Thursday, December 27, 2012

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Jesus Christ! There he is again!



After posting about the "restoration" of that Jesus painting, the one that became a worldwide sensation and led to a boom in tourism as well as numerous lawsuits, I got to thinking. I got to thinking about one of those things. I got to thinking about one of those things I haven't thought about for a long, long time.

What do you call those, you know? - those images, usually religious, but not always religious, and there's two of them and they flash back and forth? I mean, two images that appear on the same, what, thingie, not paper or cardboard like a photo but a sort of plastic thing. It's like a photo with a double image, except it's not. What's the NAME of those things, if they have a name?

It's hard to find them now, but as a kid they were ubiquitous and represented an extremely refined form of technology. You could even get a ring with Jesus on the cross flashing back and forth with the Last Supper. The material was sort of - how do I describe it? Thick and plastic-y, sort of rough with little lines running across it. It had a weird texture. The last time I saw any of these was 15 years ago in a little Quebec town called St. Anne de Beaupre, a place with a beautiful cathedral which vibrated with everyday mysticism. The gift store had mostly tacky things in it, but I still have a hand-carved wooden pendant of a descending dove which only cost about $2.




Maybe this is all that's left of that Crackerjack-box miracle of my childhood: images of Jesus that sort-of move, usually in a wiggly or jerky way. You can't wear them like a ring, and most people think of them as pretty ridiculous.




Cynical though I may be, and I am plenty cynical sometimes, some part of me has never let go of the dizzying wonder of the Nazarene. He is a mystery I cannot begin to fathom. Attempts to debunk or mock or make-look-stupid are too easy. Jesus represents the awful vulnerability we all share at the core. Jesus bids us shine with a pure, clear light.





Jesus may have not so much walked on water as hopped, or maybe slid if the water was frozen. But never mind the manner of locomotion. What disturbs me about this one is how he suddenly disappears, just as I am starting to warm up to him. Too true.


 

This one reminds me of my last migraine: you just think it's never going to end.


 
 
Something about this one, though. . . It's supposed to be a gif and rippling away, but so far it isn't doing very much. But this Jesus is nice-looking and has tender, compelling eyes. They look blue and that isn't very likely, but we'll forgive that. I might sit down and talk to this Jesus if he were only real.
 
Was there a Jesus after all, or did we just wish or will him into being? A thousand layers of pretentiousness, cruelty, fear, false worship, hypocrisy, suffocating ritual, sexual abuse and shameful coverup, and all those things that sicken me unto my soul, have covered the truth over, and over, and over, encapsulating it as if it were a disease, and obscuring what may or may not have been there to begin with.  A vast civilization has been built up, a massive edifice founded on a possible myth, a good story that we are pretty sure never even happened.

CHRIST! Look what they've done to this painting!


 
 



‘Good deed’ by rogue restoration pensioner ruins 19th-century Spanish fresco


 
 
 
Masterpiece no more: the alterations to Elias Garcia Martinez's Ecce Homo were made by an elderly Spanish woman trying to do a good deed.
 
Ecce Homo (Behold the Man) was a prized Spanish fresco — the pride of the Sanctuary of Mercy Church in Borja, near Zaragoza, where it has delighted parishioners for more than 100 years.

But after a botched restoration attempt by a well-meaning DIY pensioner, Elias Garcia Martinez’s 19th-century masterpiece looks more like a child’s finger-painting.

The unauthorized alterations were made by a Spanish woman in her 80s who had apparently grown upset over the worsening state of the painting.

The leftmost image is how the painting looked two years ago; the middle image is how it looked in July, when it was photographed for a catalogue of regional religious art. The image on right is how it looked on Aug. 6, when the Centro de Estudios Borjanos, a local cultural organisation, went to check on it after receiving a donation for its restoration.

A spokesman from the Centre said: “The value of the original work was not very high but it was more of a sentimental value.” It was painted by Elias Garcia Martinez who is the father of two well known local artists and the family had made a donation towards its preservation.

“The lady, who is in her 80s, acted without authorisation from anyone.

“The church is always open because many people visit and although there is a guard, no one realised what the old woman was doing until she had finished,” the spokesman said.

The woman contacted Juan Maria Ojeda, the city councillor in charge of cultural affairs, after recognizing her error. Ojeda says that art historians are now discussing if the painting can be saved.
“I think she had good intentions. Next week she will meet with a repairer and explain what kind of materials she used,” Mr Ojeda said. ”If we can’t fix it, we will probably cover the wall with a photo of the painting.”








Blogger's note. HEY! How about covering it with wallpaper? Any kind would do, even Hello Kitty or those freaky dolls from Monster High.

I now feel a whole lot better about my own non-existent artistic skills.

But I will say this: it's the most unusual iconic depiction of Jesus I've ever seen, beating even those burnt-grilled-cheese varieties that sell on eBay for a zillion dollars.

I kept looking at this face, and it dern-toonderin'-well reminded me of something, or someone, but at first I just couldn't figure out what.

 

Surely Jesus resembles, if ever so vaguely, Alice the Goon from the old Popeye series.

No?

Alice just isn't brown and smeary enough. How about a botched gingerbread man?





There's a small resemblance about the mouth, but it's not quite smooshy enough.


 
 
Chocolate chip? I think there must be a special stamp for these things. This one has a delightful Shroud of Turin aspect, but it doesn't quite match Mr. Ecce.
 
 
 
Flip and tilt him, and he looks alarmingly like Bob Dylan in his Self Portrait days.
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
It's weird how many resemblances you spot when you stare at this monstrosity long enough Such as. . .
 
 
 
 
 
"I am not an animal! I am just a bad restoration!"
 
 
 
 
Scary.
 
