Open To Interpretation
The Black Cape
She's come to wave
Her black cape again,
Right in front of your nose,
And you all dreamy
Sniffing a white rose.
Just as well,
Standing up straight
She's sure to put you down,
Your blood on her black cape.
Notes: hmmph...reference the Disney cartoon character, Ferdinand the Bull...thought to revisit Ferdinand, and make something comic, but it came out gothic, as usual!...sigh...was going to work the word matador into it, the female tense, which is I gather, matadora, or torera, or toredora, the latter being made up by Georges Bizet for his opera Carmen as it was easier to rhyme, or some such...hmmph...and finding that turned up Conchita Cintron, the Golden Goddess, slayer of bulls, and not incidentally the mother of numerous children and breeder of rare pedigree dogs...750 bulls, it would seem the official records report...and somehow, Orson Welles had it that her accomplishment proved what men can do women can do as well...I doubt if that is why alone she was so widely popular...she was cute, and handled a sword, which is the staple of many a fantasy pictorial of fantasy heroines!...
"Her record stands as a rebuke to every man of us who has ever maintained that a woman must lose something of her femininity if she seeks to compete with men." —Orson Welles.
ah, well...thinking on the psychology of Ferdinand, and bull fighting, I thought to google: Freud bull fighting...one can put Freud beside anything and get...most anything!..ral...anyway, I find myself looking into a reflection of my own black mirror mirror notions...
The meaning of bullfighting is open to interpretation (as long as the bull is strong and the bullfighter knows what he is doing). The spectator has flashes of intuition that come about from the sheer emotionality of the event. These small flashes open the door to seeing different meanings, to nuances, to another sensibility. Later, from intuition, we usually try to create theories. But the theory is never true. It is just a possibility that we verbalize, just one interpretation that expands our comprehension. There is no “one truth”. It’s more like a dream: we have small images and feelings, but as we try to articulate them, they become foggy or disappear. Bullfighting is an ephemeral art and its meaning is also fleeting. Theories attempt to rationalize it and hold on to a meaning, but the truth of it always escapes us.
from an interview with Paco Pereda, who is...
Paco Pereda was born in San Sebastían, Spain in 1958. He studied education and philosophy in university, with a focus on the philosophy of cultural anthropology. He carried out his field work in Morocco. He teaches at the University of the Basque Country in San Sebastían. Since 1992, he has been teaching Spanish history and culture to American college students who study abroad in Spain.
that statement could begin with, "The meaning of Greek tragedy..." and it would probably make better sense...insightful as it is, bullfighting is public torture, the crowd much the same that gathered around the guillotine, lynchings, and such...in most countries these gatherings have moved into dark theaters to watch on silver screens tortures in dramas and adventure tales...and Paco goes on to say...
PP: I don’t have special faith in one theory or the other; they are just tools that can help us. What happens with the bulls is what happens with classical art: someone is always proposing a new argument or thesis. None ever stick, though. The meaning remains open to interpretation and speculation. Like the effect of a mirror, when we seek to explain bullfighting we are really explaining ourselves, how we think, how we feel.
The process of interpreting is an interesting one. We really have to dig out our own subconscious. As the American anthropologist C. Geertz said, we encounter a “dark clarity” or a “clear darkness”. If we over explain things, we kill intuition. When we put too much light on some truth we suddenly grasp, it ceases to be true. We need a dark obscurity to keep on feeding emotions, to keep the function of the theatrical alive in our lives.
from same site
hmmmph...I suppose at some point myself I'll stop belaboring the conceit of the color black!...
To stay warm, Petra sat close to her driftwood fire
On the black sand beach,
Her arms around her knees,
And sang to the Stars
And the Ebony Dolphins
Riding the phosphorescent waves.