Human Adornment: Photography of Hans Silvester

I received two messages yesterday that juxtaposed themselves in an interesting way. One was a video of images by photographer Hans Silvester, who has collected pictures of the Omo and other African people, in books such as Natural Fashion: Tribal Decoration from Africa. The other was the poem here, by John Caddy, of the Morning Earth website, accompanied by this photo of a gorgeously adorned webworm, the natural kind.

Of all the images I've seen in my life of human adornment, I find those by Silvester to be the most intriguing and beautiful – not least because the humans here seem to show such a profound connection with and appreciation for the natural world. At the same time, such pictures make me somewhat uncomfortable, as they so clearly objectify those resources, both human and natural, that are increasingly exotic and vulnerable. What happens next to these people? And don't they put the rest of us to shame, not least because their artistic sensibility seems so sophisticated and contemporary, without exposure to the latest trends in either art or fashion? Here's a review from the New York Times that touches on these issues.

Caddy's poem catches some of this ambivalence for me, from the perspective of the humble worm. If the poem had begun "You say I'm lovely" it would echo the comments viewers make of the portraits in Silvester's books. The question "So how am I different from you?" seems so relevant in both instances. I think it's a real question, not just a rhetorical one.

There are several videos of Omo photos at YouTube, but I liked the one here best, not least for the music that accompanies it. I'm not sure what the music is, though, or who is making it. Watch the video, and let your eyes and soul be amazed.

You say I’m unlovely

but I know I’m fine.

I’m bristly and blue
with round yellow spots
in patches of black.
My long stripes of blue
are bordered in gold,
my skirt of orange bristles
is fit for a Chinatown dragon.

I hatch in my webs
by the thousands
and graze all the leaves I can find.
I am blessed in my beauty,
my manifold colors, I know I am chosen.
So how am I different from you?

World Turtle Day: Time for Basking

Something to tweet about: the long slow view. Today is World Turtle Day, acknowledged by Jaime Sweeney, owner of Wandering Turtle Art Gallery and Gifts here in Bloomington. If you follow her link you'll find more pieces by artist Brian Gordy, such as this wonderful watercolor, In the Cool Creek. They are from his series "Basking: Reflections on the Turtle."

Here are some words from the artist:

Turtles as subjects drag a deep trough of content with them. Ancient animals dating back some 200 million years, turtles have survived without any major evolutionary reworking. They exist in countless legends throughout the history of folklore and mythology, showing up in pictographs and iconography from some of the earliest evidence of the existence of humankind. Today, however, we must acknowledge that turtle populations across the world are struggling… we have found a way to compromise the existence of this impressive example of survivorship. In Indiana alone, 6 of the 18 species found here are listed as state endangered, while nearly all are threatened in some capacity.

My paintings pay homage to the distinct, original and effective design of the turtle, but they also are intended as a warning shot fired at the unnecessary destruction and segmenting of our turtle habitats.

Gordy says this about the beautiful shells of the turtles: ..the differences between the shiny purple-black shell of a Painted Turtle, the serrated knobby shell of a Map Turtle, and the leathery smoothness of a Spiny Softshell Turtle shell are quite profound.

Earlier this past week, at John Caddy's website Morning Earth, the photo above of a painted turtle, with this poem in her honor:

A painted turtle carries eggs
to plant in warm sand
in this her time,
as mother did,
and grandmother,
and her great- and greats-
stretched back deep
into the spiral dark
long before the dinosaurs.
Her features are fixed, but
if we see expression there,
it’s of a mother implacable
knowing none of the above
but knowing this is her time.

You can subscribe to a daily poem and photo from Morning Earth, or find them posted at the website. Take some time today to bask in the sun, paying homage to the turtle!

25 Random Things: Grackle Guys

25 Random Things: I know so little about grackles, though I have always loved their name. Did you ever hear a grackle crackle in the garden? It's part of the language of birds.

They are not one of the more beautiful birds, more like a smaller, less aggressive crow, with a harsh bird call. They do like to groom themselves by rubbing bugs on their feathers – a practice called "anting" – to apply liquids such as formic acid secreted by the insects. (So they like all-natural grooming products, as do I.)

John Caddy recently posted a poem about the Grackle Guys, received in my mailbox from Morning Earth. He also took the photos here. Here is the poem:

The grackle guys are up for it again,
full well they know their power
in new warmth and spring light.
Each incredibly aware of other males,
aims his beak straight up into his private sky,
the sky he knows he owns.
Grackle girls don’t care
what a grackle guy believes or knows
as long as he is fit and beautiful
and dominant (with other guys).
Oh, and his feathers must be silken moss,
and oceans must surround his eyes.

How Does Life Work? Learn More at Morning Earth

Perhaps you are wondering. If you want to develop your eco-literacy, or explore the confluence of art and ecology, you might want to take a trip over to the Morning Earth site maintained by poet and educator John Caddy. It's a rich environment, with learning resources, a daily poem, and information about balance, the biosphere, natural cycles, energy, symbiosis, and transformation. (I'm adding a link at the left.)

One of my favorite sections includes artist/naturalist pages, where you can learn more about people like Andy Goldsworthy, Rachel Carson, Beatrix Potter, and other artists who are new to me, such as Perry Ingli, of Plum City, Wisconsin, some of whose gorgeous works are shown above. The vertical image is of Aquarius Bluff, Lake Pepin, on the Mississippi River. The next picture is of the Sawbill Mountains at the Temperance River, from Ingli's North Shore Lake Superior Series, 1994. (I like this a lot, as I've climbed the Sawbill Mountains.) The other image is a set of 3 panels showing the Bluffs at Lake Pepin, from the Mississippi River Series of 1994.

Ingli has this to say about the way he works:

I am what artists call a "plein air" artist. That means I work outside, directly from what I see, not from photographs. I have to be there. I like hilly steep countryside and river bluffs, so sometimes I have to tie myself to trees while I'm working. I work with pastels on large sheets of paper on folding tables.

I take my time. I engage the natural-world in the slow lane; not the split-second aperture of a camera's eye.

I allow myself extended encounters with our region's land, water, sky, wind, wolf, moose, eagle, bear, loon; where new experiences and age-old memories merge and interact in a sort of slowed-down time.

I especially like that part about slowed-down time: it's often one of the gifts of artistic expression. This link takes you directly to Perry Ingli's Studio page.