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Tag Archives: Vita Sackville West
Quarter of a century since the Sally Potter film “Orlando” was released…something made me almost desperate to watch it just as the ninth wave hit its cusp and it was obvious why. The narrative takes us through both genders; the ever-romantic Orlando switching from male to female when a crisis of masculine identity is reached during a battle yet things prove even less plain-sailing when, as a woman, she is confronted with all the ridiculous social and legal infringements upon that gender’s liberty over the next two centuries. So where is she now, as she sits under a modern-day tree with her daughter by her side looking straight into the camera, a fixed knowing-gaze of such optimism it jolts you inside though a tear tries to form (hers and yours)? All these years later, I feel I know what she means as the film reveals new layers under the spotlight of hindsight; appreciating what was just starting back then, where we have been and where we are still coming to…together.
A remarkably prophetic film (from an equally prophetic novel) and a must watch if you consider yourself an agent of unity consciousness – dip into Orlando with me via this taster of Sally Potter’s still-pristine masterpiece. Continue reading →
The weather that delivered on the day of our long-planned visit to Charleston turned out to be nothing like what I had painted in my head; the sky was tipping water by the bucket-full. But then, of course, everything glistened; the fruit, especially, glistened as though freshly varnished and the petals hugged droplets of water like glass teardrops perfectly poised. We got to marvel at the way the bees knew how to line up with their backs to the wind and hang upside down beneath the flower heads – one on each bloom – until the rainshower was over. We got that kind of light that is clear and crisp, not washed-out and without subtlety as on a typical summer’s day. The velvet reds “zinged” and the greens looked like freshly squeezed life-zest personified; vibrant and rejuvenating to receive with all the senses. One of the gifts was the unexpected juxtaposition of a dripping-wet female form peeking out through vivid wet leaves and abundantly ripe fruit;her wet face had something to tell me and it was nothing at all about tears…”I sleep; I do not weep” were words that came boomeranging back at me later that same weekend in yet another stunning garden and the journey in between turned out to be a labyrinth of self-discovery through a landscape of universal themes. Continue reading →