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The soul hast to stay where it is,
even though restless, hearing raindrops at the pane,
the signing of autumn leaves thrashed by the wind,
longing to be free, outside, but it must stay
posing in this place.
John Ashbery, Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror
even though restless, hearing raindrops at the pane,
the signing of autumn leaves thrashed by the wind,
longing to be free, outside, but it must stay
posing in this place.
John Ashbery, Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror
When I was a very young reader, I used to spend a lot of time at BJ’s Used Books in Warrenton, VA. There were many copies of John Ashbery’s Self-Portrait floating on the shelves, and I immediately disliked the book (what struck me then as the self-indulgence of the cover & title)
This is the ungenerous nature of ignorance. I didn’t know Ashbery’s work, or his life, and we didn’t read him in my US lit survey classes at the community college. If I remember right, I did not even open the book and look inside.
Fifteen years pass, and I’m nearing the end of a PhD in early modern poetry when I rediscover Self-Portrait, and realize (with a jar!) that in his long title poem, Ashbery has fallen in love with an early modern painting by Parmigianino, and that painting titles his book.
There’s a little more history about Ashbery writing Self-Portrait here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Self-Portrait_in_a_Convex_Mirror_(poetry_collection)
And the poem is one of my favorites now; it’s a quintessential winter poem—about art, the soul, love, surfaces. It shows the generous creativity and gift-giving of ekphrastic work.
And the poem is one of my favorites now; it’s a quintessential winter poem—about art, the soul, love, surfaces. It shows the generous creativity and gift-giving of ekphrastic work.
I very much repent my flash-judgment; it would take years of reading and following a love of language to be a better reader of Ashbery (and the right teacher could have speeded the process along!).
A reminder that we change across time, and that can be a beautiful thing.
A reminder that we change across time, and that can be a beautiful thing.
*sighing not signing (sigh)
