering of it, and this piece, Oathe13 Embracing Calthalendula, begins that divining.
Bernath Walker, Elizabeth. “‘In What Gardens Do Joys Grow?’: Queer Botanizing in Blake’s Visions, Wollstonecraft’s Vindication, and Darwin’s Botanic Garden.” Blake, Gender and Sexuality in the Twenty-First Century [The Sexy Blake Conference]. 15 July 2010.
Blake, Gender and Sexuality in the Twenty-First Century [The Sexy Blake Conference]. The Christopher Room, St. Aldate’s Church, Oxford, UK. 15-16 July 2010.
Blake, William. “The Argument.” Visions of the Daughters of Albion Plate 3. Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts. William Blake: The Early Illuminated Books. Eds. Morris Eaves, Robert N. Essick, and Joseph Viscomi. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1998. 247. Print.
Damon, S. Foster. A Blake Dictionary: The Ideas and Symbols of William Blake. Rev. ed. Lebanon, NH: UP of New England, 1988. Print.
Damrosch, Leopold, Jr. Symbol and Truth in Blake’s Myth. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1980. Print.
Eaves, Morris, Robert N. Essick, and Joseph Viscomi. Introducion [to Visions of the Daughters of Albion]. The Early Illuminated Books. By William Blake. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1998. 225-42. Print.
Frye, Northrop. Fearful Symmetry: A Study of William Blake. Ed. Nicholas Halmi. Collected Works of Northrop Frye. Vol. 14. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 2004. Print.
Mellor, Anne K. and Richard Matlak, eds. British Literature: 1780-1830. Boston, MA: Heinle & Heinle, 1996. Print.
Middleton Murray, John, “A Note of William Blake’s Visions of the Daughters of Albion.” Visions of the Daughters of Albion. By William Blake. London, UK: Temple P Letchwork, 1932. 11-25. Print.
Rosso, Tony. “The Last Strumpet: Harlotry and Hermaphrodism in Blake’s Rahab.” Blake, Gender and Sexuality in the Twenty-First Century [The Sexy Blake Confernece]. 16 July 2010.
Spector, Sheila A. “Glorious Incomprehensible”: The Development of Blake’s Kabbalistic Language. Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell UP, 2001. Print.
Article on Icelandic sculptor Einar Jónsson, whose work reminds the reviewer of William Blake: http://bit.ly/fwPwAY
Morrison, ‘An American Poet’, and ‘English Blake’ are popularly espoused as voices of their nations. Both saw themselves as prophets, claiming at least to comment on and at most to influence the political and cultural events surrounding them. As part of their prophetic personae, they both invented new lineages for themselves, mystically adopting chosen ancestors that would tie them tightly to the kind of historical and creative inheritance they wanted for themselves and their countries.
Morrison tells a powerful memory of childhood trauma in ‘Dawn’s Highway’, one of the poems he recorded on his last birthday (it was put to music by the surviving Doors on An American Prayer):
Me and my – ah – mother and father – and a grandmother and a grandfather – were driving through the desert, at dawn, and a truckload of Indian workers had either hit another car, or just – I don’t know what happened – but there were Indians scattered all over the highway, bleeding to death.
So the car pulls up and stops. That was the first time I tasted fear. I musta been about four – like a child is like a flower, his head is just floating in the breeze, man.
The reaction I get now thinking about it, looking back – is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead Indians… maybe one or two of ’em… were just running around freaking out, and just leaped into my soul. And they’re still in there.
Morrison’s personal mythology here is an attempt to attach himself to the shamanic traditions of native Americans, and also to opt for a more ‘authentic’ American identity than the one of oppressive white power that his biological lineage dictates (considering his father was an admiral in the US Navy, and very much involved in Vietnam).
In Milton, Blake describes becoming one with John Milton, Britain’s most imposing national poet:
The first I saw him in the Zenith as a falling star,
Descending perpendicular, swift as the swallow or swift;
And on my left foot falling on the tarsus enterd there;
But from my left foot a black cloud redounding spread over Europe
Milton had used his writing talents to support the English Revolution (including defending the regicide), and suffered for holding to his beliefs in the Restoration. Blake is asserting radical political authority as well as literary prowess by identifying with Milton.
