Laugh of the Medusa
Trinacria
In ancient times
when demigods made myth
and history together
heroic beings
moved upon this isle
in strength and beauty
and terror too
these forms pursued
each other
sometimes changing forms
one to another
or rising from
the wine-red sea
to plunge
into the fertile earth
and later
spring to life again
half human
but already mortal
interred in tombs
that still today endure
to leave behind
exotic names
that history
can never quite accept
nor can they be erased
nor overlooked[1]
The Trinacria has come to symbolize Sicilia – the ancestral home of my father’s family. My ancestral home. The Trinacria has many facets and is complex and mysterious. Medusa is the central focus, surrounded by three bent legs and snaky wheat stalks. She is a symbol of strength, her legs representing the three capes or sides of Sicily, her wheat the foundation of Sicily’s wealth as the bread basket of Italy. And Medusa… I am always fascinated by her, the fallen woman in mythology, punished for a crime acted upon her. Raped by Poseidon in Athena’s temple, Medusa is punished by Athena for this outrage by having her hair turned into snakes and her gaze becomes one of killing, turning men to stone. I have re-invented this myth. There is a multiplicity of stories in my head about Medusa and Athena – both goddesses that have had their stories stolen by men. I believe Athena freed Medusa to revenge herself upon men. It was not a punishment but an empowerment. My current work carries on with the study of the female form. Now I draw upon not only my experience as a farm hand, but my search and studies of my Sicilian ancestry, my family, my own mythology. I strive for answers and make intuitive leaps. This is my father. This is my grandmother. I see me. There is my smile. Those are my sister’s eyes. There is my daughter, my son. We are a complex dance of DNA, movement, construct, outside influence. Look at these women. They are Medusa. I am my own authority. I am many parts. I am mythological. I am Athena. I am Medusa.
“You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she’s not deadly. She’s beautiful and she’s laughing.”[2]
[1] Angela Celeste: http://www.oocities.org/paris/cinema/2649/
[2] Hélène Cixous, “Laugh of the Medusa”