There are good days. Last week one of those saw two of my interests – art and literature – aligned, when these images arrived in my inbox while I was contemplating writing a review of a spell-binding piece of literary fiction, The Actual Star, by Monica Byrne. The novel provides windows into past, present and future worlds, all shaped by entropy, directly or indirectly related to cosmology, our planet’s exposure to climate change and humanity’s love affair with to power. Sounds heady? It’s a stunner!
Michel Saran Begegnung/Encounter (2020) Acryl on Canvas
Paintings first. Michel Saran is a German painter, trained at the Dresden Academy of Fine Arts in the late 1950s. (The academy boosts an incredible list of alumni, Otto Dix, George Grosz, and Gerhard Richter among them). Saran came from East to West Germany in 1961 when the wall was built, and continued his studies at the Staatliche Kunstakademie in Düsseldorf, known among others for Joseph Beuys and, again, Gerhard Richter.
The artist and I have been friends since 1969 when he taught me art history, and we managed to sustain the friendship despite having lived on different continents for over 40 years now. Friends or not, I have always had strong reactions to his art. The new series is no exception: the works embrace a dialectic, feeding on the tension between serious, sometimes grave underlying themes, but expressed with a visual joy and playfulness that let you forget the darker thoughts.
Michel Saran Diagonale und Rechtecke/ Diagonal and Rectangles (2020) Acryl on Wood
The rectangles remind me of windows, as individual motifs or as groupings pointing to more collective associations. Windows are cross-culturally symbols of so many things, again capturing a dialectic – letting light and fresh air in, but also the opposite, allowing access to dread (window of vulnerability). Come in by the window represents romantic but also illicit access. A window of opportunity points to gains, out the window, on the other hand, refers to an escape route but also loss, something non-retrievable. In painting and literature alike, they have often represented hope, or freedom (Caspar David Friedrich and Leora Carrington among my favorites here,) the longing for and ability to escape (think Rapunzel, or Wuthering Heights). Windows, of course, also frame the border between outside and inside, and for those of us aware that the longest stretch of life lies behind us, a reminder of a choice of time focus: we can look out to a past, or focus on the present view, or dream about an unknown future, a window to a veiled existence if only in our minds.
Michel Saran Ländliches Fenster/Rural WIndow (2017) Acryl on Wood
And then there is the window on the world. This brings us squarely, pun intended, to today’s book review about a novel that helps us view different cultures with powerful strokes of imagination, matched by an equally astute intellectual analysis of history and our role in shaping that history. The Actual Star spans 2000 years, from the ancient Maya kingdom in 1012 B.C. in what is now Belize, a depiction of events in the U.S. and Belize in 2012, to a fictional society in 3012 that is formed by some 8 million humans left over from climate catastrophe, trying to fashion a life on earth that is sustainable.
Each of the three time periods are introduced through a trinity of characters: a pair of twins and a (de)stabilizing third corner of the triangle, a sibling, a lover, a child. Each twin represents an opposite, one who favors the status quo and preserves tradition, the other who is a risk taker and pursues the necessity of change. The eras are depicted within their contexts – the Mayan kingdom is on the brink of dissolution due to climate emergency droughts (giving rise to extreme violence within and beyond human sacrifices). The contemporary Belize is affected by its history of colonialism and capitalist exploitation. The future humans are struggling with the conflict that despite all attempts to prevent previous societies’ errors and eliminate violence, some deep seated psychological needs cannot be eradicated. Common to all three cultures is a longing for knowledge about a place that extends beyond the realm of the real – call it rebirth, paradise, Nirvana, Hades, Xibalba (the Mayan place of fright where the Gods (of death) reside). Humans simply cannot accept that there is finality to our existence and so forever search for the window (as knowledge and passage) into the workings of an afterlife.
Michel Saran Freie Rechtecke/Free Rectangles (2020) Acryl on Wood
The novel is intensely sex-positive, there is not a type of sexual interaction not included, and described in detail. None of it is sordid, and much of it helps to question taboos, given that we are hooked on sympathizing with almost all of the protagonists from the start (who are clearly having a good time in this regard.) It becomes particularly interesting in the future world, where scientific advances have given all humans the relevant body parts of both sexes, and they can choose which gender expression or sexual preferences they’d like to have dominant, with the ability to switch frequently.
In one regard our future descendants have no choice, though. They have to adhere to a kind of religious/moral/ethics code that requires the absence of any personal possession, a life of nomadism, and a separation from birth family, so there is no hoarding of goods, land or emotional tie to lovers and even blood relatives. If they reject those choices, they become stigmatized outsiders, deprived of much the society has to offer. In fact, all are not allowed, except for special occasions and festivals, to ever congregate with more than a few people in their steady wandering across the face of this earth. Conflict ensues, wouldn’t you know it.
Michel Saran Toscana (2020) Acryl on Wood
It is no coincidence that Byrne salutes her favorite SFF authors, Ursula LeGuin and Kim Stanley Robinson, in her preface. She has absorbed much from them, the painstaking research of historical and scientific facts, the focus on human psychology within the political parameters that shape parts of it, the generating of languages that serves multiple purposes. (The novel uses a lot of Spanish and pretend-Spanish, invented words helpfully explained in a glossary. Dialog in the contemporary segment is sometimes in Kriol, not translated, and hard to understand even if sounded out loud. A perfect choice for a Western readership: we can completely intuit the meaning of the language of the colonizers, but the speech among the colonized is somewhat inaccessible.) The role religion – its dangers or promises – plays in the works of all three is surely no coincidence. The authors’ works also all acknowledge the importance of place, both locally, geographically and in a cosmos that reacts to physical changes.
Michel Saran Dämmerung/Dusk (2020) Acryl on Wood
What is all her own, is Byrne’s imaginary power to envision worlds, past and future. A lyrical voice when describing the joy and sorrow of emotional attachments. A probing of entropy. A willingness to upset, to judge, to question. And, importantly, in this novel an instantiated promise that there can be hope attached to loss, and promise to painful change. It is a remarkable book.
(PS: She also has a nicely sarcastic sense of humor – here she reads excerpts from bad reviews of her novel. Stellar review in much more detail can be found here.)
Music today is Joaquín Rodrigo’s symphonic poem A la busca del más allá (In Search of the Beyond).
Michel Saran Verwoben/Interwoven (2020) Acryl on Wood