Christina Rossetti, Poet, Sister of the Pre-Raphaelites

Dante Gabriel Rossetti's work featured women in the conventional Victorian perception of either the virginal  unspoiled Madonna or the fallen woman or temptress in need of rescue by man. Never is she a player in her own right but merely the object of the viewer's gaze alone. His sister, the poet Christina Rossetti, an admirer of the Pre-Raphaelite movement, was equally captivated by medievalism and fantasy, and frequently used women in her work as did her brother, however the similarity ends there. Christina's poetry depicted women as the victims of men  and the avengers of those victims. Her fallen women are not saved by men but by their own resolve or by the assistance of other women. This remains the fundamental question that separates the two siblings work - who was it that maligned or mistreated the woman; and who was it that should deliver them their freedom and well-being?

              

Christina Rossetti sketched by her brother Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

The Pre-Raphaelites desired to instill in the art of their period a new sense of realism and symbolism, an appreciation for spiritual love, and a fascination with medievalism and British history and mythology along with their concept of the beloved. There is often love but never an expression of pure joy. Beauty is prized but it never overrides the difficulty of life. Christina's poetry likewise depicts love without happiness; love which is often painful, unfulfilled, challenging and always wronged at the hand of men. After the death of her brother Dante Gabriel, Christina lived as a recluse at home concentrating on her religious life. She died of cancer on Dec. 29, 1894.


In An Artist's Studio by Christina Rossetti


One face looks out from all his canvases,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens,
A saint, an angel -- every canvas means
The same one meaning, neither more nor less.
He feeds upon her face by day and night,
And she with true kind eyes looks back on him,
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light:
Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
Not as she is, but as she fills his dream. 

Happy 1st Birthday Sanctuaries, Dreams and Shadows!

My blog, Sanctuaries, Dreams and Shadows, is one year old this week, and I am so very proud of that! I never imagined I would have a blog. I even thought that the word "blog" was silly, or to say you were a "blogger"! And the whole idea of web diaries basically seemed narcissistic, as does the entire social networking craze in some ways! Besides, who cares what I am doing every minute of every day? And why is that important? Yet I do go to Facebook occasionally, and Facebook Networked Blogs and I use Twitterfeed for my blog, and Zimbio, Blogflux, Creative Souls, Indiepublic and others, and sites like Pingoat to ping my latest blogs. So why do I do it?

I write because I am, just as I make art and garden because I am. I have always written, from journaling and poetry to personal interest stories for newspapers, including hockey stories in regional newspapers when my son was playing hockey. Initially I chose to blog as a way to promote my etsy.com shop. But very soon, I realized I was blogging because I loved it and the sense of being connected to a larger consciousness it provided.

Being an artist or a writer is solitary, isolated work by it's very nature. It draws people who are content in spending long hours alone with one's muse. As a child, making art was an essential escape from an abusive home life to a world of my own making where I felt safe and secure. In my fifth decade I learned that no place is really safe from heartbreak, no solitary life isolated enough to hush a grieving soul. But my art allows me to tell my stories, guides me through the dark times, and express my true self - as does writing. It has awakened my voice, it feeds my soul and say's, "Here I am!"And that's why I do what I do - because I can't not do it. I seek out the timeless, beautiful, miraculous moments of life to eclipse the darker places, the moonless shadows that surround the edges of our existence.

One of my passions I have chosen to share with you is my love of poetry. Poetry can be a window to the soul. It can be the sound of a heart breaking, a lover laughing, a child weeping, or a lonely spirit entreating. It can be the sound of the wave washing upon the shore or the reflection of sunlight in the tiny mirrored surface of a dewdrop. Art and Poetry both give us that - the joy and sorrow, pain and healing, and the transcendence over life's adversities. It is the voices of those who came before and who steadfastly still hold a lantern up high to light our way in every generation. I hunger to learn about the people behind the words or the images, to understand why they did what they did. They too probably couldn't not do it.

Blogging is about sharing - one's fascinations and ideas, passions and joys, pain and sorrow. It suits one like me with a solitary life who still has a need to relate to other like-minded individuals. I've always believed my audience would find me for that reason: like-minded individuals reaching out from around the globe. That more than anything is what has kept me blogging. I eagerly anticipate my second year in this endeavor and thank you for joining me along the way! I hope you have enjoyed the journey as much as I have!