Blake’s possession by Milton apparently has wide repercussions (‘spread over Europe’ – like Morrison, Blake is writing in wartime). The most conspicuous appearance of Morrison’s recurring lines, ‘Indians scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding / Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile eggshell mind’, is in ‘Peace Frog’ on Morrison Hotel, a prophetic, apocalyptic song with its own specific geography: ‘Blood on the streets / in the town of New Haven’, where Morrison had become the first rock star to be arrested on stage (as Fong-Torres notes, p. 112). Like Blake, he takes elements from his own biography and mythologizes them on a global and cosmic scale. And like Blake he creates catalogues of places to illustrate the national reach of his prophecy: ‘Blood in the streets / of the town of Chicago’, ‘Blood stains the roofs / and the palm trees of Venice’, ‘The Bloody red sun / of phantastic L.A.’. In such a visionary city, he combines literal and figurative geography: ‘blood on the streets / runs a river of sadness’, and most remarkably, ‘The river runs red down / the legs of the city’, recalling Blake’s imagery of birth trauma and miscarriage (in Morrison’s notebook these verses were titled ‘Abortion Stories’, according to Jerry Hopkins in The Lizard King, p. 129). Compare also the ‘unborn living living dead’ of ‘The Unknown Soldier’, and
to the river
in ‘The Soft Parade’. However, the lines could also suggest loss of virginity (which has revolutionary force in the case of Orc and the Nameless Shadowy Female in the Preludium to America); or menstruation as the simultaneous potential of fertility and infertility, life and death; or indeed human sacrifice as practiced by women in Jerusalem. ‘Blood hath staind her fair side beneath her bosom’ (Jerusalem 67:43) in the extended narrative of the Daughters of Albion ‘drunk with blood’ (Jerusalem 68:12), while for Morrison the blood is also the woman’s as victim:
Blood! screams her brain
as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born
in the birth of a Nation
These lyrics are juxtaposed with a parallel set dominated by the repeated line ‘She came’: female orgasm is apocalyptic and violent for Morrison as it is for Blake at the end of The Song of Los, where
The Grave shrieks with delight, & shakes
Her hollow womb, & clasps the solid stem:
Her bosom swells with wild desire:
And milk & blood & glandous wine
In rivers rush & shout & dance,
On mountain, dale and plain (7:35-40)
In ‘Peace Frog’, and more clearly in ‘L. A. Woman’, Morrison also creates ‘a City yet a Woman’ (Four Zoas, Night IX:223) as Blake does in the figure of Jerusalem, with a kind personification which perceives both simultaneously – ‘I see your hair is burning / Hills are filled with fire’ – and mixes both, blurring external and internal – ‘Drive through your suburbs / Into your blues’. (Note how personification is used toward social commentary: the suburbs are a direct route to depression.) They draw on a collective origin in Biblical prophecy, and partake of its depiction of Israel as a combination of innocent wife and abandoned harlot: ‘Are you a lucky little lady in the city of light? / Or just another lost angel’. Like Blake’s persecuted Jerusalem, ‘Never saw a woman so alone’. (Oothoon also, as rejected but righteous harlot / wife, and as ‘the soft soul of America’ (Visions of the Daughters of Albion 1:3), is a precursor of ‘L. A. Woman’.)
Both Blake and Morrison proceed from this kind of imagery to imagery of male power: as in Blake the call, ‘Awake! Awake Jerusalem! O lovely Emanation of Albion / Awake and overspread all Nations as in Ancient Time’ (Jerusalem 97:1) leads to the predominantly phallic imagery of Albion’s awakening and reuniting with the Zoas, Morrison also moves from the L. A. Woman to the combination of resurrection and erection in his anagram, ‘Mr. Mojo Risin / Got to keep on risin’ / Risin’, risin”. Morrison sings, ‘L. A. Woman, you’re my woman’, while for Blake Albion’s rising also is catalyzed by union with the feminine personification of nation: ‘England who is Brittannia’, who is also Jerusalem, ‘enterd Albions bosom rejoicing’ (Jerusalem 95:22, 32:28). Morrison once said, ‘Los Angeles is a city looking for a ritual to join its fragments, and the Doors are looking for a ritual also. A kind of electric wedding’ (quoted by Federica Pudva, p. 133), like the ones evoked by Blake at the end of Jerusalem, and in the title of The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.
In her essay on Morrison and Blake, Federica Pudva points out that ‘London was for Blake a real city and at the same time a spiritual and symbolic reality, part of a broad divine vision’ while in Morrison’s vision, Los Angeles was ‘the umbilicus of the world’ and a microcosm of fragmented modern society (p. 132-3, my translation). Morrison called Los Angeles a ‘”genetic blue-print” for the United States’ (Lizard King p. 301). In a poem, ‘The Guided Tour’, he writes,
“I am a guide to the labyrinth”
city is inside of body made manifest
meat organs & electrical
power plants (American Night p. 143)
reminiscent, in reverse, of Los searching ‘the interiors of Albions / Bosom’, which involves coming ‘down from Highgate thro Hackney & Holloway towards London’ (Jerusalem 45:3-4,14). Though the alienated modern city in Morrison owes much to Baudelaire and, as William Cook examines in detail, T. S. Eliot, Pudva finds that Morrison’s flâneur-like observation of prostitution in the city in his poem The Lords – ‘a ring of death with sex at its centre’ – is rooted in Blake’s ‘midnight streets’ and ‘Harlot’s curse’ in ‘London’ (p. 127-8).
We might see Morrison grasping more than content in the Songs if we take ‘People are Strange’ as commenting on the contingent voice of Songs of Experience and playing with the use of persona it offers.
People are strange
When you’re a stranger
Faces look ugly
When you’re alone
emphasizes the kind of interior realities which may contribute to the compulsion of the speaker in ‘London’ to ‘mark in every face I meet / Marks of weakness, marks of woe’. ‘Women seem wicked / When you’re unwanted’ distils the combination of blame and pity in the ‘Harlot’s curse’ seen as infecting the city and blighting both birth and marriage with death. ‘Faces come out of the rain / When you’re strange’ is like the fragmentation of faces and voices without bodies in ‘London’, and ‘Streets are uneven / When you’re down’ is a direct statement on psychogeography. If the song was inspired by an enlightening Laurel Canyon sunrise, as Robby Krieger narrates (in Fong-Torres 95-6), then it is located (or projected) on Morrison’s home territory as ‘London’ is on Blake’s.
Cook, William. ‘Jim Morrison: A “Serious Poet”?’ Literary Kicks: Opinions, Observations and Research. 12 July 2003. http://www.litkicks.com/JamesDouglasMorrison
Fong-Torres, Ben, and the Doors. The Doors. New York: Hyperion, 2006.
Hopkins, Jerry. The Lizard King: The Essential Jim Morrison. Revised and Updated. London: Plexus, 2006.
Pudva, Federica. ‘The Devil’s Party: Jim Morrison e William Blake’ Anglistica Pisana 2:1 (2005) 119-37.
Interview with US laureate poet W.S. Merwin who counts William Blake as one of his inspirations: http://bit.ly/grhP96