November is upon us, and with it – for the northern hemisphere at least – Autumn casts one last spell across the land before winter seizes all within its much colder hands; the time when, as American editor, journalist and romantic poet informs us, the outgoing year throws its last, loveliest smile.
And so that last and loveliest smile forms the theme for Cica Ghost’s November installation called, appropriately enough Autumn.
Welcome to a world of warm browns and reds, of sepia flowers and tangled branches bereft of leaves, where fallen boughs now form sticks and mushrooms sprout through the loam of fading leaves. The colours are muted beneath a swirling latte sky, but all is not dour or sad; in fact the warmth of that autumnal smile Bryant refers to is much in evidence, if not directly visible.
For this is a land where mushrooms and toadstool sprout their way into red-roofs houses, and acorns dangle from hooked branches to offer little windowed shelters overhead. It is welcoming in spirit, whispering requests that visitor explore.
Scattered through the landscape and the fungal homes are characters to be found – a tapir-like creature conversing with a mouse; rabbits perhaps looking slightly nervous at the prospect of winter – even a giant snail! None of them mean any harm, despite their size, not even Black Bear sitting up in his perch – in fact the ladder alongside him invites you to climb up and say hello.
And whilst there might well be giants sitting around, their backs to muddy slopes or squatting on hill tops, none of them are here for mischief or meanness. Big they might be and their smiles might be a little intimidating in their toothiness – but can those who wear bright yellow or green knitted socks, or socs with stars on them really be up to no good? I don’t think so.
No, this is a place where Autumn can be celebrated and we can dance among the last of the flowers and between the red caps of mushrooms and toadstools. A place where Autumn gives us a last smile, itself a reminder that while winter might be lumbering towards us, so too is spring not too far behind it.
Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun!
One mellow smile through the soft vapoury air,
Ere, o’er the frozen earth, the loud winds run,
Or snows are sifted o’er the meadows bare.
One smile on the brown hills and naked trees,
And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast,
And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
– From November, by W.C. Bryant
SLurl Details
- Autumn, by Cica Ghost (Mysterious Isle, rated Moderate)
