Archive for the ‘Lorca’ Tag

“. . . From Where I Sit, Rust Looks Pretty Good”   3 comments

Christmas 2012Old Rusty Tractor — Image by kenne

Last night I spent over three hours watching the documentary, “History of The Eagles.” I love every minute of it!

The documentary, which had its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival last January, is in two parts and is currently on Showtime and can be purchased on DVD, or streamed — there are so many options in today’s digital would.

Like most rock ‘n roll bands, much of their creativity comes from the battles with their demons, which are the vital spirits of creative imagination. For me their music takes the listener to an extrasensory event that is seeking Lorca’s “Duende,” ” . . a momentary burst of inspiration, the blush of all that is alive, all that the performer is creating at a certain moment.” This is what makes music intoxicating.

So, “What’s with the rusty old tractor?” you ask.

One of the things that stood out the most in the Eagles documentary was something Don Henley said near the end, when he referenced a Neil Young quote about quitting before you rust. The reference was about music, or was it?

Most of us who have lived with the music of the Eagles are beginning to feel old and rusty, but Henley put a new perspective on it:

“I don’t see rust as a bad thing. I have an old 1962 John Deere tractor that’s covered in rust, but it runs like a top. You know the inner workings are just fine. To me, that rust symbolizes all the work done and all the experiences gained. From where I sit, rust looks pretty good.”

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
“Relax, ” said the night man,
“We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave! “

— from the Eagles, “Hotel California”

kenne

12artsbeat-eagles-blog480Glenn Fry and Don Henley of The Eagles — Sam Jones/Showtime

One of the best covers of an Eagles song is that of Tucson native, Linda Ronstadt – Desperado (Simple Dreams Tour – Atlanta 1977)

Where The Desert Touches The Sea — Puerto Peñasco   2 comments

Why, Arizona

Why, Arizona

Disregarding our “laced with fear” friends, Tom Markey and I drove Ajo Way (Arizona 86 Highway) out of Tucson to Puerto Peñasco, Mexico. The drive, most of which is through the Tohono O’odham Nation, is a very picturesque drive to Why, Arizona in the Sonoran desert.

On The Way To Why

The road is long,
a straight blacktop
across the land
of the Tohono O’odham.

Each passing mile
stirring up reflections
while pondering
each crucifix
with plastic flowers —

conquering my thoughts
drifting in and out
of my soul
wondering why,
why-not,
on the way
of leftover dreams.

— kenne
(The Sonoran desert has awaken my yearning for the spiritual allowing me to feel the mysterious anguish of all things.)

Tom and Pedro

Tom and Pedro

We drove through the communities of Sells, Why and Lukeville before crossing the border about 80 miles north of Puerto Peñasco (Rocky Point). This sea-shore desert town is at the north end of the Gulf of California on the narrow strip of land that connects Baja California with the rest of Mexico.

Our plan was to have Pedro (the boat owner who has taken Tom fishing in the past) take us fishing in the Gulf. However, given the neuropathy Tom was still experiencing from his last chemo (#6) session, and after meeting with Pedro, we decided fishing would be left for another day.

Now Tom and I would have more time to walk the beach discussing poetry, philosophy and life stories.

Tom had brought alone the bilingual edition of Federico Garcia Lorca‘s Collected Poems. I don’t recall my having discussed Lorca with Tom, but he soon learned of my love for the man, his daemonic genius and ability to invoke the duende in his poetry. 

“I want to summon up all the good will, all the purity of intention I have, because like all true artists I yearn for my poems to reach your hearts and cause the communication of love among you, forming the marvelous chain of spiritual solidarity that is the chief end to any work of art.” — from Lorca’s “Lecture,” Poet In New York

Until moving to the desert southwest, it was Lorca’s writings that served as a substitute for what was absent, since nothing is as it should be. I had a powerful desire to move from the there to the here and until I could be more in the presentplanting roots in the spirituality of the border lands — invoking a deep trance-like emotion, his poetry satisfied the desire .

Ed Hirsch & Yard Photos

KenneTurner, Edward Hirsch and Dave Parsons

In his book, The Demon and The Angel, Edward Hirsch writes that duende (or the demon) and the angel are vital spirits of creative imagination, two figures for a power that dwells deep within us:

“Lorca’s myriad crystal tambourines wounding the new day are fresh poetic fact, an extrasensory event that strikes the reader or listener as something that has been creatively added to nature, something beyond natural or even metaphorical description, something visionary.”

As we drove the Tohono O’odham land, the land of the “Desert People,” so much around us began to invoke the presence of duende, a feeling I continue to try to express, but remains beyond description, while allowing a spiritual absolute — “toward which all artistic endeavor, especially music and literature, seems to tend.”

 

Tom Markey On The Beach At Mayan Palace

Tom Markey On The Beach At Mayan Palace

The poet is the medium
of Nature
who explains her greatness
by means of words.

The poet understands
all that is incomprehensible,
and things that hate each other
he calls friends.

He knows that all paths
are impossible
and thus he walks them
calmly in the night.

— Federico Garcia Lorca

kenne

Rocky Point

Where The Desert Touches The Beach

“The duende does not come at all unless he sees that death is possible,” Lorca wrote in “Deep Song.”

Malagueña

Death
goes in and out
of the tavern.

Black horses
and sinister people
pass along the Sunken roads
of the guitar.

There’s an odor of slat
and female blood
in the feverish spikenard
along the shore.

Death
goes in and out,
out and in
of the tavern goes
death.

— Federico Garcia Lorca

“All that has black sounds has duende.”

%d bloggers like this: