In an earlier post, where I listed our Travel Pursuits plans for 2013, I included a thumbnail image of Edouard Manet’s Le Déjeuner sur L’Herbe (1863) to represent our Belle Epoque trip to Paris.
Almost immediately, I received this lovely poem from Kathleen Kirk in Normal, IL.
Woman in the Water
I am the woman in the water
wading in the background
still wearing my white undergarments,
strap falling forward as I bend
to reveal the white curve of my shoulder.
She is entirely naked,
sitting with the men,
looking straight at you,
her elbow resting on her thigh,
her upper arm obscuring the rosehips of her nipples
but revealing the full rounds of her breasts.
You will meet her eye, yes,
but you will be drawn to me,
bent forward, my right hand skimming the water,
my left, clutching the muslin,
hand spread wide
to focus your gaze
upon my modesty.
One day you will come to love me.
That is the day you will see
how the curve of my body
repeats the basket, tipped on the ground,
spilling its fruit—peaches, cherries, plums—
on our discarded hats and gowns,
on the green leaves
spattered with sun and shadow.
[published in Ekphrasis, Fall/Winter 2005]
Several days later, I went to a Picasso exhibit in Toronto where I stumbled on this. Le Déjeuner sur l’Herbe, after Manet (1961).
Inspiration is everywhere, a conscious and unconscious burst of creativity in a literary, musical, or other artistic endeavour. Literally, the word means “breathed upon,” and it has its origins in both Hellenism and Hebraism.
One more example from my recent wanderings. Debussy’s Nocturnes were inspired by a series of impressionist paintings, also entitled Nocturnes by James Abbott McNeill Whistler. Have a listen.
My thoughtlette for the day: Thanks be for inspiration. Originality is not only overrated; it is a fiction.
At age, 18, during my first trip to Europe, I entered the medieval church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin and immediately thought of the opening bars of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. Can you guess why? Of course, one did not inspire the other, but my mind was inspired by the rhythm of the church nave to conjure perhaps the most recognizable first four notes of any symphony.
I better stop.
Have you ever experienced a chain of inspiration? Or felt a ‘click’ of connection between different forms of art? I would love to hear your about your experiences. So would others.