Baudelairian Commute
The clouds were beautiful Monday morning driving to work. Raking sunlight infused color into a sky that opened broadly. As I sat in traffic on the Kennedy Expressway, I took this photo and thought of Baudelaire’s poem The Stranger –
Tell me, enigmatical man, whom do you love best, your father, your mother, your sister, or your brother?
I have neither father, nor mother, nor sister, nor brother.
Your friends?
Now you use a word whose meaning I have never known.
Your country?
I do not know in what latitude it lies.
Beauty?
I could indeed love her, Goddess and Immortal
Gold?
I hate it as you hate God.
Then, what do you love, extraordinary stranger?
I love the clouds… the clouds that pass… up there… up there… the wonderful clouds!
(Louise Varese translation)
My introduction to the poem came through Ulrich Baer’s Remnants of Song: Trauma and the Experience of Modernity in Charles Baudelaire and Paul Celan. More than a hundred and fifty years on, it’s a poem that can still seduce and shock. Baer, NYU professor and talented literary critic, uses it as a leaping off point to interrogate key issues of modernity. Questions of freedom and alienation may seem relevant when trapped in stop and go traffic. My thoughts, thought, were about attentiveness, our engagement and awareness of our surroundings. We live in distracting times and there is always another image, another experience, just a click away.
Conscious of this, I clicked a photo myself, wondering if others were looking and considering the wonderful clouds.
David Potash