Semiotic Themes: Apples

Painting: Rafal Olbinski's Apple Trees

Fallen Apple

The fallen apple,

ripe with ardor,

drops from provisional support

and rolls into fertile mire

of fecundity, ignominy.

It’ll not rot in isolation,  

for through Divine Benevolence, 

right action will thrive.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

From my first book: 

A work of art will receive the eyes of multiple viewers. Each person adapts his/her life experience to the interpretation of the rendered artistic theme, thus altering the original thematic construct of the artist. Hence, a theme is in a constant state of evolution, no matter which art form has been presented (Lakatos 20).

How do these representations of themes demonstrate Iconic Realism? In both Olbinski's painting and my poem above, the representation is apples, both artistic expressions reveal the idea of an apple, a healthy fresh fruit, juxtaposed with a more negative depiction of this fruit: fallen. 

Yet, both expressions illustrate that it's not the apple's doing that leads to the fallen nature and inevitable end; it's the circumstances surrounding those apples that bring the audience to an understanding that through Divine Benevolence, one can move forward to activate positive change. 

William Butler Yeats' poem, "Fragments," and Iconic Realism

I took this photo of a stone etching, commemorating Yeats at Coole Park, Ireland.

Fragments

by William Butler Yeats

I

LOCKE sank into a swoon;

The Garden died;

God took the spinning-jenny

Out of his side.

II

Where got I that truth?

Out of a medium's mouth.

Out of nothing it came,

Out of the forest loam,

Out of dark night where lay

The crowns of Nineveh.

The following is an excerpt from my book: 

In his poem, “Fragments,” Yeats rejects the icon of Christian philosopher, John Locke, and insinuates that mankind may not be “inherently good,” for “Locke sank into a swoon” (l.1) In lines 2-4, he writes, “The Garden died;/God took the spinning-jenny/Out of his side.” Since the spinning jenny enabled laborers to produce many more skeins of yarn, this allowed for the presence of many ‘yarns.’ His play on words creates the yarn. God (Jesus), the male icon of Christianity, has removed the tales of faith, the sins for which He was crucified. 

The last stanza provides a reality of the truth, which emanates from a non-Christian source, a medium, then, “Out of nothing it came,” from the Book of Genesis, the beginning of time, and the source of God. He follows this with the pagan version of truth, “Out of the forest loam,” the most fertile, lowest part of the forest floor, where nutrients for the forest thrive. Finally, truth comes “Out of dark night where lay/The crowns of Nineveh.” Here, darkness reveals only ignorance, silence, no words of wisdom, and the source of superficiality. 

Yeats juxtaposes the iconic with realistic in this poem to question the mystery of human faith, [and to illustrate the strength of human spirit that exists only with God's help.] He moves the reader along his wave of resonating artistic flow, for the next poem in this series is “Leda and the Swan,” his iconic poem that alludes to the rape of Leda in order to illustrate polar opposites in human consciousness.

Sydney Owenson's (Lady Morgan's) "The Musical Fly and William Blake's "The Fly"

                

 
Photos above:

 Left: Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) with harp, compliments of NY Public Library

Right: the-fly-shapiro.webp from Google Images

Below is an excerpt from a paper presented at the Association for Franco-Irish Studies, Mary Immaculate College, Limerick, Ireland: 

In Sydney Owenson's poetic collection, Lay of an Irish Harp,  her chapter titled, “The Musical Fly,” renders a quote in French: “De pouvoir sans nous ennuyer Eterniser une bagatelle,” which translated into English generally states, “We cannot perpetuate a trifle annoyance.” Her poetic rendition continues with the tale of a fly’s encounter with the silent strings of a harp and an allusion to William Blake’s “The Fly” (See Blake's poem below.)

In the third stanza, she writes: 

Not seem’d unconscious of the charm
That lurk’d in every silent string
For oft the little vagrant swept

               O’er every chord his lucid wing. 

A fly not only is an insect that displays independence, but the word, fly, is both transitive and intransitive, with multiple meanings, all of which are related to transcendence. This fly, then, could be representative of independence. While Blake’s fly has an inevitable brush with death, “For I dance/And drink and sing, /Till some blind hand/Shall brush my wing,” Owenson’s fly, with a touch of its lucid wing, flirts with the silent strings of the Irish harp, a symbol of Ireland, and manages to create a resonance with the origins of the harp’s music. 

