"The Field of Dreams" and Iconic Realism

Photo of Derek Jeter, formerly of the NY Yankees, from Google Images

From my book, page 57: 

An example of iconic realism in a film would be the baseball field within the 1989 film, Field of Dreams, based on the novel written by W. P. Kinsella and the screenplay written and directed by Phil Alden Robinson. Throughout the film, the audience knows that the mysterious baseball diamond, carved out of an Iowan cornfield by farmer Ray Kinsella, connects with the sport of baseball. Two iconic factors are present, the sport, which many view as America’s heart and the location, which is the heartland of America.

The realism is the actual grass, the parameters of the field, which consist of the edge of a cornfield and the players, themselves, which are the Chicago Black Socks, a team which had gone through a series of legalities during its prime season. The baseball players are ghosts from this infamous team, who simply wish to play out eternity on a ball field. As the plot unfolds, Ray’s true reason to construct the field revolves around ‘having a catch’ with his father. Therefore, the iconic feature of an authentic baseball field, placed in the middle of a cornfield in Iowa, a very unlikely place for a baseball field, elicits the cultural awareness from the main character. Ray’s illusions of his father were detached from a realistic understanding of his father’s passion, for he very much like Ray, himself, was a hardworking young man, who loved baseball.

Therefore, Robinson’s use of iconic realism in the Field of Dreams illustrates a personal mission of opening the consciousness of America to the conflict within the heart of its people and traditions. The use of illusion and human consciousness illuminate the struggle with personal motivation that produces results as stated repeatedly throughout the film, “If you build it, he will come.” This feature of iconic realism in the Field of Dreams adapts well to contemporary statements of community in iconic characterizations and the realistic dynamics of connection and detachment.

William Butler Yeats' "The Tower II" and Iconic Realism

I took this photograph of Thoor Ballylee some years ago.

I pace upon the battlements and stare

On the foundations of a house, or where

Tree like a sooty finger, starts from the earth;

and send imagination forth

Under the day’s declining beam, and call

Images and memories

From ruin or from ancient trees,

For I would ask a question of them all.

(“The Tower II,” ll. 18-25) [1]

Here, Yeats places himself in the midst of the Tower, the earthen icon of the human soul. Born of the ancient source of all life, this soul’s power rests in the simplicity of a child’s voice, echoing for the “blind man’s joy.” This simplicity is so powerful that “certain men, be[come] maddened by those rhymes,” (l. 42) a magnificent union of the duality existent in imagination and reality. 

To further illustrate this duality, Yeats incorporates the iconic representation of “The Great Memory” to signify the reality of human consciousness. The speaker is out of control while at the same time, he is in control, “Come old, necessitous, half-mounted man;/And bring beauty’s blind rambling celebrant” (ll. 91-2). This ambivalence, accented with alliteration, leads to Yeats’ revelation that from chaos comes order and from dissonance, consonant harmony. He continues with his reference to human consciousness with an allusion to his recurrent swan’s song: “When the swan must fix his eye/ Upon a fading gleam, /Float out upon a long/Last reach of glistening stream/And there sing his last song” (ll. 141-45). 

The central theme of this poem is the realization of life’s paradox that art is both illusion and ideal. When Yeats reveals through the alliteration and rapid meter of “Man makes a superhuman/Mirror-resembling dream” (ll.165-66), he draws upon his references of the Easter Uprising and WWI in which reality of life recreates itself through the restructuring of chaos. 

Yeats’s iconic-bucolic imagery of singing birds in the introductory and concluding lines of “The Tower” reinforce his message of universal harmony that echoes throughout the sphere of life’s transformations. His final lines, “Seem but the clouds of the sky/When the horizon fades,/ Or a bird’s sleepy cry/ Among the deepening shades” (ll.193-96), indicate his reconciliation of life, art, Ireland and reality. It is not by accident that this poem leads directly to “Meditations in Time of Civil War.” 

In “The Tower,” Yeats illustrates the necessity for humanity to acknowledge the reality of life’s paradox and to nurture human consciousness with eyes wide open to human frailties as well as the glorious harmony present in one's creative endeavors.

