A Father’s Day Dedication

On September 7, 2014January 29, 2018 By Renee Lou Dallow ( Bourgeoise Bloomers )In Changing the world4 Comments

My father was Richard Packer. A poet and playwright. He published at least four poetry books both in Australia and New Zealand and was passionate about his work. He died at the age of fifty -three in a tiny little flat in Toorak Melbourne. I had not seen my father since I was thirteen. My memories of him are quite faded now but I do remember that he used to sing sea shanties to me and my two brothers. He took me to the zoo once where I got bitten by a pelican and he turned up for a parents day at my primary school looking like a beatnik ( Hippy Dude ) in a daggy old jumper and jeans. All the other dads wore suits and I was mortified. He was given to rages due to alcohol and drugs and loved Indian sitar music. He also worked in advertising so you could say he was one of the original ‘Mad Men’ just like in the series. My dad travelled extensively and never cease to question the world and the role of man and womankind in it. Here then is one of his poems from ‘Prince Of The Plague Country’ written published in 1964.

‘Song Before Nightfall’

( By Richard Packer )

Elders that one faces

leaning over bars

scheme for moneyed places,

want the suavest cars.

A lonely tippler traces

wakes of fallen stars

O coming dark, be gentle with us all.

Such men sporting flowers

fresh in buttonholes

trust that kneeling hours

exonerate their souls,

then focus old desires

upon their usual goals.

O coming dark,be gentle with us all.

Their hands will make tomorrow

the stench of yesterday.

No amount of sorrow

strikes pity from their clay.

Even boozed they’re narrow:

Off the rainbow way.

O coming dark, be gentle with us all.

These once in their beauty

passed proud mountains by,

chose a padded duty

and the pampered eye.

Spirit dead completely,

their flesh grows slack and sly.

O coming dark, be gentle with us all.

Cheers Dad!

© Renee Dallow ( Hybiscus Bloom ) 7/9/2014

Art Deco: The Art Of ‘Maxfield Parrish’

On August 26, 2014October 7, 2014 By Renee Lou Dallow ( Bourgeoise Bloomers )In Changing the world, stories of mystery and romance

Maxfield Parrish

‘The Garden Of Allah’

While in the process of writing ‘ The Past Tense Of Youth’ I spent hours searching through the European Orientalist painters at the turn of the century and also great artworks of the 1930s.

Amongst others from the latter period I came across the works of Maxfield Parrish whose amazing Florescent colours really made his work stand out. An American artist who was famous for his childrens illustrations as much as for his paintings Parrish lived his whole life in New Hampshire and his home, also his studio, was called ‘The Oaks’.

'Daybreak' Maxfield Parrish — ‘Daybreak’ Maxfield Parrish

A beautiful dreamlike quality permeated his work and gave it a fairytale quality. In his paintings there is also a strong emphasis on photography and it is at times like looking at an over exposed negative particularly in ‘The Garden of Allah’ A very 1930s deco depiction of the east. Soft,romantic and contemplative with the beauty of the gardens creating a fantasy backdrop.

Parrish " Mountain Ecstacy' — Parrish ” Mountain Ecstacy’

There was a certain similarity too between the art of Maxfield Parrish and that of some of my favourite Orientalists principally in the use of light. Especially the works of Lord Leighton . The visual splendour of paintings by both these arists have inspired my writing and have helped to move my story which begins in the 1930s and goes back to the early 19th century.

Frederick Leighton was, of course, known as one of the greatest classical painters of his time and his work was known throughout Europe.

Born in England Leighton came from a very wealthy family and travelled Europe extensively. He fell under the spell of the east, however, spending a great deal of time in North Africa in particular.

It is well known that he questioned his own religion and his wok reflected a humanist approach full of mystic romanticism.He was enamoured with mythology and with nature. In ‘Light Of The Harem’ seen her in the centre Leighton paints a very romanticised picture of life in a harem. The beauty on the right seems off in a daydream while her young servant girl holds up a mirror to her face. All around her there is a soft golden light that gives her an inner glow.

