summer has come and passed

this shot was taken by ms. nikki at the rouge valley conservation area, during a very boring field trip. it was a very hot day and we felt that this would be the most ridiculous way to cool off and, at the same time, tan our pale bits.

click to enlarge

The Art of Narcissism: Seamus Heaney’s “Personal Helicon” and Oscar Wilde’s “The Disciple”

  Narcissus, the archetypical male figure of self-absorption, figures prominently in both “Personal Helicon”, by Seamus Heaney, and “The Disciple”, by Oscar Wilde. Heaney’s poem is a deeply personal reminiscence of his childhood habit of peering into wells, comparing his stare to that of Narcissus’. His habit is replaced in adulthood by a more mature form of self-reflection: poetry. Wilde appends the Narcissus myth by recounting a mournful conversation, after Narcissus’ death, between a group of Oreads and the pool into which Narcissus longingly gazed. In an ironic twist, the mourning pool reveals that it mourned not for Narcissus, but the loss of its own reflection in Narcissus’ eyes. In both poems, art is portrayed as a form of meditative narcissism – the egotism being conducive to the production of meaningful works. The speaker of Heaney’s poem writes that his poetry is a form of that artistic egotism, like his well gazing as a child. His inspiration comes from introspection. For Heaney, art comes from within. However, Wilde uses the conceit (poetic and otherwise) of the pool to argue that the artist’s work is only a realization of the beauty of the subject – the pool itself. For Wilde, art comes from without.

  Narcissism is the excessive preoccupation with oneself, coined for Narcissus, the mythical man who was excessively preoccupied with himself to the point of death. Directed properly, narcissism can become a great tool for artists, particularly in terms of honing their craft. Heaney’s “Personal Helicon” subtly reveals how the speaker’s conversations with himself, with the aid of various wells, evolved into the more refined art of poetry. The speaker of Heaney’s poem is inexorably drawn to wells; “they could not keep [him] from wells” (Heaney, 1). Not only does he look into them to see the “white face [hovering] over the bottom” (Heaney, 12), but he also converses with that other boy to see if the well would “[give] back [his] own call” (Heaney, 13). In what appears to be a lonesome existence, Heaney’s speaker found company in his own reflection and echo, facilitated by the well. This practice culminates into poetry in adulthood. As the speaker states in lines 19 and 20, “I rhyme/ To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.” His narcissistic energies were converted and redirected into a meaningful medium: poetry.

  In Wilde’s “The Disciple”, narcissism is not a means of inspiration for art, but a catalyst for something that was already there. Narcissism awakens the hidden potential of a subject. It was through the eyes of Narcissus and his doting gaze that the pool realized its own beauty. By painting a poolside scene in prose, Wilde allegorically personifies the relationship between the artist and his work as the relationship that Narcissus and the pool had. An artist, deep in the artistic process, could very well be calculating his self worth by the piece of art he is producing. As he stares at his work, the artist most resembles Narcissus by the pool. Wilde subverts the artists’ Ivory Tower mystique of being a creator. Instead he relegates the artist to being merely the person who reflects the beauty of the subject into realization: “in the mirror of his eyes I saw ever my own beauty mirrored” (Wilde, p. 5). The personified pool came to appreciate its own beauty in the time Narcissus spent gazing upon his image. In the artist’s self-reflection, the beauty of the subject blossomed. Thus, in Wilde’s eyes, the artist is not the creator. He is merely the person that nurtures that beauty in his mind into fruition. By playing on the double meaning of reflection, Heaney and Wilde allude to Narcissus not merely as a selfish dandy, but also as an artistic mind.

  Art is but a reflection, from mundane objects to highly ornate chapel ceilings, of something an inspired artist ‘sees’. The light that enters his eyes is transformed within the mind through self-reflection; his expert hands echo the new image into tangible form. To emphasize this idea, the poets use a pun on the word reflection to mean both the reflected image and the practice of introspection. Both poems place heavy importance upon both definitions of reflection using various allusions, tropes and schemes. Heaney’s speaker, in “Personal Helicon”, believes that his intimate knowledge of himself, fueled by the self-reflective nature of narcissism, is what inspires him to write. In using wells to illustrate this idea, Heaney captures all the nuances of the word reflection. There is an epistrophe of the word reflection at the end of the second and fourth quatrains. While they literally refer to his reflections at the bottom of the wells, Heaney’s speaker turns each well remembered into a metaphor for self-reflection. Each well has a certain depth, corresponding to the emotional or spiritual depth to which his contemplations delved. Within those wells the speaker also discovered “long roots” (Heaney, 11) – an additional metaphor for his past. Heaney also emphasizes the idea of echoes (Heaney, 13; 20), alluding to the other myth associated to Narcissus: the myth of Echo. Echo was a talkative Oread cursed to repeat only the phrase she last heard. She fell in love with “big-eyed Narcissus” (Heaney, 18) and like all other suitors to do so, Echo was turned away rather brusquely. In her despair, Echo pined away into nothingness, leaving behind only her voice: a voice that can still be heard today in caverns and wells. Well, what are echoes but reflections of sound? The echoes that Heaney’s speaker referred to came back “[with] a clean new music in it” (Heaney, 14). Reflection has remade the initial call new and musical; it has transformed his voice, bringing order out of chaos. All reflections, visual or aural, must have a source. Through reflection, musing and mulling, something better is born. For Heaney’s speaker that source is himself – he is his own personal Helicon: mountain of the Muses.

  “The Disciple” is a prose poem that stresses both reflections using a liberal amount of complex and calculated repetition schemes. From “the pool of his pleasure” (Wilde, p. 1) to the first words of the Oreads as they “came weeping through the woodland” (Wilde, p.1): “We do not wonder that you should mourn in this manner” (Wilde, p. 2) – alliteration runs wild in Wilde’s poem. Perhaps most clever is the ploce “a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears” that is the refrain in the first two paragraphs. The “cup” is the anaphora that balances the two metaphorically flavoured liquids. As an additional layer of complexity, Wilde also adds mirrored sibilance and consonance to this phrase. “Sweet waters” is bookended by [s]s while [w] and [t] are also repeated. “Salt tears” is given similar treatment as the [s], [t] combination in “salt” is reversed to [t], [s] in “tears”. Repetition appears not only schematically in the narrative, but also in the dialogue itself. The pool, highly reflective, repeats the words of the Oreads by asking, “was Narcissus beautiful?” (Wilde, p. 3). This was an allusion to the myth of Echo. For every question posited to the pool it was repeated back, but reworked by the immense ego of the pool. In response to the pool’s question, the Oreads replied, “Who should know that better than you? […] [In] the mirror of your waters he would mirror his own beauty” (Wilde, p. 4). Dripping with irony, “the pool answered, ‘But I loved Narcissus because […] in the mirror of his eyes I saw ever my own beauty mirrored.’” (Wilde, p. 5). The pool was even more narcissistic than Narcissus himself! Not to be forgotten is that the Oreads were also mildly narcissistic themselves: “[us] did he ever pass by” (Wilde, p. 4). In saying that, the Oreads assumed they were beautiful on a level worthy of Narcissus’ attention (this phrase may have also been reflective of Wilde’s own narcissism for as a homosexual dandy, he probably relished the fact that women were attracted to him to no avail). Even the narcissism trait was reflected into the surrounding characters. Every facet of this prose poem has been masterfully inundated with the reflection theme. They are not merely straightforward reflections either. They are complex manipulations of sounds, letters and meanings. Heaney and Wilde both impress upon their readers the importance of reflection in art, be it internal, or external, reflection. Without the ‘digestion’ process that occurs within the mind of the artist, the ‘art’ created would be meaningless, like using tracing paper.

  Art is one of the few things in life that strive to find meaning. Meaning cannot be found by merely staring at an object for an extended period of time. Seamus Heaney’s speaker found meaning to his childhood by allegorizing it as a personal relationship with someone much like himself – his reflection at the bottom of the well – but, at the same time, completely different. Through his mental reflections and musings he inspired poetry to search his soul. The wells, in his mind, became a “Personal Helicon,” a window into himself. Oscar Wilde entertained similar notions, in that meaningful art required reflection. With its dandiacal irony, the pool of Narcissus’ pleasure, “The Disciple,” exemplified Wilde’s subversive idea that the artist merely reveals the true beauty of his subject. Like Heaney, Wilde’s idea requires a reflection that goes deeper than merely parroting back what it began with. Only then can art be considered meaningful. Artists can identify easily with Narcissus and not only because of the misunderstood tragedy of his death. He was, after all, only searching for the most beautiful thing he could find, and tried to capture it. Is that not what art is all about?

Calgary 05

friday august 19: in T.O.
after work (12:30) i helped change ms. libby's flat tire. it was pleasantly sunny. went home shortly thereafter to chill and pack a little. then the rains came and continued. at 4 i headed out with my dad, he dropped himself off for work at birchmount and 14th and tasked me with picking up sherm. by this time flash flooding was well under way. a mitsubishi eclipse was the first casualty i saw, sunk in a puddle up and over its windshield wipers. i meandered for 2 hours, had a fun time wailing to josh groban and watching cars flounder in puddles. i passed the creek that runs across birchmount just north of sheppard. the water nearly crested the trees that lined the raised banks. at the day care, power was out, northside rooms were flooded and kids were fooling around in the gym or crying for their parents.
the ride to church was sweet as the 401 was significantly clearer than NS routes. nearly got killed as i turned left onto morningside by a nice blind driver who felt it was his right to ignore the four-way stop system imposed by the lack of traffic lights.
aletheia's program was cancelled, so we craniumed instead. stephen, kevin, melissa (and later eunice) vs. dan, kat, herman. needless to say, by the time i left, we were winning in dominant fashion.

saturday august 20: flight out to calgary
early wake up to finish packing for the 10:30 flight. saw dorcas and some of her family on their way to their edmonton flight's gate. uneventful flight. opted to not take the complimentary headphones, so i had to watch Monster In-Law silent style. the two old chinese ladies next to me missed their flight to saskatoon on account of friday's weather, so they were taking this flight to connect from calgary to wheat town. incidentally they also hailed from a chinese alliance church. fancy that.
back in calgary at long last, i was assigned as the navigator. apparently i don't know my roads in toronto, but once i'm in a new city i'm pro. sweet skill to have.
we stayed at the house of my mom's high school friend's mom. met up with said high school friend, auntie jessica's, family. and when i say auntie i don't mean a real auntie, but the way chinese people mean it. i just think it's more meaningful that way. after lunch and a slight reprieve, i went with her husband, uncle duncan, and my dad to fetch dinner food, as uncle duncan loved to grill. he blew $215 on t-bones and many other things. it was a huge meal.
as it was being prepared i got aquainted with their kids': Trent, Melissa, Chris, and their playstation two.

sunday august 21: waking up in calgary
yay! visiting a church! westminster presbyterian church. 1 hr. service. that's zoom zoom compared to what i'm used to. and the speaker looked like a christoper reeve, alive but gone south 'round the girdle. awesome! i also discovered that their playstation two was also stocked with soul calibur 2. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

monday august 22: skating at the olympic oval
on the very stretch of ice that olympians practiced and raced back in whatever year the Olympics were held in calgary, i slipped and skidded along on very, very dull rental skates. i hadn't skated since april and i had only just adjusted to my new skates' parabolic blades. so hopping back into dull straight blades was an adventure in and of itself. there was a group of japanese people there, early twenties. Chris, 11, took it upon himself, with goadings from his dad, to teach the prettier ones how to skate. one girl in particular was coached most readily and she was passed on to Trent, 15, for a period of time before being quickly dumped on me. poor, pretty, illiterate, visa student. she refused to stand on her own weight, insisted upon leaning on my hands for balance. never going to skate properly learning like that. she made about quarter of the track with me before she requested a break. Chris picked up the slack later on and got a picture taken with her. he likes older women. his dad helped him get her number. meanwhile, his own daughter, 13 year old melissa, was slightly ignored and left to her own devices. i taught her to skate with her head up so she won't get concussed like Lindros.

tuesday august 23: lake louise and banff
we set out for banff, planning to stay two nights at the red carpet inn. so we did. we stopped at lake louise first as it was on the way. pity about the drizzle and the overcast skies or else lake louise would've looked spectacular (just like in the postcards). after an understaffed lunch, i acquired a purse upgrade. i now have a sack, single cross-shoulder strap with two main pockets. it's spiffin' and great for holding things larger than what my purse can handle, i.e. bible, water bottles, rolled up jackets, in times when i'd prefer not to have a backpack to lug around. the price was way too steep for my liking, but my dad insisted. lifetime warranty should set it even after 60 years of use.
we rolled into banff at 4. after settling into the red carpet inn's room 203, my parents drove off to the hot springs for a soak. my brother stayed in the room to watch the jays game. i went out along banff avenue and trolled the shops for a single postcard. and perhaps shoes. and also to scout out the local eateries. we picked my first choice: Joe's Diner. roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy = hey super fun. roast beef was a bit disappointing. but the mashed potatoes were hey super fun indeed.
sherman insists upon sleeping diagonally on the shared bed. and he wondered why he kept waking up to the feeling of someone kicking him.

wednesday august 24: gondola, NOT gon-DOH-la
back to lake louise and a bit across to the massive skiing mountain. there was a huge log chalet where we sampled a very small, very unfilling buffet. but it cost about $4 per person so i wasn't about to complain. chalet was filled with a japanese tour group which was awesome. sherman, who is racist, felt very uncomfortable so i laughed at him. the main point of this trip was to take a gondola up the mountain 6000 something ft. and go on a wildlife hike up on the plateau. but it was rainy. and about 1 degree celcius. sherm and i opted for the ski lift as gondolas are supremely wussy. i was prepared by wearing one longsleeved tee, one t-shirt and a sweatshirt. about 4000 ft up it started to get stupid cold due to rain water, wind and lack of bodily movement. super. i took the gondola down. no animals sighted on the way up/down around. found out how porcupines mated (because i've ALWAYS been curious about that) and took a picture of the blurb so i could remember it forever.
food court dinner was tasty because japanese tappenyaki fried noodles are always better on styrofoam plates accompanied by iced cola in a tall, waxed paper cup.
insomnia was fun. i tried curling up in one of them tiny hotel chairs to no avail. made up for lost sleep in the car the next day.

