Dismantling the Set

 [a stay with a symbolist film maker proves tiresome]

To promenade the lime trees by the seashore, I desire,

for I fade in the villa’s shuttered gloom;

surrounded by Caspian folklore, I’m tired,

by perfume, costume, entombed.

Achingly long scenes, metaphysical themes, 

of childhood, ritual, dream;

the tableaux, the symbols, water, fire, Oh,

best leave before I scream.

I’ll make a way from the Caspian, 

from fable, ‘meaning’ and woe. 

from samovar, poppy, fascination; 

to the mountains I must go.

Crosses, birds, Kaitags, blood,

such a mix, a muddle, I can’t breathe;

and your self-regarding ‘artist' friends 

are boring beyond belief.

Achingly long scenes, metaphysical themes, 

of childhood, ritual, dream;

the tableaux, the symbols, water, fire, Oh,

I’m leaving, before I scream.

I’m making a way from the Caspian, 

from fable, ‘meaning’ and woe, 

from, fetish, illusion, enchantment; 

to the mountains I will go.

And I’ll look down at the twinkling blue, 

from clearer air and light;

where cypresses punctuate ochre hills, 

I’ll sing to the trees, 

sing to the stream, 

sing to the moon tonight.

Peter Jennings

East Sussex

May 2021

The Music Video of this work is at:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=369f1zoI8HY

Blossom Falls

 

Pre-Vernal

Nursing sorrow of Pangean origin, 

Rowena, uncommon, guileless, with some dread emerges into the world.

Etiolated, faded,
she discerns -with sinking heart and searing loss- that matters are unchanged: 

venality, vulgarity, grim acquiescence, callowness prevail.

She feels... contrition, remorse;
yet, commendably, finds an unextinguished light, some undimmed wonderment.

Vernal

By this enspirited (though knowing well that disappointment follows) Rowena attends to her pliés by the kitchen table, relevés by the radiator, then, later, sequences before the studio mirror.

Such an unfolding: sureness, refinement, discipline, graceful line. 

She has rarefied sensibility, 

(a stern inner voice decrees that pure gifts be harnessed to some humdrum project or other) 

But... it would be infinitely sad should grace become lumpen, mere activity triumph.

Estival

Then, energy surges, floods:

Rowena gushes into the world, resplendent, captivating, full of promise, confident, impishly disdainful, she jumps and turns and becomes... undivided;

there’s transformation to a state of play, from where creation and invention erupt.

Caught up in a comet’s tail, disordered by vapours, propelled by wild electrics, there is joyousness, continuity, unconcern; merciful, loosening, unconcern.

Her movements, free-to-a-giddyness, embrace possibility.

Serotinal

After the excitement, volatile buoyancy, comes the decline. She is spent.

Rowena steadies herself, wondering, as always, quite what possessed her. 

She sits beside the pond in the courtyard;
the once-tall gentians, blue, white, lay bedraggled, buffeted by squall.

For a while, there’s graciousness, a sensible creature, urbanely reflective; 

Within and Without are reconciled,

perhaps things can be made tolerable.

Autumnal

Disentangling from reverie, from allure and blandishment of certainty, 

she returns to habitual disquiet:

-in some dreams -a print of Santi’s Terpsichore in trembling hand- she wanders a cheerless succession of hallways and landings, never attaining a room, never able to hang the picture.

-in others, enervated, wan, she gazes, bemused, from the periphery of things; 

but, easily bruised, joining in would be... e x c r u c i a t i n g.

Perhaps, for dancing on a Sunday, she will be turned to stone; this could be acceptable.. 

Hibernal

Rowena, forlorn, feels only sleep is left...
having engaged as much as she is able, there’s now the need to withdraw; 

it has been enough.

She desires to become
deaf before babble,
blind before ugliness,
distanced from clumsiness,
pure, before complications;

unwilling toward any inchoation, with its fresh demands.

Peter Jennings

East Sussex

April 2021

The Music Video of this work is at:

https://youtu.be/v5eQ29_Fnuw