Lowell's Castle

         Today’s fantasy poem is by James Russell Lowell (USA, 1819-1891) and is really more about fantasy than being true fantasy itself.  This was published in 1869, I think.

Aladdin

When I was a beggarly boy
  And lived in a cellar damp,
I had not a friend nor a toy,
  But I had Aladdin's lamp;
When I could not sleep for the cold,
  I had fire enough in my brain,
And builded, with roofs of gold,
  My beautiful castles in Spain!

Since then I have toiled day and night,
  I have money and power good store,
But I'd give all my lamps of silver bright
  For the one that is mine no more;
Take, Fortune, whatever you choose,
  You gave, and may snatch again;
I have nothing 'twould pain me to lose,
  For I own no more castles in Spain!

        This is not an autobiographical poem, as Lowell was very far from being a beggarly boy, and grew up not in a cellar damp, but in a magnificent estate in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  On the other hand, perhaps it told more about his future than his past, as in 1877 Lowell was appointed to be Ambassador to Spain.  (However, with the early death of 3 of his 4 children he did certainly know plenty about lost dreams.)

        The sentiment this poem illustrates is, on the one hand, something I always agree with: the value of imagination and the tragedy of its loss among so many adults.  On the other hand, this is a somewhat tritely overblown statement of the sentiment.  What led me to choose this poem today, though, is that I’ve been reading Hope For Cynics: The Surprising Science of Human Goodness by Jamil Zaki, and I’m tying this poem in with the idea of how so many of us are growing more cynical.  Zaki’s point is not only that we’re living in an epidemic of cynicism (which is just as damaging to health as many physical issues!), but also that we can choose to be skeptical of the forces that encourage cynicism.  We can, in short, reclaim that Aladdin’s lamp that tells us bright things are possible!

        The stories and poems in my new book Bittersweetness & Light are also part of my attempt to spread that message and invite readers back to the lamp.  That castle in Spain is still standing, and there’s plenty of room, so come on in!

[Picture: Castle on a Cloud, linocut by Brian Reedy (Image from the artist’s web site BrianReedy.bigcartel.com).]

BOOK RELEASE!

        Bittersweetness & Light has officially been released and is now available far and wide!  This collection of magical speculative fiction short stories, poems, and art is printed in a larger format than your average paperback, in full color, with decorations throughout and notes at the end.  From love potions to alien spores and from dream fish to a puzzled ghost, find magic that can be knitted, glimpsed from the kitchen window, or assembled from a flat-pack kit.  In twelve fantastical short stories, ten evocative poems, and dozens of whimsical relief block prints, this magical collection invites you to look for goodness, find joy, and share reasons for hope.

        To celebrate, today I’m sharing a few of the block prints included in the book.  I’ve chosen representatives of three different categories.  Up first is “After Rain,” which is included in the book as an illustration with the short story “The Rainlings.”  I made this rubber block print in 2022, before I wrote the short story.  The story was not based on the illustration, but it did spring from some of the same inspirations that had given rise to the block print.  Therefore, when I needed an illustration for the story, it was natural to go back to this piece - even though in the story the Rainlings are a little bigger and fit only one house per raindrop.

        Today’s second piece, on the other hand, was made explicitly to illustrate a poem included in the book, “Fire on the Wind.”  (The poem in this case is much older, but I never thought about illustrating it until putting together the book.)  Although this is a small piece, it’s fairly complicated.  The background is a reduction print with three layers (more on reduction prints here).  The dragon itself is a separate tiny block printed onto the background.  I experimented with two kinds of ink for this one: regular printing ink and also archival stamp pad ink.  The latter ended up being a bit of a problem and in several impressions the ink spread and became mushy-looking.  Because a reduction print destroys the block during the process, I can’t go back and print new impressions to replace the ones I’ve thrown out, so there are now simply a few holes in the edition.

