Valentine's Day of the Dead (Part III) - A Country at War (Revised July 16, 2026)

 

Queen of Spades - screen print - 2022, Mahdieh Farhadkiaei

"In Iranian culture, women have historically cut their hair off in mourning, and over the past week we have seen videos of women snipping their locks at the funerals of loved ones killed by security forces. The act has also become a symbol of bodily autonomy and resistance against the oppressive regime."

- Via the 2022 Guardian article: Something in me sparked’: the Iranian women using art to protest.

"To walk among Iran’s rose gardens in spring is to experience a sensory and cultural journey. The air is thick with the heady scent of blossoms; the early morning sun glints off dew-laden petals; villagers hum songs while harvesting; poets and painters find inspiration in the delicate folds of each bloom. It is a celebration of nature, art, community, and history—a testament to a love affair that has endured for millennia.

In Iran, the rose is more than a flower. It is  memory, passion, spirituality, and identity rolled into a single, fragrant bloom. It embodies the Iranian understanding of beauty and impermanence, connecting the material and the divine, the ordinary and the transcendent. It is, quite simply, the flower of the nation’s heart."

- Excerpted from the online article: Iran’s Enduring Love Affair with the Rose. This information was, believe it or not, new to me and represented yet another thread in the weird web of synchronicities I found myself entangled in.

As it so happens, from mid-May to mid-June in the province of the ancient and beautiful city of Isfahan, Iran, there is the thousand-year old festival of Golab giri, a celebration of rosewater made from the fragrant Damask Rose (inset right), Iran's national flower which grows in abundance there. 

 

•

"I am like a schoolchild madly

in love with her geometry books.

I am forlorn

and imagine it is possible to take the garden to a hospital.

I imagine I imagine

And the garden’s heart has swollen in the heat

of this sun, its mind slowly drains of its lush memories."

- From I Pity the Garden, a poem written by beloved Iranian poet, film-maker, artist and feminist writer Forugh Farrokhzad (December 29, 1934 - February 13, 1967) and translated by Sholeh Wolpé.

Previously in the poem she mourns: "Our neighbors plant bombs and machine guns, instead of flowers, in their garden soil.
They cover their ponds, hiding bags of gunpowder..." and, "I fear the age that has lost its heart, the idleness of so many hands
the alienation in so many faces."

Often compared to Sylvia Plath, her poetry has a similar sense of urgency and rebellion. Their lives shared a similar tragic cast. Unlike Plath, however, Farrokhzad's  material can be wildly erotic and, at the same time, in the Persian tradition of Rumi, the Rose & the Nightingale and the Language of the Birds, strangely mystical.*

I am particularly moved by the line "I fear the age that has lost its heart."

I fear that age is now.

(Continued below the jump...)

Coming Back to Life

A Pentagonal Phi Movement (and a reposted image)

She was once a real person with a real sort of life. However, like real people everywhere, she eventually died.

But, that wasn't the end of it.

Because, particles of her presence survived in one magical image a renowned master craftsman had once devised; a craftsman who knew well the essence of life. And, although the girl sat quite still for her portrait, the master painted a nuance of amusement in her mouth and eyes; a strange animation.

As it was, the craftsman was an old, funny kind of guy. It was difficult not to laugh outright at his humor. And, it was this laughter he captured in the sparkle of her eye. She was bubbling with merriment, and, so, she would remain.

As it happened, the image, (with it's sparkle) would outlast both the girl and the crafty, old master and, in time, would attract millions of spectators from all around the world... who came to gaze at this forever-girl as she sat, mysteriously and motionless in her special place upon the wall.

Hundreds of years would pass; each day the same... the golden light, the shadows, the frozen folds of her gown... the stiff pose of her lifeless hands and the unwavering line of her mouth. Oh, how she longed to lift her arms again and wiggle her fingers. And, how desperately she needed to release the laugh she'd held inside for so many years.

Then, one spring day, while no one was looking, there was a movement in the painting.

Perhaps, it had been stirring inside the brush strokes all along.

And, she came back to life like a spring unwinding... for one uninterrupted moment in time. Just like that.

So, is it that joy lasts forever... and laughter will out? Or, are there loopholes in the way things are made... and/or recorded? Who can say?

The wise plant seeds. :-)

(The adorable GIF featured in the post is AI created and was sourced from Tenor.)

The Dürer Files: 1b. Hendrick Goltzius & The Gods of the Golden Egg (Completed 9/14/24)

Sine Cerere et Libero friget Venus (Without Ceres and Bacchus, Venus Would Freeze),
1600-1603, Hendrick Goltzius. Geometry: 2024, DS.

"When Goltzius created this so-called "pen painting," which combines pen and ink and brush with oil color, it caused a sensation in Europe and was immediately purchased by Emperor Rudolf II for his collection in Prague. Without Ceres and Bacchus, Venus Would Freeze, c. 1600-1603, marks the critical moment when Goltzius, the most famous draftsman and printmaker in Europe, turned to large-scale painting."

- Via the Philadelphia Museum of Art page: A Masterpiece in Focus, a short article describing the unusual painting featured above and inset left which the museum acquired in 1992. Apparently, after the Dutch artist, Hendrick Goltzius (1558-1617), completed it - and Goltzius was so secretive about his methods he never allowed anyone to see his work at an incomplete stage - it was snatched up by Emperor Rudolph, the "Mad Alchemist" of Prague. There's more to add to this post regarding Rudolph, but, suffice to say, he was also an avid collector of works by Albrecht Dürer. Meanwhile, Dürer was an artist that Goltzius felt motivated to "surpass," with the same competitive enthusiasm the old Master, himself, expressed regarding the Masters of his own time. 

So, did Goltzius surpass Dürer? Well, we shall investigate. But, before we go much further, allow me to mention that my first golden egg was found in Goltzius's odd Venus painting. Of the four golden eggs I've found, this appears to have the most perfect - albeit static - form. Interestingly, it is configured with the same arrangement of pentagrams as the former golden egg found in my previous file. But, note the star's differing orientation  (inset right).

The two ovoids are very similar; in some images they are almost interchangeable. The difference is shown inset right and below with phi-shells. I favor Ovoid 1 as superior in the Venus... image, but Ovoid 2 has a few things going for it, too.

So, which is the true ovoid in this painting?

Ovoids 1 & 2

In the last analysis, it doesn't matter. For Europeans living at the turn of the 16th/17th centuries, Without Ceres and Bacchus, Venus Would Freeze caused "a sensation." It seemed to possess a kind of mojo. And one thing I'm going to be asking throughout this post - the bottom line - is whether or not the presence of phi in art, specifically via the pentagram, lends the work in question a certain kind of indelible magic... and why that might be. Keep in mind Dürer's iconic Melencolia I, Botticelli's Venus, Caravaggio's Amor, or that mysterious Italian lady painted by Leonardo da Vinci.*

Without Ceres and Bacchus, Venus Would Freeze is a weird (but charming) image, but it might be helpful to know something about the gods involved in this oddly luminous, intimate scene... thereby, learning a few things about Goltzius (& Dürer) as well...