Upon reading Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, I began to feel a hopeful, wistful sort of empathy for the tortured main character – Dorian Gray himself. I think I’ve always seen the world through rose coloured glasses, for everything is so much lovelier when masked by shades of innocence. Perhaps that’s why I started to love Dorian so much. Through him I saw the fleeting days of my youth and the physical beauty, made of “ivory and gold”, which I so often cling to. In the beginning, he was a blank canvas. Just as I was.
As time progressed, he fell under the influence of two men: Basil Hallward – the idealistic painter who worshipped Dorian profusely, and Lord Henry – a man of epigrams, cynicism, and paradox. Basil painted Dorian’s body; Lord Henry, his mind. Sooner or later, Dorian became a byproduct of the artists. He, the art, represented all the wonderful and tragic things – absent of reality. Dorian was neither beautiful nor intelligent until Basil and Lord Henry made him so, and I was neither beautiful nor intelligent until the world made me so. Men made me desirable, teachers made me perceptive. They painted my blank canvas every time their influence began to seep under my skin. Red for lust, blue for intellect, blush for loveliness, lavender for youth.
And now, I’m going into the world as a canvas full of other people’s artwork, and I don’t know how to paint to save my life. As Wilde says, “Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” So, where do my feelings come into play? What use does the sitter have if they are living vicariously through the art they inspire? This is where the facade stems from – my utter lack of both control and identity. Humans often create beautiful illusions of everything they want to be, and this ideal is usually unattainable. As long as I have my facade, like the one Dorian created while he was submitting to sin, I am safe. Untouchable. Until, of course, it starts to influence my soul.
One of the quotes in the novel that both confused and intrigued me the most was in one of Lord Henry’s epigrams. He muses, “That is one of the great secrets of life – to cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul.” I’ve begun to wonder now what my soul would look like if every sin I committed was etched into my face, skin, and body. And when I think of ways I can cure the soul from this facade I have created and upheld for so long, the only thing that comes to mind is poetry. I find truth, love, and heartache through the words I write. It flows out of my veins like blood, whether I want it to or not. Although my mind and body may have been painted by everyone around me, only I can paint my soul. So I will paint it through poetry.
The following poem represents my facade (the monochromatic castle) being influenced by the purity of love. It reveals the truth in my heart and soul through the imagery of a barren garden being filled with roses – a common symbolic element in Oscar Wilde’s work.
i want the roses to bloom (forever.)
you and i met
at a crossroads between
heartache and hope –
in our monochromatic castle
we had built out of
fear, out of pride.
and then, in a garden
that had been barren
for years,
you planted a rose.
just one.
it bloomed despite
the frost and a rather
unforgiving sky
wearing a
perpetual blanket of clouds.
the red from the petals
somehow made its way
into my cheeks as you
told me stories about
the sun and the moon,
into our lips
colliding like two natural
disasters aching for refuge,
into my thoughts
drenched with rose water. they
have made their way into
my lungs –
i can no longer breathe
without tasting you.
i thought it would end
with red – the colour of passion,
of lust, of longing
i was wrong.
your hands and brown eyes
are laced with gold
and there is blue in your veins
(can i call your veins mine?)
green vines are wrapping
around my heart
and twisting around yours
connecting the two so our
heartbeats align
you exist in shades of bliss,
in shades of love
i wish i could paint you in my memory
so the colours never fade
grey.
it all used to be grey –
mind, body, and soul
nothing would grow
except my loneliness
now, it is not.
it is red, gold, blue
there are fireworks
and though a rose, beautiful
but deadly
is clothed with thorns
and is bound to wilt,
a garden, once barren,
now blooms.
it brings hope
of deep deep crimson nights
of midnight blue lovers
i want the roses to bloom (forever.)
awesome
Dear Alysha,
I cannot express to you how much this post means to me. During your presentation every thought and expression you had mimicked something in my life, the insight you have, and the eloquence with which you write and speak about it inspires me. When you had stated that “Basil painted Dorian’s body; Lord Henry, his mind,” yet you “don’t know how to paint” yourself, I was opened to the realization that I too have been painted, yet don’t know how to paint myself – you have allowed me to recognize, and further act on, the development of my own sense of self. For this, I would like to thank you.
I am honored to be in your family group, and I cannot wait to see what else you have to bring this year.
Love,
Shyla
Dear Shyla,
Thank you so much for your comment and for reading this post! I’m so glad this piece was able to have some impact on you because your writing has had a strong one on me, especially in the past few weeks. I am so honoured to be in your group as well and I can’t wait to keep working together.
Love Always,
Alysha
Dearest Alysha,
I have had the utter privilege and honor of being in the AP class with you ever since we were in Grade 10 – both terrified of the immense intellect and sheer wisdom bestowed upon us by the senior grades. However, I have also known you since middle school – when our only worries were of juvenile emotions and shallow dramas. To witness the growth of you both as an individual and as a writer has been wonderful.
You have grown into a writer full of poise and delicate interpretation that evokes intricate imagery and emotion with every word you place. I absolutely love the ways in which you are able to take simple objects and symbols such as a rose and turn them into something that brings so much more meaning into the world. I thank you for your ability to do this, as it inspires me to find the nuances in the world and wonder about how the smallest of details can make the biggest of impacts. You have said many times that you are a fan of Rupi Kaur’s beautiful poetry, and I see a lot of her style has influenced yours, but you haven’t lost your own sense of style at the same time. Amazing.
Unfortunateley, I was not able to see your presentation last Friday, but I am thankful to you that you were able to write such a strong literary connection to the symbolism/themes found in the Picture of Dorian Gray and your own facade and soul. It was such a wonderful and meaningful analysis, and as a person who loves to draw and paint, I especially loved the line “What use does the sitter have if they are living vicariously through the art they inspire?” – it made me think of the other side of the art piece.
One thing that I would have absolutely loved to see in your poem especially was full circle – your poem was already so exceptional, but I think a little line repeated at both the start and the end would wrap it up with a little bow. However, it is an absolute joy to read your work, because I am taken to a symbolic imageery land with every poem you write.
Keep up the amazing work,
Carm 🙂
Dear Carmen,
Thank you so much for your lovely comment!! It means so much to me. Actually, the other day I was thinking about the “original” AP students who started in grade ten and now we’re somehow here. Your style of writing has also improved SO much, along with your articulation and ability to contribute so beautifully and effectively to Socratic discussions. It is such a great compliment, especially from you, that I’ve kept my own style of writing while still being influenced by other poets.
I can’t wait to see your presentation (I’ve already read your blog on it) and to hear you read your poem! For next time, I’ll definitely try and add a full circle because I do think it would unify the poem even more and wrap it up in a more clever way. Thank you for that suggestion.
Love Always,
Alysha