There is art work and music that speaks to me, and there is artwork and music that leaves me cold. Native American music makes my teeth itch. The artworks baffle me. That bear doesn't say 'bear' to me. I love the idea of the totem pole, but not so much the carvings on it. On the other hand, the first time I heard bagpipes, I was transported. I knew instantly what they were and I loved them. Uilleann pipes touch something inside that vibrates and spins. Celtic knots thrill me, Celtic crosses delight me.
Both of these cultures are part of my genetic make-up, yet only one speaks to me. Is that because the European influence is more deeply engraved through multiple existences? Did I, perhaps, experience more incarnations along that particular path? What really got me thinking was Cycladic carvings. I don't like most 'primitive' art. Fertility sculptures, Egyptian hieroglyphs, these all strike me as kindergarten doodling. I look at them and wonder how a culture could fail to evolve artistically for ages on end. How is it that the faces never got more realistic? The carvings remained exaggerated.
Realistically, the carvings are religious icons so changing them would be bizarre. That makes me think perhaps I traveled a more interpretive path. Hieroglyphs didn't change because they are written language, but it still seems like there should have been stylistic representations of a calligraphic nature. Neither of these ancient art forms seem artistic to me because there aren't variations on the themes.
Looking at Cycladic sculptures, I was instantly smitten. They are primitive; no facial detail, not a lot of variation on the basic pose. These are thought to be funereal carvings, found in graves with no eyes or mouth and arms folded across the body. They have different head shapes, some have wide shoulders, some not. Some are clearly tall people, others are more petite. These feel like art to me, individual expressions rather than carbon copies. Clean lines, soft curves.
Then I considered architecture. I love the clean lines of Greek architecture, and the arches of Gothic cathedrals, but not Japanese architectural lines or the stalactite-like garishness of Italianate cathedrals. I adore the curvaceousness of mud huts and cob houses, that sort of man-made cave feeling, but not the fluid lines of India's temples.
Trace a line on a map, from the earliest arts and architectures I like, through to today, and you trace a line from Greek Islands, across Europe to the British Isles. Through the British Isles from Wales, into Ireland, to Scotland. A specific route, with the Scottish influences being the strongest of the three, so I suspect that to be the most recent 'incarnation period' for me.
The entire concept pleases me in a way that feels right, like a tiny epiphany. In a way, it's like looking at a face in the crowd in a photograph from the past and suddenly realizing the face is your own. Finding bits and pieces that come together to make an unexpected whole. This is how I came to be who I am, this is the path I traveled, these are the peoples I knew, those are the experiences I had.
If you traced a path back in time, through art, architecture, music, even belief, where would you find yourself? Would you find yourself? Would something suddenly make sense that never did before? Could the path ahead become more visible if you knew the path behind? It all makes me think of a song from the 70's:
"Do you know where you're going to?...Do you know what you're hoping for? When you look behind you there's no open door, what are you hoping for? Do you know?" (Theme from Mahogany, Performed by Dianna Ross, written by Michael Masser and Gerry Goffen)
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