thursday august 25: return to calgary and not having to share a bed
drove back to the house of the mom of the friend of my mom's. nice how we could see the lovely rockies on the way out, rather than on the two whole days we spent looking at them through fog and rain. after lunch the boys all went to the driving range with uncle duncan. sherm can drive rather well. i cannot. i didn't want to lose my softball swing. so i teed off happy gilmore style, with a slightly shorter run up and a much more feminine driver. the 'w' on the shaft told me so. as did the mauve colour. and the extremely light weight. i was using auntie jessica's set of clubs as she was the only rightswinger in the family. for 6 minutes i got the other guys to try to golf their balls high so that i could try and knock them out of the air with my special technique. failed miserably on all counts, but it was stupid good fun. Trent then lost his head - club head, that is - and sent it flying into the range, farther than the ball went. his dad coerced him into running onto the field to retrieve it. it was quite cool when sherm joked that someone should try to drive one at him and some kid next to him complied.

friday august 26: west edmonton mall
mm... 3 hr. drive to edmonton... 2.5 hr. shopping for nothing... 3 hr. drive back to calgary. time well wasted. upon getting back we were treated to some dang quesadillas that uncle duncan had grilled up since he didn't go to edmonton. they were huge and they were tasty. soul calibur was also tasty. mmm... talim.

saturday august 27: leaving on a jet plane...
2:30 flight left plenty of time to have shanghai dim sum beforehand. my second little dragon bun ripped and spilled its soup. flight home was much better with headphones. didn't sleep and had to really pee just before landing. i opted to wait it out. too bad we were sitting at the back and it takes forever for people to get up and file out.

sunday august 28: back to church!
i woke up in time for english service (9:00) but no one else was up on account for crazy jet lag and staying up until 2 am. so i went back to bed and arrived in time for sunday school. which quickly turned into all day breakfast at wimpy's diner. which turned into all-you-can-eat-omlettes for $7.99. as regualr omlette dishes were priced at $6.99, eating more than one would be a supreme bargain. so most of us lined up and watched one omlette guy work three pans at once. and the omlettes were huge. i could only muster the energy for 1.5. next time i'll be ready to do 3.

Movie Reviews: quick!

i watched a bunch of movies on my vacation...

Monster In-Law: i watched this on the flight to calgary, without the aid of pointless things like sound... it was pretty easy to follow and mildly enjoyable like all soundless romantic comedies. jlo, sans ben, has got to be worth something. 2/5

Kung Fu Hustle: having seen this one before, but having not reviewed it, i am doing so now. yay! stephen chow is always good for a laugh. interesting how he's now trying to get into the business of serious movie making (he stars, produces and directs) while still cracking out the toilet gags. kung fu hustle is stephen chow's homage to several influential genres from his childhood. from the traditional chinese kung fu mold, to the Matrix, to looney tunes. those unfamiliar with the way stephen chow casts will probably be surprised to see very familiar faces from shaolin soccer. many of the actors he works with reappear in at least 4 other movies of his. the lack of cecilia cheung is rather disappointing. she would have made a better mute lollipop girl, though it was obvious that he cast a look-a-like. sub-par stephen chow movie overall. not as good as shaolin soccer. and shaolin soccer was merely average. 2.5/5

Hide and Seek: i didn't watch the first 20 minutes because i thought i'd freak out from watching a scary movie. then i remembered that the last time i watched a scary movie was in '97. riveting and terribly twisted. dakota fanning is my new child actor superheroine. 3.5/5

Sin City: missed the first ten minutes on account of helping melissa with the dishes. caught on quite quickly. visually stunning in that slick artsy way (alexis bledel's eyes highlighted = good idea!). yay, jessica alba, naturally. dark humour was quite refreshing ("you forgot to flush"). quentin tarentino really likes the girls with swords; miho was hott - i could actually recognize his nerd styles: girls w/ swords, girls with guns, hallucinations of talking dead people, white blood, shadow scenes... 4.8/5 misses perfection because of the predictability of the characters... frank miller follows a pattern in his characterizations and it shows.

Kicking and Screaming: i watched this one on the flight back to toronto. don't you love noticing cheesy artistic elements either the director or the writers tried to incorporate into their family movies? the recurring number 13 for example. the plot was patently predictable; the ending was very sweet (very mushy sweet, and only partially cool sweet). i love italians, but meat comes first. will ferrellisms peeked through once in awhile, but not as over the top as anchorman; they still ellicited laughter. loved the lesbian asian orphan adoption and the superfluous coffee antics. 2.3/5