The Waste Land - Dookie's Blog

(This particular blog was written as a supplement to the entire text of "The Waste Land" by T. S. Eliot, complete with summaries and analysis of each of the five sections. All of this was added to a print by Blookup of my further ramblings on various other subjects; first to lengthen a sparse text ["never mind the quality, feel the width"] and second as an attempt to add gravitas. Only this blog is assessible online, but it does "stand alone" -  if "stand" is the correct word!)

The Waste Land begins with a line that is very well known, that "April is the cruellest month". Normally April is associated with Spring, renewal; why should it be "cruel"? 

What is there to renew and what will effect any renewal? For T S Eliot and many of his own generation, the answer was in the balance. Old ways, old forms of all artistic expression were dated beyond redemption, expressing a world that was gone. Swept away in part by the Great War and its carnage, obliterating the thought and hope of a natural human progress toward "perfection". No longer was the earth at the centre (Copernicus), no longer was "man" a special creation (Darwin), each found themselves alone. They sought meaning beyond the poetry of rural scenes, the art of classical and biblical events, of "important" people pictured upon a horse or throne, above the crowd. 

The poem of W B Yeats, "The Second Coming" sets the scene and asks a few questions:-

Turning and turning in the widening gyre   

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst   

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.   

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out   

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,   

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,   

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it   

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.   

The darkness drops again; but now I know   

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,   

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?  

A few "beasts" have  slouched towards Bethlehem since those words were written; but then again, what age has never had its beasts? Is ours any different? 

Well, moving on in the Waste Land I came across the word "shadow", repeated in a few lines, lines that end "I will show you fear in a handful of dust". Pretty dismal stuff, not the sort of thing to brighten a dull afternoon when looking for suitable diversions. In fact the word shadow set my mind off into a tangent, to the words of Layman Hsiang, from a "Zen Reader":-

Shadows arise from forms, echoes come from sounds. If we fiddle with shadows and ignore the forms, we do not recognize that the forms are the roots of the shadows. If we raise our voices to stop echoes, we are not cognizant of the fact that sounds are the roots of the echoes. To try to head for nirvana by getting rid of afflictions is like removing forms to look for shadows. To seek Buddhahood apart from living beings is like seeking echoes by silencing sounds.

So we know that illusion and enlightenment are one road. Ignorance and knowledge are not separate. We make names for what has no name. Because we go by the names, judgments of right and wrong arise. We make rationalizations for what has no reason. Because we rely on the rationalizations, argument and discussion arise. Illusion is not real: who is right, who is wrong? The unreal is not actual: what is empty, what exists? Thus I realize that attainment gains nothing, and loss loses nothing. 

I have no idea if such thoughts relate to anything that T. S. Eliot intended, but I certainly relate them to another section from the Zen Reader:- 

The graduations of the language of the teachings—haughty, relaxed, rising, descending—are not the same. What are called desire and aversion when one is not yet enlightened or liberated are called enlightened wisdom after enlightenment. That is why it is said, “One is not different from who one used to be; only one’s course of action is different from before.” (Pai-chang)

Some look for change, renewal. What exactly has to change? Or is true renewal simply "acceptance", pure acceptance of what is, paradoxically the only source of genuine transformation? Is there then, at such a time, a system, or are we then beyond all systems?

Well, onto the second section of The Waste Land, "A Game of Chess" where Eliot once again seeks to evoke the vacancy of much life as then lived  - and perhaps as it is often always lived. As one analyst has written:- "Modern city-dwellers who float along in a fog are neither dead nor living; their world is an echo of Dante’s Limbo. Chess belongs therefore to this lifeless life; it is the quintessential game of the wasteland, dependent on numbers and cold strategies, devoid of feeling or human contact. Interaction is reduced to a set of movements on a checkered board."

Eliot, drawing also upon many allusions and references mainly lost upon me, centres his summary of vacant drifting lives upon two ladies. One of high society, one of low. While she who is high would appear to be in some sort of boudoir, she who is low seems most definitely in a public house. Someone is constantly calling "time"! 

Whatever, both ladies would appear void of much that could be called authentic life, let alone the "peace that passes understanding." James Joyce takes such life and dialogue and finds humour, even finds in it that which is worthy of consideration, God being a "shout in the street." But here, in this "game of chess," each appears to inhabit their very own drifting emptiness. 

Now I think of the sheer multitude of bodhisattvas in the Flower Ornament Scripture, of their various ways and means of reaching each and every human heart. Where does myth and reality meet? How does it meet? However mundane our own lives maybe there is often the chance to be a "bodhisattva" when opportunity calls. Of coming forth from vacancy.

