An eagle-flown sky, almost empty.
Yet the certitude that the sky had been flown, was soon to be flown again. Occasional sightings ...
Eagles soaring thus—visibly, invisibly—in the summit of heaven.
John Taylor, "Eagles of Fortune and Misfortune," The Apocalypse Tapestries
*
I spotted a large raptor on a fence post while driving the other day. It reminded me of the above, though the "eagle-flown sky" that I then saw was a sky in which I had never seen an eagle, but in which there must have once been one.
There's something going on here about defamiliarization—which reminds me that I recently realized that no artistic work that works with defamiliarization can completely defamiliarize the objects or events that it is referring to. If it did, then one would not be able to see the thing anew, because one would not be able to see it at all. "Make it new," but don't make it so new as to be unrecognizable.
Yet the certitude that the sky had been flown, was soon to be flown again. Occasional sightings ...
Eagles soaring thus—visibly, invisibly—in the summit of heaven.
John Taylor, "Eagles of Fortune and Misfortune," The Apocalypse Tapestries
*
I spotted a large raptor on a fence post while driving the other day. It reminded me of the above, though the "eagle-flown sky" that I then saw was a sky in which I had never seen an eagle, but in which there must have once been one.
There's something going on here about defamiliarization—which reminds me that I recently realized that no artistic work that works with defamiliarization can completely defamiliarize the objects or events that it is referring to. If it did, then one would not be able to see the thing anew, because one would not be able to see it at all. "Make it new," but don't make it so new as to be unrecognizable.
No comments:
Post a Comment