The Tower

By William Butler Yeats (1865 – 1939)

                               I

What shall I do with this absurdity—

O heart, O troubled heart—this caricature,

Decrepit age that has been tied to me

As to a dog's tail? 

Never had I more

Excited, passionate, fantastical

Imagination, nor an ear and eye

That more expected the impossible—

No, not in boyhood when with rod and fly,

Or the humbler worm, I climbed Ben Bulben's back

And had the livelong summer day to spend.

It seems that I must bid the Muse go pack,

Choose Plato and Plotinus for a friend

Until imagination, ear and eye,

Can be content with argument and deal

In abstract things; or be derided by

A sort of battered kettle at the heel.

                                II

I pace upon the battlements and stare

On the foundations of a house, or where

Tree, like a sooty finger, starts from earth;

And send imagination forth

Under the day's declining beam, and call

Images and memories

From ruin or from ancient trees,

For I would ask a question of them all.

 

Beyond that ridge lived Mrs. French, and once

When every silver candlestick or sconce

Lit up the dark mahogany and the wine,

A serving-man, that could divine

That most respected lady's every wish,

Ran and with the garden shears

Clipped an insolent farmer's ears

And brought them in a little covered dish.

 

Some few remembered still when I was young

A peasant girl commended by a song,

Who'd lived somewhere upon that rocky place,

And praised the colour of her face, 

And had the greater joy in praising her,

Remembering that, if walked she there,

Farmers jostled at the fair

So great a glory did the song confer.

 

And certain men, being maddened by those rhymes,

Or else by toasting her a score of times,

Rose from the table and declared it right

To test their fancy by their sight;

But they mistook the brightness of the moon

For the prosaic light of day—

Music had driven their wits astray—

And one was drowned in the great bog of Cloone.

 

Strange, but the man who made the song was blind;

Yet, now I have considered it, I find

That nothing strange; the tragedy began

With Homer that was a blind man,

And Helen has all living hearts betrayed.

O may the moon and sunlight seem

One inextricable beam,

For if I triumph I must make men mad.

 

And I myself created Hanrahan

And drove him drunk or sober through the dawn

From somewhere in the neighbouring cottages.

Caught by an old man's juggleries

He stumbled, tumbled, fumbled to and fro

And had but broken knees for hire

And horrible splendour of desire;

I thought it all out twenty years ago:

 

Good fellows shuffled cards in an old bawn;

And when that ancient ruffian's turn was on

He so bewitched the cards under his thumb

That all but the one card became

A pack of hounds and not a pack of cards,

And that he changed into a hare.

Hanrahan rose in frenzy there

And followed up those baying creatures towards—

 

O towards I have forgotten what—enough!

I must recall a man that neither love

Nor music nor an enemy's clipped ear

Could, he was so harried, cheer;

A figure that has grown so fabulous

There's not a neighbour left to say

When he finished his dog's day:

An ancient bankrupt master of this house.

 

Before that ruin came, for centuries, 

Rough men-at-arms, cross-gartered to the knees

Or shod in iron, climbed the narrow stairs, 

And certain men-at-arms there were

Whose images, in the Great Memory stored,

Come with loud cry and panting breast

To break upon a sleeper's rest

While their great wooden dice beat on the board.

 

As I would question all, come all who can;

Come old, necessitous, half-mounted man;

And bring beauty's blind rambling celebrant;

The red man the juggler sent

Through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French,

Gifted with so fine an ear;

The man drowned in a bog's mire,

When mocking Muses chose the country wench.

 

Did all old men and women, rich and poor,

Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door,

Whether in public or in secret rage

As I do now against old age?

But I have found an answer in those eyes

That are impatient to be gone;

Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan,

For I need all his mighty memories.

 

Old lecher with a love on every wind,

Bring up out of that deep considering mind

All that you have discovered in the grave,

For it is certain that you have 

Reckoned up every unforeknown, unseeing

Plunge, lured by a softening eye,

Or by a touch or a sigh,

Into the labyrinth of another's being;

 

Does the imagination dwell the most

Upon a woman won or a woman lost?