Next up is The Fire Sermon section. The Fire Sermon of the Buddha is well known. Known in the Pali Canon (Theravada) of Scripture as the Adittapariyaya Sutta, it is a long warning (for want of a better word) against being captive to our senses. Of how our eyes and ears and everything else is subject to an unending succession of impressions - and we are often just a plaything of them, with no inner direction.

Monks, the All is aflame. What All is aflame? The eye is aflame. Forms are aflame. Consciousness at the eye is aflame. Contact at the eye is aflame. And whatever there is that arises in dependence on contact at the eye — experienced as pleasure, pain or neither-pleasure-nor-pain — that too is aflame. Aflame with what? Aflame with the fire of passion, the fire of aversion, the fire of delusion. Aflame, I tell you, with birth, aging & death, with sorrows, lamentations, pains, distresses, and despairs.

And so it goes on, with ever greater detail. The "ALL" is aflame! For Mahayana Buddhism, the "all" is both samsara and nirvana. Our world and birth and death and the Deathless. Thinking of what has been said before in this blog, do we seek to quench the flames, put them out or pass through them? Are the flames finally doused and extinguished - or transformed, transfigured, even renewed by Grace, Reality-as-is. Shinran, one of the "fathers" of Pure Land Buddhism, writes in one of his Hymns of the Pure Land":- 

We are quickly brought to realise that blind passions and enlightenment are not two in substance. 

Further:- 

Blind passions and enlightenment become one body and are not two.

And in verse 39 of the 34 hymns of Shinran dedicated to the writings of the Master T'an Luan:-

Through the benefit of the unhindered light,

We realise shinjin (faith) of vast, majestic virtues,

And the ice of our blind passions necessarily melts,

Immediately becoming water of enlightenment. 

In The Waste Land  the fourth section "Death by Water" follows and given the context and themes of the entire poem I can only think of baptism, the death of the "old man" (or woman!) and the coming to be of the new.

Finally, the last section, "What the Thunder Said". Reading the analysis of this on one or two websites, I would say that the words are ambiguous given the sheer variety of explanations. Maybe that was the intent of Eliot? Who knows.

There is a blend of "eastern" and "western" ways and forms, and the whole poem ends with the Hindu cry of shantih, of the peace that passes understanding. 

In the Upanishads the thunder speaks to humanity: it commands us to give (datta), sympathise (dayadhvam), and control (damyata). Can such things ever come to be as the result of  "commandments"?

Eliot draws upon various apocalyptic images, all quite threatening, but as is said in one analysis:-

Release comes not from any heroic act but from the random call of a farmyard bird. 

Which is apt. At least, I think so. Much like the still small voice that answers us from the whirlwind. 

.....but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind the earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice......(OT, Kings)

The Hidden Ground of Love is a whisper, even "empty", beyond comprehension, not a consequence of systems, logic or rational thought.

Ending this blog, I will mention the "underground bodhisattvas" who  "express the immanence of the liberative potential, or buddha nature, in the ground of the earth, as well as in the inner, psychological ground of being, ever ready to spring forth and benefit beings when called. The image represents the fertility of the earth itself and the wondrous, healing, natural power of creation, or the phenomenal world..........the liberative qualities of spatiality and temporality."

Related Quote:-

"Not knowing why, not knowing why - This is my support: not knowing why - This is the Namu-amida-butsu." 

(From Siachi's Journals)

Art - Knowing what I like

"The Aficionado" by Pablo Picasso

I seem to remember from somewhere some words of disdain from an aficionado of art apparently looking down upon those who would only say of art that they "know what they like"; what they like often being the "real world" they inhabit being reproduced much like a photograph. This was simply dismissed by the expert as the admiration of "technique" and not any particular grasp of true artistic expression. More contempt  followed for "chocolate box" scenes, or the sentimental depiction of rosy cheeked children at play. 

Well, maybe so, but I know what I like, though certainly I would agree that if anyone wishes to simply reproduce what they see, then use a camera. Much quicker, and it saves on paint.

One way of saving on paint

Anyway, I am waffling as usual, and in fact this is all a preliminary to posting a few paintings that I like and know. What I have come to dislike over the years are paintings of "important people", often on horses (and definitely well above the rest of humanity) or alternatively - or both - in garb designed to impress. Most look very pleased with themselves; yet when you read up on their lives it often becomes difficult to understand exactly why. As far as the art is concerned such works were often commissioned, and the artist reduced to little more than a tradesman.

