Absence disembodies – so does Death (#860)

Absence disembodies – so does Death
Hiding individuals from the Earth
Superstition helps, as well as love -
Tenderness decreases as we prove -

Text by Emily Dickinson
Image by Huey Ko (Copyrighted)

The Province of the Saved (#539)

The Province of the Saved
Should be the Art – To save -
Through Skill obtained in Themselves -
The Science of the Grave

No Man can understand
But He that hath endured
The Dissolution – in Himself -
That Man – be qualified

To qualify Despair
To Those who failing new -
Mistake Defeat for Death – Each time -
Till acclimated – to –

Text by Emily Dickinson
Image by Huey Ko (Copyrighted)

Love is anterior to Life (#917)

Love – is anterior to Life -
Posterior – to Death -
Initial of Creation, and
The Exponent of Earth -

Text by Emily Dickinson
Image by Huey Ko (Copyrighted)

How happy is the little Stone (#1510)

How happy is the little Stone
That rambles in the Road alone,
And doesn’t care about Careers
And Exigencies never fears -
Whose Coat of elemental Brown
A passing Universe put on,
And independent as the Sun
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute Decree
In casual simplicity -

Text by Emily Dickinson
Image by Huey Ko (Copyrighted)

After great pain, a formal feeling comes (#341)

After great pain, a formal feeling comes -
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs -
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The Feet, mechanical, go round -
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought -
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone -

This is the Hour of Lead -
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow -
First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go -

Text by Emily Dickinson
Image by Huey Ko (Copyrighted)

Pain has an Element of Blank (#650)

Pain – has an Element of Blank -
It cannot recollect
When it begun – or if there were
A time when it was not -

It has no Future – but itself -
Its Infinite contain
Its Past – enlightened to perceive
New Periods – of Pain

Text by Emily Dickinson
Image by Huey Ko (Copyrighted)

He fumbles at your Soul (#315)

He fumbles at your Soul
As Players at the Keys
Before they drop full Music on -
He stuns you by degrees -
Prepares your brittle Nature
For the Ethereal Blow
By fainter Hammers – further heard -
Then nearer – Then so slow
Your Breath has time to straighten -
Your Brain – to bubble Cool -
Deals – One – imperial – Thunderbolt -
That scalps your naked Soul –

When Winds take Forests in their Paws -
The Universe – is still -

Text by Emily Dickinson
Image by Huey Ko (Copyrighted)

The Vision and Veto of Emily Dickinson

I have always been drawn to the poetry of Emily Dickinson. Unfettered by any form of orthodoxy, she was exceptionally self assured, preferring the far more rewarding vocation of exploring her own interior landscape rather than capitulating to the codes of societal norms.

This private poet, this enigmatic recluse has, through her life’s work, given us all an insight into the deeper meanings of life and death, love and immortality, sensuality and renunciation.

Adrienne Rich, an American poet once noted, “I have a notion that genius knows itself; that Dickinson chose her seclusion, knowing she was exceptional and knowing what she needed… She carefully selected her society and controlled the disposal of her time… Given her vocation, she was neither eccentric nor quaint; she was determined to survive, to use her powers, to practice necessary economies.” (1)

To practice necessary economies. In life and in words, Dickinson conceived of brevity as “a means of achieving the single moment of intensity.” (2)

As someone who takes photographs, I have an intuitive understanding of what that “moment” means. Just like in a good poem, words on a page are chosen and phrased with a quality of inevitability, so it is with a good image, where elements in a frame come together in that instant which is ephemeral and irreplaceable.

I thought it would be fun to start a project, experimenting with pairing some of her verses that I have enjoyed reading with a few of my own images. Hopefully, viewed through a different lens, new meaning can be found.

All posts will be filed under the category “Project Emily”. Do check in once in a while. Cheers.

(1) Bloom, Harold. “Bloom’s Biocritiques – Emily Dickinson” : Pg 89

(2) Johnson, Thomas. “Final Harvest – Emily Dickinson” : Intro, viii

The world according to Jimmy (几米)

I like to read children’s books. It doesn’t take much effort to read them, but the visceral approach to interpreting meaning is, in my opinion, the best way to receive wisdom. When there is logical insanity, where nonsense makes sense, what is left is the insight of one who knows nothing at all.

I have a soft spot for the Taiwanese illustrator, Jimmy. His books kept me company when I was living alone in the rural backwaters of northwest China. There was a documentary profiling him on Discovery Channel the other day and that motivated me to reread some of his books.

His work has a quality of melancholy, with a touch of grace and irreverent humour. Asked to describe his appeal, he simply says that he draws in order to seek comfort for himself. But in his intense pursuit of personal salvation, he has lifted up many more.

More than 10 years ago, Jimmy was diagnosed with leukemia. The drawings and poetry that he created during that time was compiled into a book called “Beautiful Solitude”. This is one of my favorite passages. I tried translating it into English, but it was really bad. Really. So I’m only putting up the original Chinese text. Suffice it to say, it involves conversations with a bunch of flowers in the garden contemplating the magical powers of the sun and the moon. Go figure. Or not.

Illustration by Jimmy Liao, from the book “Beautiful Solitude”

向日葵告诉我,

只要面对着阳光努力向上,

日子就会变得单纯又美好.

前些日子,

我偷偷地把这秘密告诉花园里的野花,

他们全都兴奋极了.

后来他们也悄悄地对我说

其实面对着月亮,

也能达到同样的效果,

只是会稍稍慢一些罢了.

How will God play politics

I came across this article in the NY Times about the situation in Tibet that is thankfully lacking the hubris we see in most of the mainstream press but which takes a pragmatic view of the political forces at play.

Pascal’s observation that justice without power is impotent; power without justice is tyrannical sadly rings true in the case of what is happening in Tibet. Last year, Kelsang Phuntsok, then-president of the Tibetan Youth Congress said, “We are like the panda bears of international politics. Everyone cuddles us, but no one does anything serious on our behalf. We must take fate into our own hands.” Prescient words that are now coming true in the worst possible way.