If on the lost, admit you turned aside

From a great labyrinth out of pride,

Cowardice, some silly over-subtle thought

Or anything called conscience once;

And that if memory recur, the sun's

Under eclipse and the day blotted out.

                                III

It is time that I wrote my will;

I choose upstanding men

That climb the streams until

The fountain leap, and at dawn

Drop their cast at the side

Of dripping stone; I declare

They shall inherit my pride,

The pride of people that were 

Bound neither to Cause nor to State, 

Neither to slaves that were spat on,

Nor to the tyrants that spat,

The people of Burke and of Grattan

That gave, though free to refuse—

Pride, like that of the morn, 

When the headlong light is loose,

Or that of the fabulous horn,

Or that of the sudden shower

When all streams are dry,

Or that of the hour

When the swan must fix his eye

Upon a fading gleam,

Float out upon a long

Last reach of glittering stream 

And there sing his last song.

And I declare my faith:

I mock Plotinus' thought

And cry in Plato's teeth,

Death and life were not

Till man made up the whole,

Made lock, stock and barrel

Out of his bitter soul, 

Aye, sun and moon and star, all, 

And further add to that

That, being dead, we rise, 

Dream and so create

Translunar Paradise.

I have prepared my peace

With learned Italian things

And the proud stones of Greece,

Poet's imaginings

And memories of love,

Memories of the words of women,

All those things whereof

Man makes a superhuman

Mirror-resembling dream.

 

As at the loophole there

The daws chatter and scream,

And drop twigs layer upon layer.

When they have mounted up, 

The mother bird will rest

On their hollow top,

And so warm her wild nest.

 

I leave both faith and pride

To young upstanding men

Climbing the mountain-side,

That under bursting dawn

They may drop a fly;

Being of that metal made

Till it was broken by

This sedentary trade.

 

Now shall I make my soul, 

Compelling it to study 

In a learned school

Till the wreck of body, 

Slow decay of blood,

Testy delirium

Or dull decrepitude,

Or what worse evil come—

The death of friends, or death

Of every brilliant eye

That made a catch in the breath—

Seem but the clouds of the sky 

When the horizon fades, 

Or a bird's sleepy cry 

Among the deepening shades.

[1] Yeats, William Butler. The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats. (Hertfordshire, G.B.: Wordsworth Editions, Ltd., 2000)


[2] Lakatos, Jeanne. The Theory of Iconic Realism: Understanding the Arts through Cultural Context. New York: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2008, pp. 54-55.

Sydney Owenson's "Lay of an Irish Harp," Politics, and Iconic Realism

Sydney Owenson (Lady Morgan) 

The cover photo of my book from New York Public Library

Excerpt from my paper, read at the Association for Franco-Irish Studies conference in Dublin, Ireland:

In her 1807 lyrical collection, Lay of an Irish Harp, Sydney Owenson uses the iconic imagery of a harp to scrutinize the resonating cry for enlightened human consciousness shortly after the Act of Union 1801 has been enforced. She illustrates the harmonics of human intellect surrounding the Irish message of perseverance in times of hardship and indignity suffered when human rights are ignored, using rhythmic structure within her poetics and iconic allusions through intricate semiotic fusion of philosophy and history. According to her memoirs, Owenson’s aspiration was as follows: 

...to make my native country better known, and to dissipate the political and religious prejudices that hindered its prosperity…Neither lovers, friends, nor flatterers, ever turned my attention from the steady, settled aim of my life-- and that was to advocate the interest of my country in my writings…        

When enlightenment merely reflects the ignorance of cultural bias, the abrasive consciousness of society suppresses creative exploration and moves into a mire of lost intentions and spiritual limitation. Owenson begins a personal quest to enlighten her contemporaries of a plausible if not impossible endeavour for the Irish and the British to maintain a semblance of harmony in Ireland. She uses the aural traditions of harp music and the power in lyrical structure to express innovative concepts through the traditional aural experiences of narratives and music.  Kate Bowan and Paul Pickering remark: 

Music is central to the formation of identities whether national, ethic, religious, or political as it can by virtue of being a social activity, include or exclude, and is open to countless reshaping and re-articulations in various contexts.