 


But what's this? It's Homo Erectus! His hair (fur?) doesn't quite cqpture the Inuit-fur-hood-with-chin-strap-effect, and to tell you the truth I think he's more evolved than Cookie Face with the smarmed mouth. But still. . .

Ecce Homo Erectus? I think it might fly.





Monday, December 24, 2012

Noel: music and images for Christmas




 
 

Whom we call Mary, will we ever know?
We have turned the girl bearing down in a freezing barn
hiding her bastard child in terror of death
to someone carved of soap, made cloud or heaven.
Poor Mary. We have robbed you of you.
 
 

 
 
This edifice, this war! This junkyard of faith!
Like molten lead in water
this phosphorescent upflash
of livid flame
 
 
 
 
 
We have this idea we're married to
that men came,
three, though we don't know that,
that they had money and power, though we don't know that,
That they knelt and adored
but we don't know that either
the story has hung itself around us
like crepe paper
 
 
 
 
 
This is Jesus, though hidden.
Jesu ben Yusef
circumcized, a Jew.
We cannot look at him, do not look upon him,
You will burn your eyes.
We know no good has ever come from Nazareth.
 
 
 
 
This is what we find on the sidewalk
Don't go there   don't go outside
Go inside the church and stay there
 
 
 
 
 
 
Portal: walk along the street
where Jesus was, where Jesus was.
Who was Jesus, what, an idea?
A reigning prince, a pretender?
I think he was a dream
a wish, a desire, a scramble for meaning
in the small square hole of our lives.
 
 
 
 
 
For all that, there lives a desperate sort of grace
and we must reach for it
or not go on.
Stay out of our church, go in this one,
be run out of that one,
find the True Church, the one true religion
 inside your own brain.
 
 
 
 
 
For all that, there is this repeating, not endless, just seeming so,
for surely it will end
before we know it.
Will the end be the same,
faith or unfaith,
knowing or not knowing?
Why must hope be born again
at the very desolation of the year
and customs dragged out
dusted off
as if they make a difference to the world?
 
 
 
 

Like chess-pieces, we hold and handle
the smooth turquoise, the cracked cool finish
in a need to comprehend the vast mystery
in
the dailiness and boredom
 
the ascendance
the rhapsody of light
the scent of winter trees
sounds of owls
we live for this, die for it
this stubborn insistence of wonder
this god with a human heart

This one's for Matt: a Merry Very Crispness

 
 
 
 
 
 
For my friend Matt Paust, the Hemingway of the Henhouse (his name inspired by this rare photo of Ernest H. at the DayGlo Hotel in Ketchup, Idaho: I don't know how he kept all those cats away).

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 



Thursday, December 20, 2012

Nah. . . it must be a fake.



This has to be the video of the week. Though it's a little hard to see, after falling down like bowling pins, all the cows immediately get up again, almost in unison. Herd animals, I guess. My question is: does the truck hit somebody at .12? SOMETHING gets in the way of the truck which swerves to avoid it, but is it a person? For a minute I thought it was a stray cow.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Syrup suckers


$18M Quebec maple syrup heist leads to arrests

5 more suspects sought by investigators

CBC News


 
Police are looking for five other people in connection to last summer's heist. (CBC)

 





An investigation into a massive maple syrup theft from a Quebec warehouse last summer has led to the arrest of three people, who are due to face charges in court today.

Between August 2011 and July 2012, thieves got away with 9,600 barrels of maple syrup worth approximately $18 million from a warehouse in Saint-Louis-de-Blandford, about 95 kilometres southwest of Quebec City.

Richard Vallières, 34, of Loretteville and Avik Caron, 39, of Saint-Wenceslas, along with a third person arrested without a warrant face charges of theft, conspiracy, handling stolen goods and fraud.


 

 

Syrup Suckers (a seasonal meditation)

 

They have no holiday spirit

these men

(or at least we kind of hope they’re men

though

we're not sure about that Avik Caron character

what sort of name is Avik anyway, not a proper

Canadian name

but I’d be shocked if he was a she

for what sort of woman would suck up
 
so much forbidden fluid?)

and we don’t even know for sure

how they sucked it up, did they use a wet-dry vac

an underground pipeline

or did they just plain

cart it away
 


 

One o’ dese guys is from Saint-Wenceslas

and truly, I resent the implications

of that name

at this festive time of year

 

The maple syrup heist has far-reaching ramifications,

as it looks like Santa’s pancake breakfasts

will be a little on the dry side

with only Aunt Jemima’s “no sugar added”

as a soulless substitute

 


 

Just imagine

After all the hard work of tappin’ them trees

Hangin’ up tin buckets, you know the ones

Making them give up their precious sap

Drip by drip by drip

Then boiling it for about a million hours

Then putting it up in dem-dar vats

(or whatever they are, barrels I think)

then just having them cart it off like that

as if it was nothing



 


Maple syrup is a symbol of our home and native land

(one little, two little, three Canadians)

so we can't just let it all go like that

about a billion barrels

smuggled into Thailand or something

I mean that really bad part

We owe the world our syrup

We are a misunderstood nation




and who was it who said Canadians

are just a bunch of sapsuckers

(or was it syrup suckers?)

It was one-o-dem

wiseacre American ignorami

who know nothing about such matters

and never mind that stuff they make in Vermont
 



 

but it looks like that stuff they make in Vermont

is going to be just about it for the world supply

Quebec’s bitter loss is Vermont’s sweet syrupy gain

until those guys from Wenceslas strike again

tipping the golden barrels of the world

into their filthy coffers

Fie on them, fie

It’s the most wonderful time of the year

and it’s no time to be sucking up all our syrup

leaving us parched pancakes and dessicated waffles

and none-o-dem-dar cookies shaped like a leaf, you know,

them

 

 

what’s got that maple stuff inside.