Both writers use a melodic format with metaphoric representations of the human aspiration for independence and the complexity that occurs when this spirit interacts with annoying governmental and societal dictates. Both poets elucidate for their audiences the dire consequences associated with submission to an overt power. 

Whereas Blake’s fly dances until it receives its fatal blow, Owenson’s fly dances to silent strings. Hers lives in a paradox that illustrates her desire to convince those in the British government, who could create the true music to allow their constituents to experience a reality based on tolerance, but choose instead to manage their constituents like that of the insect-vagrant, whose truth consists of momentary felicity. 

Owenson’s careful choice of lexicon in her poetic representation of independence reveals the antagonism that echoes throughout Irish history, like the strings of her harp, often resonating in a cultural vacuum of silence. 

***********************************************************

The Fly 

by William Blake

Little fly,

Thy summer’s play

My thoughtless hand

Has brushed away.

Am not I

A fly like thee?

Or art not thou

A man like me?

For I dance

And drink and sing,

Till some blind hand

Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life

And strength and breath,

And the want

Of thought is death,

Then am I

A happy fly,

If I live,

Or if I die.

Salvador Dalí and Iconic Realism

      The Rose by Salvador Dalí

       photo from Google Images

    Below contains excerpts from my book, The Theory of Iconic Realism: Understanding the Arts through Cultural Context.

     

      Suspended in an azure sky, a full, red, dew-kissed rose hovers over a muddy, obscure landscape with a visual representation of humanity strategically painted directly beneath the rose, as if this figure receives the flower’s beauty.  A delicate cloud wisps above the rose, giving the impression of an omniscient breath.  In this painting, the artist, Salvador Dalí, presents the colorful visual stimulus to illustrate an iconic representation of a rose, traditional symbol of love. Moreover, the rose has long been associated with the Blessed Mother. Since May and October have also been associated with Mary, the Mother of Jesus, it is fitting to discuss this painting during the month of May or October. 

Dali places this garden flower in a detached yet dominating position within his fair sky. Although the foreground has a realistic tone, the central position of this suspended rose has a surreal quality. Through this configuration, Dalí stimulates the consciousness of his audience with his visual associations to reality of the rose, the two people, and the landscape. Using mainly primary colors, he places the rose above rather than within the landscape, hovering directly above the humans. He creates a form of symbolism representing an overseeing life force that captures a viewer’s imagination. Could he be depicting eternal Love? 

Through this painting, Dalí incorporates iconic realism by rendering an iconic form (the rose) within a realistic setting in which the iconic structure is not traditionally perceived (hovering in mid-air over a desert landscape) in order to bring an audience to a renewed awareness of the significance and transformation that occurs with the primal cultural activity of human interaction with the Divine.  

Sydney Owenson's Writing and Iconic Realism: Spiritual Connection Between Humanity and Natural Law

An excerpt from my book: 

Owenson acknowledges the spiritual connection between humanity and natural law, a common theme occurring in Goethe’s works. In one of his conversations with Johann Peter Eckermann, he explains:

Freedom consists not in refusing to recognize anything above us, but in respecting something which is above us; for, by respecting it, we raise ourselves to it, and, by our very acknowledgment, prove that we bear within ourselves what is higher, and are worthy to be on a level with it. [1]

Owenson, then, incorporates the Romantic concept of nature’s influence on humanity’s intellectual actions while she introduces the reality of political and societal constraints through many of her characters’ struggles with self-awareness. Through this conflict, Owenson personifies the dichotomous nature of glory in which her birth nation struggles with true autonomy and its native glór (voice) to be heard. Owenson’s romantic, graceful style of writing demonstrates iconic realism through the interactions of her characters, placed in unique situations, as she awakens her society to effective conflict resolution that begins with the self.

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[1] Johann Goethe, quoted in Conversations of Goethe with Johann Peter Eckermann, translated by John Oxennford, edited by J.K. Moorhead (New York: Da Capo Press, 1998), p. 157.