Cultural Perspectives
By Tim Hazell (May 5, 2006)

A little water music
We have always been close to fear, wonder and delight,
In a place where waves and creativity are born.
We have yelled and flailed, or were entwined
Wherever fragments of real life converged.
We shed luscious tears, lustrous blue tears that sting ...

Since the coalescence of large-scale agrarian settlements, water has invariably been a priceless commodity throughout most of the world's arid regions. Any unwarranted diversion of its flow during ancient processes of irrigation constituted theft.

Myths about water have inspired literature of theocracies, as far back as the time of Imhotep, vizier, physician and architect to Third Dynasty Egyptian Pharaoh Djoser, circa 2,850 BCE. The story of Imhotep dividing the waters to allow a comely, fishnet-clad rower aboard the king's pleasure boat to retrieve her malachite pendant predates the biblical parting of the Red Sea by 1,500 years. 

Deltas of famous rivers served as gathering places for worship and scholarly debate. Prescientific links were forged between cause and effect in attempts to unravel enigmas of natural storm phenomena and precipitation. Engineers, philosophers and artists pioneering strategies to harness the potential of water to drive the first complex machines were to cross boundaries of science and aesthetics, influencing design and innovation in sculpture, painting and music. 

Invitations to participate in water-related experiences trigger subliminal emotions and passions. To collect its bounty in the smooth barrel of a tinaco reservoir and listen for its voice is to know the speech of imprisoned water. Light's dance on liquid shimmering in a bucket provides an elixir for romance, courtship and dreams. 

Open your door and listen for my call.
We go to the well, you and I, to draw water from it
Water for the thirst of the God, for the thirst of ourselves and our children.
Water for the thirsty pot over the fire, in which we will boil our food.
I daydream as clouds gather and a heavier rain begins.
As she readies my bath, my mother is asking, "What is that smell?"
The water's scent of all herbs combined, a scent that emanates from the fields,
From the wild flowers at the river's edge like water music
To serenade the eternal summer's night.
I expect to smell like this red water does forever, like perfumed blood.
Forms emerging from water take on human characteristics and sensibilities. Sagas recount the tale of the Lord Fish, with barbelled carp's face and limbs of a gentleman. A hybrid in silks, coattails and cravat who dwelt among his minions, the Lord masqueraded as a dandy within a half-timbered manor. In darkness, he would venture forth with only a servant ahead, who carried a lantern to light the northern mist-a symbolic portage. 
Notwithstanding the pathos of devotion, obsession and necessities of survival, Lord Fish coveted his Jezebel's plankton embrace, musing aloud in a rare moment of bliss. 
I am flooded on the inside.
I churn, my lungs threaten to burst.
I feel intensely alive at this moment,
Ignited by Water that is an intrinsic part of me,
That no one else will ever possess ...


Water dissolves and reconciles everything, the one arbitrator impossible to resist. Wind and rain in Japanese art conjure up images of purified souls, souls that shiver and are water essence. 

Water in contemporary expressionism has given painters palettes to depict blue arms cradling flowers, fish navigating an inverted universe and birds charting their course through oceans capsized. Oceans extend our references to the ionosphere and space beyond. A mariner consoles his beloved before departing on an interminable voyage, possibly his last, upon forsaken and godless seas. He softens absence with a litany of prayer.


Follow the fishes in flight, the birds that swim, due south,
Bound for humid coasts and pink sands.
Grief will surely evaporate. 
Aromas of salt air, chillies, lemons and garlic,
And the scaly fruits of the sea, split over a charcoal fire,
Will inundate your senses.
Leave your messages for me on scraps of paper
With the land crabs that scuttle sideways
Up the trunks of mangrove.
They will deliver them.
I'll pick them up from the treetops.
This is permitted.


Siren, take a moment to consider these
Mysteries for I leave them behind as gifts.
These simple truths that stand alone.


Above your head, at your feet, 
A sky that undulates, a sea that vibrates. 


Tim Hazell is a multidisciplinary artist in the areas of painting, music, theater, education, writing and research, specializing in Latin America. He may be contacted at hazel@unisono.net.mx  or at his website, www.timhazell.com