        Finally I include today an example of a third kind of image I made for the book.  These were made to include in the book as illustrations for a poem, but unlike the other two shown today, they aren’t exactly real block prints.  Rather, they’re digital collages of elements cut from other block prints I've done.  Indeed, you should be able to recognize the background of the moon!  A few of the stories and poems needed illustrations that I didn’t think warranted a whole edition of actual block prints that probably wouldn’t have much of a market to sell on their own, and that’s when I use the digital method instead.

        So that’s a little behind-the-scenes of some of the art included in this book.  If you’re curious to read the whole thing, please check it out on amazon, Barnes & Noble, or directly from me.  Consider putting in a request with your local library and they might stock a copy.  And if you do read it and enjoy this book, please consider posting a review and telling any friends or family who might also enjoy it.  More than ever this world needs us to build the connections of sharing with each other the things that bring us joy, and I’d love to get this book launched in that spirit.

[Pictures: After Rain, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2022 (originals sold out);

Fire on the Wind, rubber block reduction print by AEGNydam, 2024 (Image from Nydam Prints);

Tiny Galaxy, Day and Night, digital collage of elements scanned from rubber block prints by AEGNydam, 2024 (Images from Bittersweetness & Light).]

The Flight Into Egypt

         As our communities brace for threatened mass deportations of immigrants carried out by people who claim to speak for Christianity, it seems a good time to continue my series of block prints covering the Christmas story, and move to the next chapter: the Flight into Egypt.

        Not long after the visit from the Three Wise Men (see block prints in my previous post), Joseph was warned in a dream that Herod wanted to kill the baby Jesus, and that he should take his family into another country where they would be safe from persecution.  They went to Egypt, where they lived for about four years as immigrant refugees, until it was safe from them to return to their homeland.  Given that Jesus preached so much about welcoming the stranger, I can’t help thinking that his own family’s experience as refugees informed his understanding of how to

love “neighbors” in a much more inclusive sense.

        The image of the Flight into Egypt has been a popular one to illustrate.  I’ll start once again with Albrecht Dürer, whose version is beautifully detailed with a little bridge, date palms, grapevines, an ox along for the journey, and a cloud of putti in the upper right.  Mary is smiling, though Joseph seems to be a little bowed down by his concerns.

        Albrecht Altdorfer, working at around the same time, has a less technically virtuosic version, but I still like it.  This time Joseph’s face is turned away and Jesus looks a bit like a rag doll, but Mary is again smiling gently, no doubt secure in the love that surrounds her.  My favorite parts of this one are the skyline in the distance and the arabesque clouds above.

        Switching gears to a piece from the 1940s, this linocut is by Peter Agostini, which includes only Mary, Jesus, and the donkey.  I don’t much like this one!  Mary looks like the Emperor’s Royal Guard from Star Wars (good thing she’s at least painted in blue instead of red), and she’s all out of proportion for the poor muppet-faced donkey.  Still, it’s variety, right?

        Moving on, here’s a twentieth century one I like much better, by C. Pál Molnár.  This has lots of bold, geometric texture to give bold lighting and dark shadows.  Mary isn’t smiling here, but she is looking down at the baby held to her heart.  Joseph just looks tired.  Like Altdorfer, we’ve got a town in the background, and like Dürer we’ve got angels in the sky.  These angels, however, are huge and sturdy as a roof!

        I kept my focus pretty narrow in selecting these versions, and there are two popular types of “Flight into Egypt” I did not represent.  As artists were beginning to explore landscape as a subject in its own right, they often used the Holy Family’s journey as an excuse to paint large, beautiful landscapes.  Today, however, I chose block prints that focus more on the family rather than the landscape through which they travel.  I’ve also chosen pieces that show them on the road, rather than resting idyllically beneath a palm, which was another popular trope.  “The Rest on the Flight into Egypt” always makes a point of how miraculously they were cared for, but I think we should remember that leaving your home is never easy, and fleeing into the unknown because you're desperate to protect your family is even harder.  I hope we can all remember that whatever we do for the least of these brothers and sisters, we do to that family who had to flee their homeland and seek refuge in a foreign country two thousand years ago.

