I stumble into it— amid the chaotic, semi-darkness of dread. During a week of wars and rumors of war, political mayhem, and monstrous weather, I glimpse, like Gretel and her brother escaping the grim fairy tale forest, a subtle map . . .
. . . in my case, a design covertly laid down for me to trace, akin to bread crumbs marking the way home. Where hope lives.
Patterns: I hunt them, love them. Armed with a camera I’m the one belly-down in the dust framing shots of thousand-year-old lichens, scaly doilies of living graffiti.
Dreamer’s the guy on a ledge seeking vistas and panoramas — ideally, with moody skies and mountains.
Twyla Tharp, eminent dancer and choreographer, believes we all like to take in the world from our preferred focal length. If I had vanity plates, they’d read Z00000M.
Recognizing patterns delights me. Discovery can redirect my angst, make me believe under-the-radar love is still at work, brilliantly choreographing possibilities. Invitations.
Or is it coincidence?
In a week of worldwide upheaval, a trail of crumbs points me toward renewed hope.
A friend forwards an announcement: the immersive Vincent van Gogh exhibit’s in town.
Dreamer and I and one of our daughters immerse: WOW! Vividly exuberant, sometimes wrenching, wall-to-wall-to-ceiling-to-floor imagery — unfolding via ingenious, computerized motion — swirls around us in glorious patterns. And vital breaks in the pattern, which further intrigues a viewer’s eye.
Family photo-op: We pose with a reproduction of “The Starry Night” as backdrop. The photo now resides on our fridge. As if we are still living inside the painting.
News items yesterday: French and Chinese researchers have analyzed van Gogh’s “The Starry Night,” including color choices, brushwork, and the roiling, celestial panorama. Turns out the images intuitively follow the mathematical theory of flow patterns, kinetic energy, and turbulence — discovered 52 years after the tormented artist expressed, in paint, these very equations.
Fourteen of the vibrant swirls and the spaces between them closely align with Russian mathematician Kolmogorov’s theory of turbulence.
“Turbulent flows are a frequent occurrence in everyday life,” Yongxiang Huang says.
We see them in time-lapse cloudscapes, a gushing hose, and river eddies.
Van Gogh’s smaller brushstrokes mirror another law related to turbulence, called Batchelor scaling, which describes the way fluids mix. Picture Joni Mitchell’s “oil on the puddles in taffeta patterns that run down the lanes.”
How do things like this happen? Vincent, in his final year, amid schizophrenia’s disordered thinking, glimpsed a truth about nature yet to be identified and explained. He followed a trail of crumbs to see where it led. Living in a psychiatric asylum at the time, he could not have framed the imagined scene for us, in our day, without his particular sensibilities and turbulence at work in the world.
Astronomer Janna Levin says “There’s no star, besides our sun, close enough to look like anything but a twinkle.” She adds, “The only reason it twinkles is because of the turbulent air ….”
That luminous shape in “The Starry Night,” near the horizon? Most likely Venus.
Turbulence enables us to perceive light. Beauty in motion. Order beneath chaos.
Our world keeps shifting like mad. Thank God for every crumb that leads us toward a brighter outlook!
Friends, the captain has turned on the seat belt sign. Turbulence ahead . . .
Do patterns delight you? In what ways have they altered your outlook?
LINKS: high-resolution scan by Yinxiang Ma: “The Starry Night,” accessed via Google Arts and Culture. More info here
You might also enjoy “Each Day’s Election,” from the archives
Photo, courtesy of Vincent (and exhibit personnel)
Complimenti Laurie Klein per la bellissima canzone: “Ti amo Signor”
Gracias!
Feliz Navidad!!
I agree, I think patterns are all around us, whether we see them or not. I’ve had the thought to do better with journaling recently, and maybe pattern recognition is something that could inspire me to write more. I’m currently sitting on the couch, listening to my kids play outside and hearing the arpet cleaners downstairs, and I can’t help but meditate a bit.. what patterns are in my life that I don’t immediately recognize? Maybe writing down the ones I do see will help me see others that are more difficult to see.. this is a great blog post, it’s really got me thinking. Thank you.
Dear Janet,
Me too. I relish these discoveries and where they lead . . . If journaling comes alive for you again I hope it will be both nourishing and revelatory. And delightful! I look back over my years of on-again, off-again rhythms and they seem almost tidal.
I’m so grateful you wrote me today. You are reminding me (after a recent, relational sideswipe) to get back on the lookout for patterns and where they might take me. Thank you!
“Patterns: I hunt them, love them. Armed with a camera I’m the one belly-down in the dust framing shots of thousand-year-old lichens, scaly doilies of living graffiti.”
I enjoy seeing the patterns in what tugs on my friends’ hearts. Love the way you seek and gather images in nature and lay them out for us in artful encouraging ways.
Wow, what a blessing to read this today, thank you, friend!