Thus, Owenson’s literary works demonstrate an iconic vision in the midst of dissonance, as she focuses her reading audience’s attention on discordant elements within nineteenth century Irish society that need transformation. 

Note: A 'lay' or 'lai' is a medieval lyrical poem. Some believe that the word 'lay' originates with the Old High German word, 'leich,' which means a play, melody, or song. 

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.  

A Brief Introduction of Semiotics, Linguistic Association, and Historicity

A good day for fishing!

From my book: The Theory of Iconic Realism, pp. 15-16:

The study of semiotics unravels the mystery behind symbolism associated with memory, language variations, and sign-signifier correlation as the human mind associates ideas with specific representations. Syntax deals with language as an expression of contextual, modal and residual elements of language, as well as a clear understanding of themes and rhemes. A thorough study of semantics observes ideational, interpersonal and textual components of language. Finally, pragmatics analyzes format of the communication base, interpreters of a language and function of that language in a community. Therefore, a comprehensive study of semiotics enables an audience to experience the intricacies of language in association with textual, musical, or artistic expression.  

Linguistic association begins with the historical perspective of a community revealed through a collective memory base, the societal and political history of a particular language. This includes the beliefs that accompany the historical development of a language. If there is any variation of a standard, sociolinguists consider this a ‘dialect’ of the language.  In other words, the varieties of the language associate with the historical and ethnic identities of those individuals within the speech community. 

Historicity employs the use of historical arguments in the form of validated facts, reinterpretations, inventions, or myth to support the authenticity and legitimate formation of the language variety’s autonomy as established through history. One's culture, including language, music, art, faith, and traditions all incorporate to form the historicity. 

Iconic Realism and Cultural Hybridism: Sydney Owenson, Imre Madach, and Arthur Griffith:

  


Below is an abstract from my paper presented at the New England Conference for Irish Studies Regional Meeting, held at the University of Massachusetts, Boston, MA: 

Sydney Owenson's and Imre Madach’s use of iconic realism in their writings explore cultural hybridism in nineteenth century Ireland and Hungary. In her 1840 book, Woman and Her Master, Sydney Owenson makes the following observation: 

Society has become complicated more rapidly than philosophy and legislation can follow; the actions of man upon man, and those of the species upon nature, have multiplied faster than observation can co-ordinate, or reason control; until a positive advance has assumed the appearance of a relative retrogradation. (WHM, p. 15)

Through her national tales, Owenson presents characters entwined with Irish political history, that illustrate strength in cultural identity. 

Likewise, Imre Madach, the nineteenth century Hungarian poet-playwright, questions societal expectations in his dramatic representation, The Tragedy of Man. Madach moves his audience through a journey of social outcry against parochialism in his depictions of Adam, Eve and Lucifer, entangled in episodic adventures that transcend historical boundaries through radical, textual dissent against the provincial establishment.  Madach deliberately places Adam and Eve in opposition to Lucifer to illustrate that by confronting distraction and authority, one engages in a journey of self worth by gaining key elements of self-knowledge.

In his 1918 book, The Resurrection of Hungary, Arthur Griffith writes, “Ireland’s heroic and long-enduring resistances to the destruction of her independent nationality were themes the writers of Young Hungary dwelt upon to enkindle and make resolute the Magyar people” (xxiv). Griffith’s association of Ireland and Hungary illustrates that writers, such as Madach and Owenson, living within the parochial constraints of both of these countries, use the power of the dissonant pen to motivate their readers to understand cultural hybridism and consider positive cultural transformation.

Saint Teresa of Calcutta and Iconic Realism

Saint Teresa of Calcutta, photo from Google Images

After reading an older article about Saint Teresa of Calcutta, I realized that her selfless acts of love among the diseased and poverty stricken exemplify iconic realism. As a Catholic nun, she epitomized the concept of purity in mind and body. Yet, there she was, providing comfort to a population from which many would rather turn away. Through her presence in this challenging setting, she demonstrated the necessity for and beauty of human compassion. 

Her memorial day is September 5. 

One of my favorite quotes from this brilliant woman is as follows: 

"We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love.”