[Pictures: The Flight into Egypt, woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, ca. 1503-5 (Image from The Cleveland Museum of Art);

The Flight into Egypt, woodcut by Albrecht Altdorfer, ca. 1515 (Image from The Cleveland Museum of Art);

Flight into Egypt, linocut with watercolor by Peter Agostini, 1940s (Image from The Philadelphia Museum of Art);

Flight into Egypt, wood engraving by C. Pál Molnár, 1933 (Image from The Cleveland Museum of Art).]

Words of the Month - Plain Sailing (Part II)

         English is full of so many idioms with nautical origins that I had to split my selection of them into two posts.  This is the second, so if you want to read about the first half, you can find them at Plain Sailing Part I, which I posted back in September.  And now without further ado, here’s the scuttlebutt on some more…

by and large - sailing alternately into the wind (by) and close to the wind (large).  A vessel sailing by and large is covering a range, giving (from about 1665) a metaphorical sense of “for the most part.”  Note, while we’re here, that we also have the metaphor of sailing close to the wind for doing something risky.

dead in the water - originally a ship without wind, utterly without means to move

take the wind out of someone’s sails - If you block the wind from reaching a ship’s sails (usually by sailing upwind of it), you cause them a sudden loss of movement and momentum.  Indeed, they may be dead in the water.

go by the board - fall overboard, the board in both cases being the side of the ship.  The metaphorical sense of being lost or gone is from around 1835.

cut and run - If you need to sail away so quickly that there isn’t time to pull up the anchor, you might just cut it loose.  This entered general use around 1704.

in the offing - in the more distant part of the open sea as seen from shore.  The original metaphor was the distant future (around 1779), but now (since about 1914) it usually implies something impending.

overbearing - originally of a wind that would blow a ship onto its side, but expanded to any overwhelming and repressive force by around 1560.

rummage sale - In the sixteenth century rummage was to stow cargo in a ship’s hold.  That’s where we get the verb of searching through a whole bunch of stuff (and possibly disarranging it).  By around 1800 a rummage sale was a sale of unclaimed goods from a ship’s cargo, sold at the dock.

toe the line - to stand with your toes at a line drawn on the deck,  demonstrating disciplined obedience, from the early 19th century.  (No, the phrase is not “tow the line,” as I have several times seen it written!)

three sheets to the wind - The sheet is the rope that holds the corner of a sail.  If it’s loose the sail can flap around in the wind, and if the sheets of all three sails are unsecured the ship will be out of control.  (This is one of those idioms that I’ve never actually heard anyone use in real life, although I’ve certainly encountered it in literature.)

under the weather - The earlier version of the phrase was often “under the weather bow,” and the “weather” side of anything is the windward - the side that’s getting hit by the roughest weather.  One theory is that sick sailors went below decks, or under the deck where they’d be out in the weather, but another theory is that anything “under the weather” was being hit by tough circumstances.  Although in my idiom the phrase metaphorically refers to physical illness, many of the earlier usages from the early nineteenth century refer to a wider variety of difficulties.

groggy - I covered this one before, but if you missed it or have forgotten, you can find its nautical origins here.

        As this is the last post of the year, I will end with the wish that despite any anxiety about worrisome changes in the offing, I hope you will weather 2025 on an even keel.  As always, may you find joy and share hope.

[Pictures: The Bachelor’s Delight approaching the San Dominick, woodcut by Patrick de Manceau, 1946 (Image from invaluable);

Fair Winds, rubber block print by AEGNydam, carved ca. 1994, edition printed 2013 (Image from Nydam Prints, now sold out);

Korweta, woodcut by Stanisław Ostoja-Chrostowski, 1936 (Image from Polona).]

We Three Kings

         I’m continuing the Christmas story in block prints today, by focussing on a chapter of the story that comes after that first Christmas night.  The arrival of the Three Kings (aka Wise Men, aka Magi) traditionally is considered to be the Twelfth Night of Christmas, or Epiphany, on January 5 or 6.  (Of course the confusion of calendars and denominations means there are multiple interpretations of exactly when that date should fall.)  This means that I shouldn’t really be celebrating the Three Kings yet at all, but for me they’re simply all part of the Christmas story, and if you look at the collection of Christmas block prints I shared in past years (you can find all the links in the previous post), there are quite a few that feature these Wise Men from the East.  This year, however, I’m giving them their own post, and I’ve got a few  block prints of them for you today.