Philip IV, looking pleased with himself

Then, of course, there are the paintings that draw their inspiration from various mythologies, often Greek, where the human form, in diverse states of undress, is depicted engaging in questionable pursuits - deemed acceptable purely by tradition and the classical heritage of the intelligentsia. Warfare, rape and pillage. Or, alternatively, biblical scenes; the ancient prophets, Samson perhaps, events from the New Testament, St Paul on his travels and suchlike. 

Thus the past dictated the present. Yet what price seeing with new eyes or as in the Good Book:- behold, I make all things new?

Some Greek mythology for those who like that sort of thing

Well, this is all a bit light and tongue in cheek, but before moving on to a few of the paintings I like, a mention of the ramblings of another idiot, E.L.Wisty (aka the late great Peter Cook) who would sit on a park bench and ramble on about some subject or other for five minutes or so. He was the founder member of "The World Domination League" but took time out from this pursuit to offer his opinion on various subjects.

Once he chose to speak about art and told his audience that he himself dabbled, "not representational, more the abstract stuff rather like Picasso." He said though, that he used more colours than Picasso, who he observed would only use one colour at a time, having various "periods" such as his blue period and his rose period. The reason for this, according to Mr Wisty, was not artistic at all but simply that Picasso was "too damned stingy to pay for more than one colour at a time." He himself though liked to use many colours all at once and "splash them about a bit, all over the canvas."

Mr Wisty then spoke of how he had once taken one of his very own works to an art dealer. The dealer, he said, had looked at the work and then commented that he had "never seen anything quite like it before" but advised him that his work "had not quite matured yet" and asked him to "come back in a hundred years time" when his work may have "developed and matured."

Mr Wisty, reflecting upon this, rued the fact that more often than not artists only became famous after they were dead, which he observed was "a fat lot of good", to be "recognised" only after you were dead. He then suggested that one way of avoiding such a fate was to be "extremely controversial", which he himself had achieved by once painting a portrait of Sir Winston Churchill  "without a head". He admitted that he had not intended to do so, but had began his portrait with the feet and when he moved on up he found that he had "no room left for his head." Nevertheless, he saw his work as "controversial" and took it to the editor of a Sunday Newspaper, seeking to "become famous." According to E. L. Wisty the conversation went like this......

I said:- "Look, this is my portrait of Sir Winston Churchill". 

He said:- "Where's his head?"

I said:-  "I've left it off, it's extremely controversial!" 

Well, Mr Wisty was given short shift by the editor, who threw him down the stairs. 

Mr Wisty then moved on to assert that many sought to become artists only to "come into contact with nude ladies", observing that if you were, say, a blacksmith, it would be no good saying to a female customer: - "get your clothes off". Anyway, finally, after a brief criticism of Rubens (who "could not paint for toffee") Mr Wisty ended his discourse. And not once did he crack a smile.

E. L. Wisty's controversial portrait

Anyway, I will now move on to the various paintings that I know I like. Not exhaustive and I will not say much about them. 

First Salvador Dali, best known for his surreal "dreamscapes", but I go for the following more down to earth subjects:-

"Portrait of Lucia"

"Portrait of the Cellist Ricardo Pichot"

Next, Picasso, who passed through various styles (as well as colours, as Mr Wisty observed) and once again I like his more representational paintings, although one or two are more "abstract". 

Here are some that I know I like:-

The Visit (Two Sisters)

Old Jew and a Boy

Poor People on the Seashore (The Tragedy)

"Girl with Mandolin"

"Two Women Running on Beach"

""Weeping Woman"

"The Old Guitarist"

After Picasso, a Japanese artist, Hokusai:-

"The Great Wave off Kanagawa"

One from Gustav Klimt. I don't like "bling" (!) but for some reason I do like this....