You do this too, delightfully so, with your “found” poems and artistry. May we increasingly see into the mystery of things . . .
Thank you.
I read a book earlier this year titled, Shades Of Light by Sharon Garlough Brown.
I thought of it while reading your words.
You might appreciate reading it.
Thank you! I’m putting that title on my library list . . . : )
LOVED this post, Laurie. I, too love patterns hence the interest in Zentangle. Yesterday Bill & I took a day trip to Lake Geneva. It was so warm I waded in the lake. The patterns I saw were delightful – sand ridges one after another, the same, but different here and there – and the sparkling sunlight on the water – almost like a neon funky chicken wire pattern. Beautiful – you could describe this SO much better.
And Van Gogh, I vividly remember the experience Katie and I shared when it was in Milwaukee. Amazing! So glad you got to share it with Kristin and Bill.
Love you, sis!
“neon funky chicken wire pattern” seems perfect to me. : ) I can see it!
So glad for your day away, and for those arresting sand ridges beneath the surface and the fabulous light on the water. Magic above and below, and you in the midst, wonderstruck. Plus, water warm enough to wade in—in October! You take me there with your description.
I remember your awe over the van Gogh exhibit and am so glad I got to immerse in it with people I love.
Big hug from the West, incoming . . .
Thank you Laurie, I can relate to what you wrote so much. These times have me unsettled. Keep the faith, I got you, is what I keep hearing. My seat belt is on, my friend. Thank you.
Love you
Val, that means so much to me, thank you. I often feel unsettled too, sometimes disoriented, even appalled. How did we get HERE?! Thank you for sharing those words you’re hearing! I’m grateful. Love you, too!
Patterns can stabilize and patterns can make dizzy. Perhaps that is the beauty of it. Just read on social media something about “the terror of the same.” No terror for me, I call myself a “rut dweller” because I find control in sameness, Yet when I paint a watercolor of a picket fence I feel I must vary, just slightly, the space between pickets and the color of the shadows, even if in reality it is not that way. The same but different. It’s more interesting. That is my pattern HAH. It allows me to have a measure of control without losing stability.
LOVE the picket fence analogy, thank you!—so apt for the sense of stability alongside experimentation. “The same but different”—each chink of light, the wood grain, the shadows, vital in its slight variation.
I’m hopeless with watercolor. My college advisor (an expert in oils and acrylics) would encourage me to include at least one small discrepancy in whatever I painted. Preferably more!
“Don’t just soothe; trouble the viewer’s eye,” he used to say: as in, Keep their gaze moving, the mind asking questions, comparing, contrasting, wondering why a particular element is present—what would be lost without it—immersing in the puzzle and pleasure of looking more closely, deeply.
I MUST think about this more! Thank you!!
I didn’t know Van Gogh suffered from schizophrenia. And yet his troubled mind was able to study and take note of flow patterns, kinetic energy, and turbulence in the night sky! Thank you, Laurie, for sharing with us about his life and work. Now I can appreciate “Starry Night” so much more. / The pattern of Fibonacci Numbers fascinates me as well Too long to explain here but I did write a post about them. I hope this link takes you there: https://nancyaruegg.com/2017/06/22/the-language-of-the-universe/. God included so many wonders and secrets within his creation–just waiting for humankind to discover. May the wonder always turn us to worship!
Nancy, I’m so glad you mentioned Fibonacci. I was a latecomer to that wonder among us and loved learning more about it. I will definitely follow your link to learn more.
Every half-hidden, pervasively wonderful evidence of order thrills me! And points me back to the Source . . .
Indeed and amen, my friend!
Hi Laurie, so much glory! Thank you.
I can’t wait to share this with a couple of friends who will love this post, too.
Hi Carol, and thank you for wanting to share the post! Zeroing in on the pattern that was quietly forming over this past week encouraged me so much.
May it bring wonder and encouragement to those you share it with!
Wow. Down on your belly catching soaring thoughts. Things we’d pay to see!!
John, thanks for teasing out the humor alongside discovery. : )
Remember the kids taking photos at sports events and performances, etc., in high school? (Bet you can name them!) I used to marvel they’d kneel or crawl, nudge their way to the front of the crowd, even lie down to get the shot—so daring, so visible!—a freedom I, to this day, admire, a liberty of purpose I never had as a self-conscious kid. Now? There’s something about surrendering my dignity (primness?) that often helps me see better, look closer, try to make connections . . .
Thanks so much for reading and leaving a comment—always a joy to me.
I LOVE this post, Laurie! The connections you made throughout were absolutely breath-taking. Thank you for sharing!❤️
Pacia, thank you! It was exciting for me, learning, taking note of possible links, hunting down a thread through all the craziness. I LOVE the way those discoveries coincided in a matter of days, then began to cohere despite days I found challenging to navigate. It really makes me want to pay better attention!
So grateful for you, friend, and your always generous friendship!