        First is a classic, a woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, in which the three magnificently attired kings show up with their gifts at the ruined stable that’s hardly even a porch.  Joseph looks pretty sullen and suspicious about this, but Mary is being more gracious.  My favorite thing about this one is how the baby Jesus is grabbing for gold as if it were candy!  (At only 12 days old he shouldn’t be grabbing for much of anything at all, but he was a precocious child in many ways.)

        The next piece is cropped tightly in on the people.  The kings have removed their crowns, but only the one in the foreground is really focussed on the baby.  The others seem to be watching Mary instead.  I really like all their faces.  As for Mary, however, she looks a lot more zoned out than I would expect.  Admittedly she may be pretty exhausted by her newborn, but I know I would have been a lot more interested if three astronomer kings from foreign lands had unexpectedly shown up to pay homage to my offspring!

        The third piece is quite simple, but I find it very pleasing.  One of the kings has removed his crown as he kneels before Jesus, and seems almost to be kissing his feet.  Above, the star is whizzing up the sky, and another of the wise men is watching it, perhaps just confirming the address.  Despite the relative roughness of the piece, the faces are all pleasant.  Mary is serene, and the baby has the hint of a smile.

        I include one more little bonus detail from a painting by Hieronymus Bosch.  This king is very handsome, not to mention elaborately dressed, but what caught my eye is that it looks like he’s brought his pet dragonling to the party!  Closer inspection leads me to believe that this is more likely a parrot or similar bird, but needless to say I like the dragon interpretation better!

        Whether Jesus was presented with gold, candy, or dragons, the real lesson here is to be willing to see the bright stars, follow the signs, and acknowledge the miracles of love that may manifest in the world.

[Pictures: The Adoration of the Magi, woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, 1511 (Image from The Met);

The Adoration of the Magi, woodcut by anonymous copying one by the workshop of Lucas van Leydan, ca. 1515 (Image from Philadelphia Museum of Art);

Adoration of the Magi, woodcut from Legenda Sanctorum trium regum by Johannes Hildesheimensis, 1490 (Image from The Met);

Detail from Triptych of the Adoration of the Magi, oil on panel by Hieronymus Bosch, ca. 1494 (Image from Museo del Prado).]

Beginning to Look Like Christmas

         Not only am I finally able to give some thought to Christmas, but we had a lovely winter-wonderland snow yesterday, and today is looking very seasonally appropriate for both the solstice and Christmas.  Therefore, here are a few wood block prints to celebrate the season.

        I’ll begin with the snowfall, and a piece by Tsuchiya Kōitsu (Japan, 1870-1949).  This one reminds me of our walk last night, with the sparkling snow covering every twig in white lace against the black velvet of the night.

        A different snowy view shows a city, and where the first piece captured snow in its luminous magic, this piece captures the muted grey feeling that a snowy day can have.  I love the black and white geometry of it, contrasted with the hazy sweep of the blowing flakes against the  black buildings, and the fine lines of the sky.  This one is by Asa Cheffetz, a favorite of mine whom I’ve featured frequently before.  Different as these first two pieces are, they were both made the same year: 1943.

        Shifting into Christmas mode, I also have three manger scenes to share.  The first is from Albrecht Dürer in about 1502, from a series of 20 wood block prints depicting “The Life of the Virgin.”  This one shows the adoration of the shepherds, and some of the details include the star in the upper right, angels in the upper left and also clustering around the baby, and the ruinous state of the stable, which I mentioned in a previous post on Nativity Scenes (link below).