"Portrait of Adele Bloch Bauer I"

And now William Blake:- "The Ancient of Days"

Of course, Vincent Van Gogh:- 

"Bedroom in Arles"

"Starry Night"

Finally, Monet, not Water Lillies, but "The Magpie". Feel the chill in the air:-

Portraits now of the actual artists, whose lives are always fascinating to read about. Apart from William Blake, they are all self-portraits:-

Salvadore Dali

Pablo Picasso

Hokasai

Gustav Klimt

William Blake

Vincent Van Gogh

Claude Monet

Postscript:- "Starry, Starry Night" by Don McLean

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and grey
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colours on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colours changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night
You took your life, as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in the ragged clothes
The silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will




Related Quotes:- 

"The collective will of an epoch precipitates into the arts. The rules of linear perspective characterized by a fixed station point symbolize rational, enlightened man at the center of his measurable world........The act of fixing the station point brought the temporal world into focus. The light of the visible world was gathered in a single point. The world was now measurable........A fatal blow came from Cezanne who unpinned the fixed station point. Unpinning the station point was the most definitive act of the Modem epistemology........Linear perspective was invented in order to look backward to antiquity for precedent, Cubism was invented to engage the present in all of its multi-cultural fullness. Perspective is precedent, rules, history, models, arrogance; Cubism is searching exploring, experimenting, discovery, and doubt. Perspective is ultimately a tool of archaelogists and historians, Cubism is a tool of inventors." 

(From "Cezanne Picasso Braque: Birth of a Language" by Jim Blake)


"The history of art is never regular or predictable, and it constantly changes. Rarely created in an isolated moment of inspiration, it is nearly always an amalgam of circumstances and experiences, feelings and opinions, social, environmental or political situations, or developments in technology, beliefs, traditions or thinking. It is also always about endeavour, ability, process and product. Which is why it manifests in such a multitude of ways, and expresses anything from the universal to the commonplace. Additionally, art has many functions. While much of it appears to have been created in imitation of the world, it is much more than that. It mirrors the times in which it has been made and, depending on the culture and location, can express and emphasize many different things, such as beauty, truth, death, order, immortality, power or harmony. As a form of communication or decoration, it can express philosophical points or religious beliefs, or it may simply entertain. Like any  other language, art becomes more fascinating when it is understood." (From "Art in Minutes", Susie Hodge)




"I think a lot of modern art is complete bullshit. But I admire the creativity. The weird shit people think of! Some of the most interesting things I've ever seen in my life, I've seen in modern art museums. And that's what art is all about. It's supposed to make you think.”

(Oliver Markus Malloy, from "Bad Choices Make Good Stories - Finding Happiness in Los Angeles")




"Modern paintings are like women, you'll never enjoy them if you try to understand them.”

(Freddie Mercury)

Easter Island

Hoa Hakananai'a

Over the past year or so I have dipped into the book "The History of the World in 100 Objects". There was a degree of trepidation when I downloaded the book as I more often than not enjoy straight narrative history. The idea of zeroing in on various artworks, statues, or whatever, did not truly appeal. But good reviews won the day. The book has gradually won me over, one object at a time. 

The author, Neil MacGregor, after first describing each item, then expands upon it, drawing forth lessons on the wider world. Also, the book is in no way eurocentric, the various objects are examples from every continent as well as every historic age. 

Sir Anthony Caro

Recently, object number 70, the Hoa Hakananai’a Easter Island Statue proved a high point. Mr MacGregor, an expert himself on such artifacts, has no qualms in quoting others. On this particular statue, after describing it himself as having a "rare combination of physical mass and evocative potency", then allows sculptor Sir Anthony Caro to offer his own insights upon what he sees as the essence of his art:-

I see sculpture, the setting up of a stone, as a basic human activity. You’re investing that stone with some sort of emotive power, some sort of presence. That way of making a sculpture is a religious activity. What the Easter Island sculpture does is give just the essence of a person. Every sculptor since Rodin has looked to primitive sculpture, because all the unnecessary elements are removed. Anything that is left in is what stresses the power of the stone. We are down to the essence; its size, its simplicity, its monumentality and its placement – those are all things that matter.

I thought then of the "uncarved stone", used to translate the Chinese word Pu, which refers to a state of pure potential which is "the primordial condition of the mind before the arising of experience. The Taoist concept of Pu points to perception without prejudice, i.e. beyond dualistic distinctions such as right/wrong, good/bad, black/white, beautiful/ugly. It is a state of mental unity which places the Taoist practitioner into alignment with the Tao."

Hoa Hakananai'a (back view)

Back to Easter Island. Long after the statue was first carved further carvings were made upon its back by a new generation of islanders. "Ecological change recorded in stone" as is said. 

Neil MacGregor then makes his point:-

There is something poignant in this dialogue between the two sides of Hoa Hakananai’a, a sculpted lesson that no way of living or thinking can endure forever. His face speaks of the hope we all have of unchanging certainty; his back of the shifting expediencies that have always been the reality of life. He is Everyman. 

Well, that is it. Time and eternity, shifting sands. The appropriate statement. Time to go.