The poem “Ode to Color” (Spring 2014 Intima) by Karen George begins with a note on gratitude by the author’s husband, who lists light moving through the colored glass on a window. Through this entry, the poet reflects on light and color, immersing the reader in the richly-colored love shared. Light bathes their spaces, present even in the shadows. Despite sadness and the threat of significant loss, it shines through in the many-jeweled moments noticed by the poet, who celebrates the heroic in small things that bring joy and hope.
In “Triptych: Oncology Fish,” I also reflect on intimate moments with my mother, through the fluctuations of emotions in the hospital treatment suite. The fish tank in the reception area is a prism refracting our experiences. In the central photo of the triptych, my mother is seen through the clear water of the tank. A fish swims between us.
After reading “Ode to Color,” I thought about my mother’s posture in the photo—how she leans forward in the seat, her face partly shaded by the straw hat, her cane resting nearby, ready for her to rise again. Although a strong, energetic and fearless woman, she seems introspective or tired.
Her pose reminds me of the image of Pallas Athena, goddess of wisdom and heroic victory, in the 460 BC bas-relief, now in the Acropolis museum. Athena’s enigmatic posture in this work has been described as one of mourning, pondering or resting. Like my mother, she holds her gaze pensively downward. The goddess wears a battle helmet, while my mother wears a straw hat. Instead of Athena’s spear, my mother has her cane nearby. The rectangular block before Athena is mysterious: Scholars disagree whether it could be a stele marking a holy space, a monument for fallen heroes, or a marker for a competitive race. While we often think of gods and goddesses as bigger than life, this powerful image is about half a meter in height.
Both Karen George’s poem, and my “Triptych:Oncology Fish,” share an expression of admiration for the resplendent inner strength in our loved ones, emanating despite the foreboding shadows of illness, suffering and loss. The emotions floating around our lived spaces as our loved ones endure and battle disease in the face of difficult circumstances move in many directions including grieving, reflecting, hoping, enduring and celebrating, colors that shift and radiate with the heroically hopeful, illuminating presence of gratitude and love.
Above: One photo from the triptych © Oncology Fish. Laura Arena Fall 2023 Intima. Take a moment to view all three of these remarkable photographs and learn more about how the work came about.
Laura Carmen Arena is an Argentinian-American writer and visual artist and an experienced yoga and meditation teacher based in Cambridge. She has led workshops on meditation and yoga at universities and other professional settings and her photography has appeared in local and international outlets. She studied literature at New York University, and contemplative traditions, education and creative writing at Harvard University, where she also served as a teaching fellow, photographer, web master and assistant director of multicultural affairs.