        Second is a much smaller view of the Holy Family, with Mary and Joseph adoring their miraculous baby while a couple of oxen look on.  We don’t actually see the baby at all, but the tuft of hay in the manger creates a star or halo of light in the dark, illuminating the faces of the parents.  This appears to have been made as an illuminated initial letter, and I like the way it’s designed around the capital N.  This one is by Lorenzo Homar (Puerto Rico, 1913-2004) and was made in 1962.  (I’ve featured some of Homar’s work before, as well.)

        Focussing in still further, this last piece shows only the Madonna and Child.  By Desmond M. Chute (England, 1895-1962), it’s quite simple.  There are no angels or shepherds, only the merest suggestion of a background, and no finely carved intricate details.  I like the simple pattern and fringe of Mary’s wrap, offering both visual interest and the story suggestion of an ordinary homespun blanket.  The halo belongs not to Mary or Jesus individually, but embraces the two in their relationship together.

        If you want to explore more wood block print scenes of the Christmas story, I’ve shared a bunch in past years, so you can revisit these prior posts:

Nativity 1

Nativity 2

Nativity 3

Merry Christmas (2017)

Merry Christmas! (2018)

Merry Christmas! (2019)

Merry Christmas! (2021)

More Merry Christmas! (2022)

        Plus, Happy Hanukkah (2017)

Happy Hanukkah! (2019)

Hanukkah Greetings (2020)

        Whatever holidays you may be celebrating at this time of year - or even if you don’t feel much like celebrating at all - may you find moments of peace, sparkles of joy, and the embrace of love.

[Pictures: Sumidagawa Suijin Forest, woodblock print by Tsuchiya Kōitsu, 1934 (Image from Ohmi Gallery);

Cold Chimneys, woodcut by Asa Cheffetz, 1934 (Image from The Clark Museum);

The Adoration of the Shepherds, woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, ca. 1502-3 (Image from the Davis Museum at Wellesley College);

Pesebre, wood engraving by Lorenzo Homar, 1962 (Image from Princeton University Library);

Madonna, woodcut by Desmond M. Chute, ca. 1915-1924 (Image from Art Institute of Chicago).]

Further News

         As my ridiculously busy season finally winds down, I hope to be able to get back to a more regular schedule of sharing excellent block prints and fantasy with you.  For now, however, here’s one more post just to give you links to some more things I’ve been doing that include content everyone can access.

        • On Dec. 11 I was a guest on Story Hour, an on-line program hosted by Laura Blackwell and Daniel Marcus, that live-streams author readings every Wednesday night.  I read aloud two full short stories from Bittersweetness & Light - “A Life for a Life” and “Love Potion”- and you can watch the recording here.  My fellow author on this episode was Jo Miles, who shared a fun and satisfying Christmas story, so I recommend that you listen to her reading to help get yourself in the holiday spirit!

        • My poem “Knitting” was published in the Winter 2024 issue of New Myths magazine, which just came out.  You can read my poem - and the entire issue - here.

        If you’re local to eastern MA and art is more your thing, I do have pieces in two group shows that are up now.

        • Illumination is Gallery Twist’s annual festive group show in Lexington.  There’s no theme, but there’s an emphasis on twinkling lights and merry mood.  I have seven pieces to be found somewhere among the more than 200 on display throughout the beautifully decorated space.  The exhibition will be up through January 5.  (Info here.)

        • Art with Heart is at TILL Wave Gallery in Watertown.  The gallery space is somewhat hidden by lots of construction on the street, but once you get inside you’ll be

embraced by beauty and color!  I have three pieces in this exhibit, which will be up through January 18.  (Info here.)

        Wherever you are, and whether or not you visit my particular activities, do be sure to find ways to bring beauty, art, story, imagination, and community into your life!

[Pictures: Stills from Story Hour, Dec. 11, 2024 (Images from Story Hour);

NewMyths Winter 2024, cover art by Rita Oakes (Image from NewMyths.com);

Gallery Twist postcard including detail of Ghost Pipes, rubber block print by AEGNydam.]

