I often think the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day,
– Vincent Van Gogh
Under cover of darkness lies a timeless fascination. Inspired by the imagery in the poems of Walt Whitman, Van Gogh painted Starry Night (1889) while in an Asylum at Saint-Remy. Perhaps his relationship with night illuminated the clarity and depth of his self-awareness for he sees “under the great starlit vault of heaven… eternity in its place above the world.” In Starry Night Over the Rhone (1888) the stars appear surrounded by their own orb of light and reflected in patterns in the water.
Shakespeare created one of the most enduring nocturnal visions in literature (1597) for Juliet who declares when Romeo dies he will become the stars, and all the world will be in love with night.
When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
When I gaze up at the grandeur of the night sky, I see a thousand possibilities. When darkness falls, gentler more natural rhythms settle in and the limitations of rational thought succumb to the nuances of the night. The restrictions of rules and rulers, spreadsheets and schedules, no longer dominate. The politics of demands and expectations give way, and I am free to entice creative spirits and navigate by the stars.
I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes.
– Anne Bronte (1820 – 1849)
I confess I have the circadian rhythm of a leopard. Perhaps this accounts for my attraction to nocturnal sightings and nighttime encounters in East and South Africa, and journeys down the Amazon. I have witnessed the glowing eyes of alligators, leopards, lions, owls, and more. I have experienced countless Caribbean sunsets melt into darkness enveloped in the night rhythms of tree frogs, cicada, and lizards. Wherever I go, I am drawn to the expansive night, awed by the moon and stars.
Are the insights of the night more profound than the solutions of the day? Like Evening Primrose, Night Blooming Jasmine (Queen of the Night), or Moon Flowers, that bloom in darkness, many artists, writers, and musicians create at night – Henri de Toulouse Lautrec, Marcel Proust, George Sand, Samuel Johnson, Gustave Flaubert, Franz Kafka, Thomas Wolfe, Michael Chabon, Bob Dylan, Glen Gould and more. Yet others with equal brilliance prefer to watch the sunrise, work until noon, and maintain a daily discipline. Diurnal and nocturnal creatures co-exist, like day and night. I tend to side with the nocturnal animals whose survival depends upon instinct, highly developed senses, and adaptable sight.
Night transcends logic, formalities, and boundaries. In the prisms of moonlight and starlight, we are free to ask the larger questions. We sync with the universe – mingle with the spirits.
It is now 4 a.m.
"When darkness falls, gentler more natural rhythms settle in and the limitations of rational thought succumb to the nuances of the night… In the prisms of moonlight and starlight, we are free to ask the larger questions."
As an artist who somehow became a daytime practitioner after college, the beauty of your language makes a compelling case for a return to the darkside.
Martha,
You are a true master with words. Beautiful blog.
Cheers,
Kate
Lovely lyric about the moon, but Michael Ondaatje had the wisdom to crib from good sources. Frank Sinatra and Billie Holiday, among others, have both sung the old standard, “I'll Be Seeing You," which came from a 1938 Tin Pan Alley musical but rose to its own in WWII when hundreds of thousands serving overseas felt the truth in its lines and reused it for their sweethearts.
And lovely lines from you, Martha, on this day of the longest night, when festivals of light and lightness remind us that this winter darkness shall end and summer too will return.
Thanks for the blessings!
The night time is palpable amongst the orange groves in my current abode. Peaceful, starfull and most of all tranquil …. with the smell of ripening oranges – where else to be for Christmas … twinkle twinkle little star….
YEP!
Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They did not listen, They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left insight
On that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you Vincent
This world was never meant for one as
beautiful as you
Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frame less heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow
Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They did not listen they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will
DON McCLEAN
As usual, your words hypnotize and make me understand why the night has always been more compelling than the bleached and tawdry light of the noonday sun. Only for mad dogs and Englishman…..
I look forward to what 2014's nocturnal musings from Martha will offer us. But whatever it is, it will be a midnight feast!
Kathy Leber
Thank you for such compelling insight into the (and your) nocturnally romantic world. Wishing you all the best as we head into 2014.
You are quite right. After your eyes adjust, the darkness is more calm and peaceful.
Irving Berlin was another nightowl. He even wrote a song called "Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning!" which he loved to sing onstage.
Las Vegas, NV used to keep city offices opened through the night to accommodate its citizens–don't know if they still do. Very civilized of them.