'Solitude' Frederick Leighton — ‘Solitude’ Frederick Leighton

As in the paintings of Maxwell Parrish there is an inner peace and a contemplative quality that evokes the imagery of an ideal world.

Although these two great artists were from different eras and different countries they shared a similarity in the way they viewed their respective worlds.

The beauty of these great works of art fuels the imagination and feeds the senses.

The Past Tense Of Youth: Freedom

On July 27, 2014October 1, 2014 By Renee Lou Dallow ( Bourgeoise Bloomers )In Changing the world, Now and then, stories of mystery and romance

Freedom had come at last but at what cost? Now came the painful realisation that the lives we had entwined were about to change forever. I disengaged myself from Gurel’s arms and backed out of the room leaving him alone with his gypsy love. Deeply in love and content in each other’s secrets. I needed time to gather my thoughts and walked down the stairs back into the courtyard of the concubines now so quiet that even the sound of slippers could not be heard on the lonely cobble stones. I traced the winding paths through to the golden way where once carriages arrived and where coins were thrown to those in favour. I sat on a bench and pondered the meaning of all that had happened. A feeling of overwhelming peace and serenity overcame me. All was as it was meant to be.

As I peered through the arch at the passage which lead to the golden way I imagined myself there once again as a child holding out my hands and waiting for Hamid to throw me a coin. Emine’s memory not mine. My memories were of a childhood surrounded by books. Yet somehow these memories had become joined . Emine and Emma were one and the same. Just as this revelation dawned on me I was convinced I could hear voices. The voices of children. Young boys were being led toward the gates by their mothers amidst squeals of delight. They were followed discreetly by their eunuchs and guards. These were the princes who had been locked away for years on end for fear they would rise up against the sultan and steal the empire. I wondered what would become of them and smiled at each one as they passed me. Maybe I too could just simply walk out the gates through the golden corridor and find myself on the streets outside. Strange that I would even think this possible at all as I had spent so much time longing to return to my own time in my own country and I might add with my own husband.

I rose and started toward the passageway when someone grabbed me by the arm. It was Rana with Gurel following close behind her. Her face was suddenly gentle with the humility of a grazing deer. She took my hand and turned it toward her so that she could see my palm. She stroked the lines from left to right. ” I see mountains … blue mountains …… their peeks and plateaus reaching ever higher into the heaven of your choosing. It shall be many years before you find this heaven but you have found something in the mountains that will never leave you. It is love that you have found just like the love that found me. We share this love you and I. We three will always be together even if our lives no longer meet “. She linked her arm in mine , held out her other hand to Gurel and the three of us walked through the golden way and on through the gates together. We wandered the grounds enjoying the warm summer evening breezes and the chance to languish under the shade of the cedars without the restrictions of high walls blocking the sights and smells of the Bosphorous. What a magnificent sight it was with the ships sailing by, the fluttering wings of birds free to fly to the destiny of their choice and of crickets chirping in the long grass. The three of us watched the world go by in carriage song amidst the constant hum of human progress.

We were all three lying there under the tree when Rana rose from her cradle in Gurel’s arms”. I shall never again be the property of another. I am a gypsy. Free forever. Come dance with me”. She pulled Gurel up from his shaded resting spot and goaded him into the dance. she sang with the voice of a nightingale and laughed with the gurgling sound of a meandering stream. She twirled her skirts and writhed her hips with passionate abandon stomping her bare feet upon the dusty earth beneath. She was leading Gurel to the cliffs edge in her dance of the temptress and he was happy to follow as if he were being pulled by invisible strings. I was content to watch and thought nothing of it until I heard the cry. Suddenly I saw her push Gurel back with all the force of a raging bull and leap into the sea. I ran as fast as I could toward her. Gurel was on his knees sobbing as the crowd gathered. I looked over the cliff to see her body floating lifeless in the tide. But as I gazed on and the waves washed her out to sea she appeared to swim out toward the islands with her dark hair wild in the wind. I turned to Gurel and held him close to my heart. The island shapes became mountain peaks in the lavender blue tinge of evenings grasp.

