Thursday, April 23, 2009

biannual

Ahhh, my FINAL semester in college is drawing to a close. I successfully defended my thesis two weeks ago, and all I have left is to write this post, record a couple of podcasts (keep your eyes peeled for those in the very near future), and some other finishing touches. I'm a little sad that my life as a student is ending, but mostly excited that my life as an adult in the real world is beginning!

bi⋅an⋅nu⋅al 
1. occurring twice a year; semiannual.
2. occurring every two years; biennial.

For me, this was the toughest "word of the day" yet, because it seems less open to interpretation than the other words. So it took me a little bit, but thanks to my favorite search engine I was able to come up with something great, and also learn something new:



The above photo, captured by amateur photographer Sandra Critelli, shows the vast expanse of magnificent stingrays that animates the bright blue seas of the Gulf of Mexico semiannually - north in the late spring and south in late autumn. Taken off the coast of Mexico's Holbox this breathtaking picture captures the migration of thousands of rays as they follow the clockwise current from Mexico's Yucatan peninsula to western Florida.

Measuring up to 6ft 6in across, poisonous golden cow-nose rays migrate in groups - or "fevers," as they are known - of up to 10,000 as they glide their way silently towards their summer feeding grounds. There are around 70 species of stingray in the world's oceans, but these cow-nose rays have distinctive, high-domed heads. Despite their placid looks, they are still armed with a poisonous stinger, which can be deadly to humans - even though sharks, their main predators, are more likely to provoke them. The stinger, a razor-sharp spine that grows from the creature's whip-like tail, can reach almost 15 inches in length and carries a large dose of venom. It was a similar stinger that killed the well known and beloved "Crocodile Hunter," Steve Irwin in 2006. But even equipped with this powerful punch, cow-nose stingrays are shy and non-threatening in large 'fevers'. Even when isolated, they will attack only when cornered or threatened.

Below is a video of the famous migration... enjoy!

Sunday, April 12, 2009

diaphanous

di·aph·a·nous
1.Of such fine texture as to be transparent or translucent: diaphanous tulle.
2.Characterized by delicacy of form.
3. Vague or insubstantial: diaphanous dreams of glory.


Diaphanous, for some reason, reminded me of the word "phantom", which seems actually kind of in tune to this word of the day. "Phantom", in turn, lead me to think about "La Llorona," or "the weeping woman." She is a popular legend in Spanish speaking cultures, and her story varies from country to country. The basic version is that she was a beautiful woman who killed her children to be with the man that she loved, and was subsequently rejected by him. He might have been the children's father, and left her mother for another woman, or he might have been a man she loved, but who was uninterested in a relationship with a woman with children, and whom she thought she could win if the children were out of the way. She drowned the children then killed herself, and is doomed to wander, searching for her children, always weeping. In some cases, according to the tale, she will kidnap wandering children.

La Llorona has also appeared in modern American media. Convicted murderer Susan Smith, for example, who drowned her two sons after being rejected by a male she was interested in, appeared in a cartoon in Time magazine that compared her to La Llorona.

Her legend also exists here in the United States, as per this milk commercial released in parts of California in 2004:

Thursday, April 2, 2009

acedia

a⋅ce⋅di⋅a 
–noun
1. apathy or boredom.
2. laziness or indifference in religious matters.

Again I'm compelled to discuss the cooky Spanish painter, Salvador Dalí.


There was a period in his life where his paintings began to exhert a mental tiredeness, an acedia, if you will. In 1934 Dalí sent a letter to Josep Vicenç Foix i Mas telling his friend not to dwell too much on "my physical depression, as it is a very frequent occurence among people of our type. Despite my priveleged (as you suppose) position of a painter, I've had moments of irational anxiety without any conscious motive" (Etherington-Smith, 173).

There are a number of reasons why Dalí may have wearing down, so to speak. It has been speculated that his wife Gala's sexuality was beginning to tire him. Their sexual relationship, always delicately balanced, had degenerated into voyeurism. Henri Pastoreau, a student on the fringe of the Surrealist circle, attended "sexual investigation sessions" conducted by Gala and Dalí. These explored the particpants' sexual behavior and fantasies. No women other than Gala were allowed to attend, and Gala, according to Pastoreau, "wouldn't hesitate to describe in the crudest detail her wildest debaucheries, but she always added that surgery had stopped her from continuing with this." Dalí was almost always quiet during these sessions, unless he had "some new and delirious fantasy, always of a scatalogical kind." On other occasions, Gala would make love to men in front of Dalí, once with her former husband, Paul Éluard.
This sense of boredom can be seen particularly well in three paintings from 1934-1935:


My Cousin Carolineta on the Beach at Roses


Atmospheric Skull Sodomozing a Grand Piano


Atavistic Dusk


It has also been speculated that his relationship with famous Andalusian poet Frederico García Lorca was at the forefront of his mind while painting these pieces, but that's another post all together.

These paintings portray Cape Creus, Dalí's hometown, and suggest that the painter was looking at his childhood, adolescence and early youth for inspiration. This was a time before Gala had changed his life forever. It has thus been speculated that Dalí's marriage had become a sort of prison for him. He was dependent on Gala for everything except his work. She was both a mother and wife to him (he had lost his mother at the age of 16), but she was also incredibly demanding. At this point in Dalí's life, his work was the most important link between the two of them. Perhaps in his state of acedia he foresaw a fate that he knew he could never escape.

Work cited:
Etherington-Smith, Meredith. The Persistence of Memory: A Biography of Dalí. London: Sinclair-Stevenson, 1992.