Brueghel’s Icarus, the Painting, the Poem and the Other Painting
March 31, 2009 2 Comments
I’ve been asked the “if you were deserted on a island” question a few times in life. For example, “If you were deserted on an island, what 3 items from your house would you bring?” Never has anyone asked what poem or painting I might take.
Since nobody’s asking, nobody is gonna read this. Therefore, I can write whatever the hell I want, and not get corrected.
In case you’ve already lost interest, here is a more formal version on the same topic.
For the last 20 years, I was under the impression W.H. Auden’s 1940 poem Musée des Beaux Arts was about Pieter Brueghel’s 1558 oil on canvass Landscape of the Fall of Icarus. Just a couple of minutes ago, I found that my impression was wrong. Harper’s Magazine clarifies in a an article last November, 2008. Now the poem’s title makes sense. I wondered why “Icarus” wasn’t in the poems title? Now the poem makes more sense. Now, my adoration of Pieter Brueghel the Elder has at least doubled.
If I were deserted, I’d take the poem Musée des Beaux Arts and the painting Landscape of the Fall of Icarus (and The Census at Bethlehem if I could sneak by with it!)
Quickly I’ll tell you why, then I’ll ramble on and on and make unreal stuff sound real. These two pieces of work have shaped my perspective of life, my values, my purpose more than any other painting or poem. They have taught me more about suffering, and not turning away from those who suffer, more than any other painting or poem.
These aren’t my only influences, but if I were asked the “deserted” question, that would be my answer. I’d have a difficult time naming a well known historical figure I’d like to dine with. I’d have a horrible time selecting my favorite, most influencing songs. I would fall out of my seat if I had to choose the most influential person in my life, and I would probably crack my skull open and die right then and there.
Landscape with the Fall of Icarus Pieter Brueghel c. 1558; Oil on canvas, mounted on wood, 73.5 x 112 cm; Musees royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels
Here’s the painting that I thought W.H. Auden was referring to. A few things to look for. In the lower right, Icarus has splashed down into the water. He must be thinking, “Dang! I really should have listened to my Pops!” { I am always wishing my kids would say that more often.} Now notice everything else in the picture, I mean everything, is turning away. The wind is pushing the sail in the opposite direction, the plowing dude and his horse are moving in the opposite direction, the sun is setting, the city is shining, the sheep herder, everything, in the opposite direction. There is this fellow in the lower right, who appears to be a fishing, looking straight down, focused on fishies. Every thing turns away.
Now, my take on this at first, was that the world has disregard for high-flying, disrespectful kids who didn’t listen to their fathers. Really. That is what I was thinking at 19, when would I splash down. As I got a bit older, I started to think that the world generally turns away from tragedy or others sufferings.
Well not entirely, who doesn’t want to get a glimpse of a bloody arm hanging from a car accident. I actually saw a dead person, propped in a coffin recently, at a funeral home in Kansas. Not a relative. No-one I knew. But Allison told me she saw this deceased lady, and I had to walk past and see for myself. In life, I think we tend to look for suffering. In movies, in music, in the news, etc. What separates is that we don’t really do much beyond stare. We don’t do much beyond that. Maybe things have changed in recent years. But in general, we are all pretty dang selfish.
OK, another bombshell I just learned moments ago when preparing for this blog. Some say the the painting hung in Brussels isn’t really from the hands of Brueghel. Some hack made it based on one of Brueghel’s original works.
On to the most excellent poem by W.H. Auden. The poem that I thought was about something other than it is actually about. But that doesn’t matter, the content of the poem is still remarkable.
Musee des Beaux Arts W.H. Auden
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer’s horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
There is definitely a lot here, right? And I’d bet you a dollar if I hadn’t revealed the earlier information, you’d think this poem was written exclusively for the painting, 400 years later. You want to bet? Especially the last 8 lines. I mean really!
So here is what transformed my life perspective about this poem. 1. Old artists know a lot about stuff, including suffering, mostly Brueghel. 2. That suffering is a part of life, joy is a part of life, death and birth, yin and yang, salt n’ peppa’, etc. 3. Amidst suffering, we all go on our own ways, not often thinking about it, and in some cases, really not wanting it to happen.
I am trying to point to certain words or phrases or lines of the poem that really stick out. What’s astounding is the realization that Auden carefully placed each word so that not one word in particular stands out. The colors blend. It all blends. I guess if pressed, “the torturer’s horse scratches it’s innocent behind” is pretty dang arresting. Oh, and “the aged are reverently, passionately waiting for the miraculous birth” is a good one too. But overall, I would not accept being cornered into stating my favorite part of the poem. It’s all good stuff.
Pieter Brueghel the Elder, The Census at Bethlehem (1566)
So the second chunk of the above poem is definitely about the Icarus painting. No doubt. But the first part, the main subject of the poem, is about The Census at Bethlehem. In fact, the article referenced above, inquires if this is an ironic message of Christ’s birth? or a political slap at the Hapsburgs, who the Flemish despised. Mary is in the painting though. The one quote that jumps for the above Harper’s Magazine article is “Brueghel is driven by irony. In fact … they anticipate nothing. A miracle is being played before them, and they don’t stop to notice it. But this is the special genius of Brueghel—he casts a sharp eye on the life of a village. He misses nothing. And in everything he sees the misery and harshness of human existence, but also the potential for something better.”
So here is what I have learned. That my favorite poem/painting duo, wasn’t exactly what I had thought is was. They are clearly still my favorites. I love lots of Auden’s stuff, and Breughel continues to rack up cool points. Especially in this last painting. I think I am gonna go to the public library and get some real, as in the kind that you can hold in your hand, reference materials on these guys and read some more. Refresh.
Oh and one last thing. Both Brueghel and Auden composed their works in times of great uncertainty. The article references this too, in the last paragraph. Funny, it was was written in November of 2008. Great uncertainty then too. Was the political ideology of the previous 8 years going to continue, the policy built on fear and distrust? Or, were we going to trust and hope in the human’s “potential for something better”.
I now have a favorite article, too, not my most favorite of all times though. That position was taken by The Washington Post’s “Pearls Before Breakfast” a few years back.
Oh … btw … don’t tell me the Brueghel is spelt wrong. Of the articles I read, some used Breughel, others Brueghel. I tried to be consistent. I try to be consistent, but unfortunately I am often inconsistent.
