A Memory A Day: MEDITERRANEAN WINNIPEG
January 15, 2019
Doric | ˈdɒrɪk |
adjective
1 relating to or denoting a classical order of architecture characterized by a sturdy fluted column and a thick square abacus resting on a rounded moulding.
2 relating to the ancient Greek dialect of the Dorians.
• archaic (of a dialect) broad; rustic.
… the ancient Greek dialect of the Dorians. especially the dialect spoken in the northeast of Scotland. ORIGIN via Latin from Greek Dōrikos, from Dōrios (see Dorian).
When I drink tea from a particular porcelain cup of my mother’s which I have known all my life, I am transported to another world. Where the Crinoline Lady in blue and yellow holds a basket of flowers I imagined as a kid, a whole garden of such ladies waiting for me to join them. Considering that it was Winnipeg in 1960 - and likely a frosty winter day at thirty-below zero - the powers of imagination are something to behold.
That Doric column held the most satisfaction. Although I wouldn’t know what that really was until I lived in Greece in the l980s, the exotic and mysterious statue held my fascination I wanted to be there where it was. Set in a garden it had a profound yet exquisite power. Just standing there. Stoic. Unmoving. Unchallenged. Its beauty gave me comfort.
The Colclough Bone China cup is described as -gold floral chintz. It is amusing that fifty-years later we can call up almost anything on the internet to find out the story behind the artifact.
Trip-wiring this memory frontlines the dark and dumb disorder of day to day life, relieving me into a blissful state of wonder again. Only the cup with the Doric column can dismiss any gloom by still being able to transport me to its ‘other world.’
The denouement of this story is now, when I look up from my desk, I physically see that ‘other world’ of the Mediterranean, with yes, a Doric column.
About eighteen months ago when a film producer moved out of my apartment building he left a broken set piece from a movie - the column - in the recycling bin. It stands a good two feet. To me it has the romantic aura of Robert Browning with pen in hand, perhaps to meet the lady in yellow and blue around the corner…
Sure, it’s just plaster but I still posted a sign that reads, “…who doesn’t want a Doric column in their living room….?"
adjective
1 relating to or denoting a classical order of architecture characterized by a sturdy fluted column and a thick square abacus resting on a rounded moulding.
2 relating to the ancient Greek dialect of the Dorians.
• archaic (of a dialect) broad; rustic.
… the ancient Greek dialect of the Dorians. especially the dialect spoken in the northeast of Scotland. ORIGIN via Latin from Greek Dōrikos, from Dōrios (see Dorian).
When I drink tea from a particular porcelain cup of my mother’s which I have known all my life, I am transported to another world. Where the Crinoline Lady in blue and yellow holds a basket of flowers I imagined as a kid, a whole garden of such ladies waiting for me to join them. Considering that it was Winnipeg in 1960 - and likely a frosty winter day at thirty-below zero - the powers of imagination are something to behold.
That Doric column held the most satisfaction. Although I wouldn’t know what that really was until I lived in Greece in the l980s, the exotic and mysterious statue held my fascination I wanted to be there where it was. Set in a garden it had a profound yet exquisite power. Just standing there. Stoic. Unmoving. Unchallenged. Its beauty gave me comfort.
The Colclough Bone China cup is described as -gold floral chintz. It is amusing that fifty-years later we can call up almost anything on the internet to find out the story behind the artifact.
Trip-wiring this memory frontlines the dark and dumb disorder of day to day life, relieving me into a blissful state of wonder again. Only the cup with the Doric column can dismiss any gloom by still being able to transport me to its ‘other world.’
The denouement of this story is now, when I look up from my desk, I physically see that ‘other world’ of the Mediterranean, with yes, a Doric column.
About eighteen months ago when a film producer moved out of my apartment building he left a broken set piece from a movie - the column - in the recycling bin. It stands a good two feet. To me it has the romantic aura of Robert Browning with pen in hand, perhaps to meet the lady in yellow and blue around the corner…
Sure, it’s just plaster but I still posted a sign that reads, “…who doesn’t want a Doric column in their living room….?"