Poet Laureate

         I am absolutely thrilled to announce some Huge News: I have been named the Poet Laureate of Needham, MA!  Okay, this may not be huge news on the global level, but it’s hugely exciting to me, having loved poetry and fancied myself a poet for about as long as I can remember.  (Regarding which, I plan to share in a future post some of my own history with poetry.)  But what exactly does it mean to be a Poet Laureate?  Well, on the larger scale, such as the poet laureate of an entire nation, it’s an honor for eminent achievement, but at the local level it’s more like being a cultural ambassador to bring more poetry into the life of the town.  In my case, since Poet Laureate of Needham is a brand new position and I’m the first to fill it, I’m a bit of a guinea pig and I get to contribute to making it up as we go along.

        So far I’ve kicked off with participating in two poetry programs at the public library.  Both programs had been in the works for a while and were organized by others; I got to waltz in at the last minute and participate enthusiastically without having had to lay the groundwork.  First was a session of the poetry discussion group “Cup and Chaucer,” and second was an after-school program for teens to play with found poetry, blackout poetry, etc.  (The kids had fun with the transgressive thrill of cutting up old books!  I went with the ransom note or refrigerator magnet style of poetry, and my creation - with golden glue for even more glamour - can be seen in the photo.  Click to enlarge.)

        I’ll be putting a little Poet Laureate column in the library’s monthly newsletter, and we’ve got lots of other ideas in the works including hosting some poetry events, presenting my own work, doing some workshops in the schools, adding poems to town events, and more.  (When I refer to “we” I mean primarily the library’s director Rob MacLean and technical services director Tamara Dalton, who are my support committee.  Plus I also want to thank Town Manager Kate Fitzpatrick, whose idea it was for Needham to have a Poet Laureate, plus all the members of the selection committee, and of course the Needham Council of Arts and Culture and Mass Cultural Council, which awarded a grant to help support this program.)

        If you want to read more about all this, you can find an article from Needham Local here: Needham’s Poet Laureate Finds “Magic” in Written Word

and an article from Needham Observer here: Needham names first Poet Laureate.

         Because this role is all about bringing people together through literary arts, and fostering connections in the community, I’d love to hear ideas for what we should consider doing.  If you’re in Needham, what programs would you like to see?  If you’re elsewhere, do you know of any similar programs that have done cool things?  Go ahead and send me your brainstorming!  Given the small size of the grant and the finite limits of my time, we won’t be able to do everything, but I’d certainly love to consider lots of creative ideas.

[Pictures: photo and poem by AEGNydam, 2024;

other images from Needham Free Public Library and Needham Local.]

Good

         Another short blog post, but this one is to direct you to a little more to read.  This month’s issue of Friends Journal includes my short story (or possibly more of a prose poem) entitled “Good.”  I think it’s timely for Thanksgiving week because it’s all about reminding us how incredibly good and beautiful Creation actually is.  We should absolutely be full of thanksgiving for the bounty of harvest and resources that help us thrive, but also more broadly for the whole miraculous interconnected web that makes everything thrive.  This should also prompt us to understand that when that web of creation is torn, when parts of it can’t thrive, we all fail.  So please read my story, feel gratitude for the blessings of this world, and renew your commitment to manifest all that love in caring for it all: the natural world, our fellow humans, our interconnectedness, our responsibility toward the future…  It is all worth giving thanks for, and it’s all worth working for.

        The illustration in the middle of the story is one of my block prints made a while before I wrote the piece, but obviously exploring the same ideas.  You can read this previous blog post about the making of that piece: Behold, It Is Good.

        Yes, there’s been a bit of a theme over the last few blog posts.  That’s something of a coincidence, since some of these things have been in the works for months and months, but I’m also leaning into it since I myself certainly feel the need of it right now.  I suspect that a lot of others need it, too.  If you’ll be getting together with family this week I know there may be some fraught moments.  I know some of you may have interactions that are painful, depressing, offensive, enraging, and exhausting.  But please just try to remember that Love is always there to support us if we can just tap into it.  And it is Good.

[Pictures: Friends Journal, November 2024;

Behold, It Is Good, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2021 (originals sold out).]