Once when I was struggling with the editing of a manuscript
by a well-established scholar who tended to wander and leap through her
discussions of art, a colleague said to me, We learn a lot through free
associating. I thought about that today because I have been free-associating my
way through several thoughts, watching a story develop.
A sculptor in India who is also a friend named her current
exhibit in Mumbai “Where the Green Grass Grows,” an allusion to Walt Whitman’s long
poem Leaves of Grass (1855). I
rummaged through my own library, which includes a small collection of poetry,
and did not find a copy of the poem. I found an anthology in the public library
and began to dip into it, stopping at a poem by Wallace Stevens, who died in
1955, regarded as one of the most difficult poets of the last century. When I
approached his work in college, I agreed. He baffled me. But I turned the page
to “Sunday Morning, I.” The first two lines read “Complacencies of the
peignoir, and late/Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair[.]”
Any mention of oranges caught by sunshine puts me in mind of
an incident many years ago when I took a lunch with me during a daylong stretch
of work in the Boston Public Library. I don’t remember every item, but I do
remember putting things together early in the morning, a few crackers, slices
of cheese, some celery and carrot sticks, and an orange. I grabbed it at the
last minute, not sure if I would eat it or not. In the library, after a long
morning of work, I arrayed my meal on the paper bag and ate.
After a few minutes I noticed a man watching me. When I
looked up at him, he smiled and moved away. I finished my lunch, all except the
orange, which I slipped back into the bag. At the end of the week I opened the Boston Globe to an article about the
simple ways people manage their diet. He described my lunch, listing each item
and its nutritional value. At the end, he added, “and the orange for color.” I
don’t know if the man I caught watching me was the writer or not, but I blushed
as I thought of myself being caught out. I did indeed take the orange with me
for its color.
Being observed and observing in turn brings to mind another
incident. The Boston Museum of Fine Arts holds an excellent collection of
paintings by Winslow Homer. One in particular, “The Fog Warning,” always draws
a crowd. A group of about a dozen people standing in front of the artwork
thinned out until only one man was left. With his dark beard and cap, he peered
at the image of the seaman in the dory, who was looking over his shoulder at
the mother ship as he rowed against the oncoming storm. Two young women drew
opposite the museum visitor, leaning close to each other as they whispered and
pointed from the bearded viewer to the bearded seaman. The similarity between
the two men and their postures was unmistakable. It looked as though the seaman’s
brother had come to take a last look. No one noticed me, as far as I know, standing a few steps away and taking note of the triangle of art and admirer
and witnesses.
These three pieces seem to want to be linked together into a
story, and it would be easy to do so. Is the villain the watcher in the
library, and is he the man being watched in the museum? Is the woman eating
lunch in the library one of the two young women in the museum tracking the
watcher from the library? Is there some clue to be found in a book of poetry? Once
a decision is made, the writer, like a prosecutor, returns to the individual
scenes and shapes the narrative to lead the reader to the predetermined conclusion.
Fiction is everywhere.
I love your free associations! So poetic. And I do love Leaves of Grass. A good idea to start new work with free association. You never know where it will lead you. Perhaps a work of genius?
ReplyDeleteI love your free associations! So poetic. And I do love Leaves of Grass. A good idea to start new work with free association. You never know where it will lead you. Perhaps a work of genius?
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jacquie. When I started writing this afternoon, I thought I was going to write about poetry and titles, but the essay got away from me. The ending especially surprised me. Perhaps I'll have to make something out of this. Thanks for commenting.
ReplyDeleteOne never knows where an impression may lead. Free association seems to open many doors. Enjoyed the read, Susan.
ReplyDeleteThanks for commenting, JR.
ReplyDeleteNicely done, Susan. Free associating yields fun surprises sometimes. I wonder if practicing free association also helps keep an aging brain nimble. Wouldn't that be great?
ReplyDeleteKeeping an aging brain nimble? That's a great idea--I love it. And I hope you're right. Thanks for stopping by.
ReplyDeleteWhat an inspiring article, Susan. I love the free association. It gives me hope when I think I've nothing left to offer.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Carole. I wish I could get my mind to be even looser. I know there's always something there in each of us.
ReplyDelete