The Past Tense Of Youth : The besieged

On July 26, 2014October 1, 2014 By Renee Lou Dallow ( Bourgeoise Bloomers )In Changing the world, Now and then, Romantic interludes, stories of mystery and romance

Gurel had crossed the outer court in the still of the blue dawn and been greeted by an eerie silence. The guardhouse was almost empty apart from those of lower rank and file and he knew that it was time . He had been instrumental in the recruitment of Mountain men from the Caucases who had amassed on the boarder with Salonica and were probably very close to the main square in Sultan Ahmet. They would soon be joined by Janissaries and halbadirs loyal to The Committee Of Union and Progress which had taken over the parlaiment. He knew that there were still those willing to fight for the empire and that elite guards and ground troops were preparing to resist a military take over at all costs. While still on the grounds of the palace he must appear loyal to Hamid. The sultan still had many from the ‘Sipahis’ ( cavalry ) close by ready to mount at his command. Most would remain loyal as they owned lands obtained by title deed. Gurel had had close ties with members of the ‘Sipahis’ as he had sold them his horse on becoming a janissary. Hopefully he could find the cavalier who had bought the white steed from him, steal back his horse and make his way out of the gates without being recognised or called to account.

He moved silently through the grounds to the barracks of the ‘Sipahis’ using trees and topiary for cover. The sun was rising over the Bosphorous. He must find his horse and ride out of the gates at great speed in order to be part of the march. He could hear the sounds of the ‘mehter’ or marching tune in the distance and his desperation grew. The barracks were a hive of activity with the officers preparing their weapons and dusting off their uniforms. The horses including his own had been made ready and stood patiently in their stalls. He waited for the young officer to leave the barracks and enter the stables where he then followed him. Gurel knocked him to the ground with the butt of his musket, stole his uniform along with his pass and mounted his horse. Two others entered and before the men could say a word Gurel rode out of the stables toward the main gates with a valiant ” Not a moment to waste men. They are almost upon us”! Once out of the gates he turned to look back at the cavalry contingent gaining fast upon him. He stopped so as not to arouse suspicion and just as they caught up .. sped on ahead.

They laughed and called him impetuous and continued onwards holding their banners high. Imagine their surprise when their young compatriot galloped with ease into the folds of the advancing infantry. The janissaries resplendent in their dark tailored uniforms were tailed by the troops dressed in all manner of garb for no-one had ever thought to devise a complete outfit for their use. There were foot soldiers on the side of the monarchists too along with members of the cebecci corps who carried and distributed arms amongst it’s own. Gurel rode to the side of Mahmut Sevket,the leader of this organised machine known as the third army. Divisions of the ‘Sipahis’ who had deserted the night before also rode with him. Skirmishes broke out all over the city as the battle between the two sides commenced. Great throngs of volunteers gathered in front of the blue mosque for the last advance.

Through it all the march continued until finally Hamid’s forces were defeated and the ‘Army Of Liberty’ had reached Yildiz. Losses had been few on both sides and it was almost as if the monarchists had given up on the very notion of resistance. The Aghas ( commanders ) from all the different branches of military service seemed to join together as one to oust the reigning ruler of the besieged empire. Mahmut Sevket sat high in his saddle as he led his army through the gates and onto ultimate victory. For Gurel the victory was bitter sweet for Rana was no – where to be be seen amongst the hundreds of women and children now freed and leaving in droves by wagon, on horseback or even on foot.

The sultan had retreated to his opera house trying to save the guilded furniture pieces he had made and loaned to the set of a visiting opera company. Saddened at the thought of all his artistic endevours gone to waste he sat on one of his chairs and began to weep. It was there that they had found him, a crumpled form draped in a heavily embroidered kaftan,all alone except for a loyal child servant standing in front of the curtains awaiting his masters orders. Gurel looked up at the domed ceiling covered in stars and actually felt a pang of sympathy. This lasted only a brief moment,however, for he must find out where Hamid had taken Rana. I don’t know whether he thought of me in the same breath but I do know that he felt a deep sense of something missing. For at that moment he had been just as confused as I had been toward the end of our three way lovers tryst. I saw it on his face as he ,with the help of the guards, unlocked the door to our harem chamber and gathered us both into his arms.

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