“I held the water to my chest, and I loved.”
― Kiera Cass
In the Odyssey, the Sirens sing a song so irresistible that none can hear it and escape. Circe warns Odysseus of the danger and tells him how to avoid it. He must plug up his mens' ears with beeswax, and have himself tied to the mast, if he wishes to hear it.
As with the lethal text, the implication is that the song has irresistible force. Unlike ordinary language, it cannot be merely heard: it must also be obeyed. Also like lethal texts, it is self-reflexive, in that it is about itself:
Sweet coupled airs we sing.
No lonely seafarer
Holds clear of entering
Our green mirror.
And of course, as with all things which dwell in that realm of the mystical feminine, the Sirens have long been a part of my own artistic evolution.
In this depiction, the siren is mine. Meaning, within us there are aspects of being which call to us, and yes sometimes which shipwrecking and disastrous results, but often self-reflexive and drawing us into the deeper parts of ourselves, where mystery and meaning lies dormant and waiting for reclamation.
And we are warned against following these compelling, haunted charms of darkness within - we are told not to even listen. Or, as women, we are warned - if even in indirect fashion - that this is the fate of men who get too close. We will woo them away from duty and ship with the promise of true treasure. Which of course, is impossible to resist (and something I believe we are born for and into).
Many interpret this as shipwreck.
I always read it as finally learning how to swim.