The Greek poet Sappho (circa 630 to 570 BC) was celebrated both during her life and after. As is well known, all but one of her poems come to us in broken bits and pieces. I discovered her reading Anne Carson, a modern classical scholar and a poet herself. Her translation of those fragments, If Not, Winter, seems to me to humanize the ancient poet. We could all be Sappho. These pictures come largely from that source.
The words below each fragment, if not the exact line placement, are from Anne Carson’s translation.
and with delicate woven cloths covered her up well
] . . . here to me from Krete to this holy temple / where is your graceful grove / of apple trees and altars smoking / with frankincense. And in it cold water makes a clear sound through / apple branches and with roses the whole place / is shadowed and down from raidiant-shaking leaves / sleep comes dropping. And in it a horse meadow has come into bloom / with spring flowers and breezes / like honey are blowing. . . [ . . . ]
In this place you Kypris taking up / in gold cups delicately / nectar mingled with festivities:
pour.
] . . . ] . . . ] I will go . . . ] . . . ] . . . ] . . . ] for . . . ] . . . ] of Harmonia . . . ] dance . . . ] clearsounding . . . ] . . . ] to all . . . ]
as long as you want
] . . . ] . . . ] Atthis for you . . . ] . . . ]
] . . . ] . . . ] Aphrodite . . . ] sweetworded desires . . . ] throw . . . ] holding . . . ] sits . . . ] . . . ] dews
] heart . . . ] absolutely . . . ] I can . . . ] . . . ] ] would be for me ] to shine in answer . . . ] face . . . ] . . . ] having been stained . . . . ]
] . . . ] waiting . . . ] in sacrifices . . . ] having good . . . ] . . . ] but going . . . ] for we know . . . . ] of works . . . ] . . . ] after . . . ] and toward . . . ] says this
You cowered [ . . . laurel tree [ . . . but everything sweeter [ . . . than that [ . . . and for them [ . . . traveller [ . . . But I scarcely ever listened [ . . . soul beloved [ . . . and such now [ . . . to arrive kindly [ . . . You got there first: beautiful [ . . . and the clothes [ . . .
night ] girls / all night long / might sing of the love between you and the bride / with violets in her lap wake! and go call / the young men so that / no more than the bird with piercing voice / shall we sleep
who honored me / by giving their works
These pictures, and others, made between 2006 and 2010, constitute a belated response to the AIDS crisis, which for me began around 1982. It was a terrible event to have been caught up in. It took years for me to learn to live with it. I don’t know why I survived it. It changed me completely and haunts me still.
I’ve always had plant material nearby, and it has usually been willing subject matter.
Sappho’s world contains a huge cast of characters—to name a few: goddesses, gods, demis, courtesans, their patrons, one of whom is Sappho’s brother, kings, queens, Helen of Troy even, brides, grooms, craftspeople, sailors, singers, beautiful young men and women—and coarse ones, too. Sappho is married and has a daughter. Clothes are important to her. She is a wedding singer. She is not without her neuroses. Aphrodite is a frequent partner in crime.
The words below each fragment, if not the exact line placement, are from Anne Carson’s translation.
why does Pandion’s daughter / O Eirana / the swallow
Pan / to tell . . . [ . . . tongue . . . [ . . . to tell tales . . . [ . . .
and for a man / greater . . . [
dream of black [ . . . you came roaming and when sleep [ . . . sweet god, terribly from pain [ . . . to hold the strength separate [ . . . but I expect not to share [ . . . nothing of the blessed ones [ . . . for I would not be like this [ . . . toys [ . . . but may it happen to me [ . . . all [ . . .
] . . . ] gladness and . . . ] . . . ] with good luck . . . ] to gain the harbor . . . ] of black earth . . . ] . . . ] sailors . . . ] in big blasts of wind . . . ] upon dry land . . . ] . . . ] sail . . . ] the freight . . . ] when . . . ] . . . ] many . . . ] . . . ] . . . ] . . . ] works . . . ] dry land . . . ] . . . ] . . . ]
] quiet . . . ] with an aegis . . . ] Kytherea I pray . . . ] holding the heart . . . ] hear my prayer if ever at other times . . . ] forsaking . . . ] toward my . . . ] harsh
] . . . ] . . . ] . . . ] yes you as a child once . . . ] come sing these things . . . ] talk to us, give us your grace / for we go to a wedding: and surely / you know this, but as soon as possible / send the girls away, may gods have . . . ] road to great Olympos . . . ] for men
the feet / by spangled straps covered / beautiful Lydian work
] . . . ] nor . . . ] desire . . . ] but all at once . . . ] blossom . . . ] desire . . . ] took delight
] . . . ] . . . deep sound ] . . . ] . . . ] . . . lady . . . ] . . . ] robes . . . ] necklaces . . . ] ]. . . . ] . . . ] . . . ] ] . . . ] for Gorgo . . . ] . . . ]
] Sardis / often turning her thoughts here . . . . ] you like a goddess / and in your song most of all she rejoiced. But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women / as sometimes at sunset / the roseyfingered moon surpasses all stars. And her light / stretches over salt sea / equally and flowerdeep fields.
(continued below)
And the beautiful dew is poured out / and roses bloom and frail / chervil and flowering sweetclover. But she goes back and forth remembering / gentle Atthis and in longing / she bites her tender mind But to go there . . . ] much / talks [ . . .
(continued below)
Not easy for us / to equal goddesses in lovely form . . . ] . . . ] . . . ] desire / and [ ] Aphrodite . . . ] nectar poured from / gold . . . ] with hands Persuasion ] ] ] ]
(continued below)
] into the Geraistion . . . ] beloveds . . . ] of none ] into desire I shall come
] of desire . . . ] . . . ] for when I look at you . . . ] such a Hermione . . . ] and to yellowhaired Helen I liken you . . . ] . . . ] among mortal women, I know this . . . ] from every care . . . ] you could release me ] . . . ] dewey riverbanks . . . ] to last all night long ] [
Having lived most of my adult life on the American east coast and briefly in its southwest, in 2001 I moved back to Kentucky, ironically down the same road from where I had lived as a child into my twenties. I hadn’t taken pictures for some time, and decided if I were to start again, I would try not to take any that I had already taken in the past—but of course in such a place, the past was not far away.
As they go through their slow stages, plants—their flowers, fruits, and seeds—bring to mind the fragility of our own moments in the passage of time.
