Tag Archives: ground beneath her feet

I love it when my favourite people intersect:

All of the lyrics are Rushdie’s, taken directly from the book. It’s so rare to have music from a book actually put to music. It makes it come to fruition, somehow, like a play that’s finally staged. I also love the author cameo at the beginning, and you’ve got to admire/roll your eyes at Bono’s guts for singing a song from a book about Orpheus.

On a slightly related note, I’ve been slowly fallingĀ  love with Leonard Cohen’s music, especially Halleluja. It’s a testament to his brilliance as a songwriter that I can’t actually pick a favourite version. I think I like K.D. Lang’s best – she really does have the perfect voice for this: Read More


I’m reading Salman Rushdie’s Ground Beneath her Feet right now. I’m not very far in, so don’t ask me. What I do find interesting is that he chose a photographer as his narrator. I’m sure the reason for it will become clear if I get more than, you know, 15 pages in, but it got me thinking. On the one hand, photographers are, by definition, nothing more than observers. Light goes into the camera, and they capture it. That’s all. Passive.

But on the other hand, they create the world they capture on a far more fundamental level than any other medium. Poets create their own world (and the sea, whatever self it had, became the self that was her song, for she was the maker), but we expect that. We don’t expect to see the world in a poem. We excpect to see Wallace Stevens’ world. In a photograph though, we expect to see the world as it is, the thing-in-itself. But that’s not really what it is, is it? A photographer doesn’t just capture light, he chooses which light to capture; he chooses angles and colours and focus and arrangement. So they impose their own minds on their work and their audience in a far more powerful way than any other artist, because their audience is less prepared.

That’s all pretty cliche, but what makes it interesting for me right now (and, keep in mind, it IS 2 in the morning), is what happens when you combine that with Frost’s idea that through the imagination, you can actually reshape the world around you for your own benefit. Frost always leaves the implicit caveat that this reshaping is purely imaginary: you’re not actually making the moon a companion (Old Man’s Winter Night), you’re just calling her one to make yourself feel better. Photography, however, gives us a way to reshape the world, but then capture that reshaping in a concrete way, and even share it with others; even, sometimes, convince others that your reshaping is reality.

Then again, it IS 2 in the morning. I don’t know if that actually made any sense. I may delete this post tomorrow. But g’night for now everyone.