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Canoe
Well, I am thinking this may be my last
summer, but cannot lose even a part
of pleasure in the old-fashioned art
of idleness. I cannot stand aghast
at whatever doom hovers in the background
while grass and trees and the somnolent river
who know they are allowed to last for ever
exchange between them the whole subdued sound
of this hot time. What sudden fearful fate
can deter my shade wandering next year
from a return? Whistle, and I will hear
and come another evening when this boat
travels with you alone towards Iffley:
as you lie looking up for thunder again,
this cool touch does not betoken rain;
it is my spirit that kisses your mouth lightly.
Keith Douglas
Wuramon, soul canoe with figures of turtles, birds and humans
Asmat people, Central Asmat region, south coast of West Papua
Mid C20th
Taken in Oceania
(September — December 2018)
The year is 1768, and Britain is in the throes of the Age of Enlightenment. As a group of artists agrees to found the Royal Academy, Captain James Cook sets sail on a voyage of discovery to track the transit of Venus and search for terra australis incognita – the unknown southern continent, as Europeans called it. What Cook and his crew encounter on arrival is a vast number of island civilisations covering almost a third of the world’s surface: from Tahiti in Polynesia, to the scattered archipelagos and islands of Melanesia and Micronesia.
The indigenous populations they met came with their own histories of inter-island trade, ocean navigation, and social and artistic traditions. This spectacular exhibition reveals these narratives – celebrating the original, raw and powerful art that in time would resonate across the European artistic sphere.
Oceania brings together around 200 exceptional works from public collections worldwide, and spans over 500 years. From shell, greenstone and ceramic ornaments, to huge canoes and stunning god images, we explore important themes of voyaging, place making and encounter. The exhibition draws from rich historic ethnographic collections dating from the 18th century to the present, and includes seminal works produced by contemporary artists exploring history, identity and climate change.
[Royal Academy]
Labor Day weekend, and the canoes at the lake are being brought out of the water, for cleaning and storage over the winter. It'll be fall soon, the temperatures will slowly drop, the trees will turn colors, the lake will be filled with migratory waterfowl, but there won't be any canoes. Oh there will be fishing boats, brought there by avid fishermen. But when the canoes come up, it's a sure sign that fall is coming.
Fall is my favorite time of year. There's camping, weenie roasts, beautiful colors, and frost on the pumpkin (as they say). But it also brings with it a certain melancholy, a wistful remembrance of the past summer with all its life and vitality, and a dreadful looking forward to the bitterness of winter. It is the winter that I dislike the most. Cold and dormant, life buried within bundling layers, it is only good for fireplaces and blankets, reflecting on the past year, making plans for the next, and making sure that the freshness of spring has something to be compared to.
Yes, the canoes mean winter is coming. And so I took their picture, a tribute to summer. It was a great summer. One I'll remember for the rest of my life.