reflections on the swans

i have been trying to understand what exactly draws my curiosity to the figure of the swan. swans are not birds that have always attracted me in the past. in fact, i have been quite terrified of them at times. something about their sharp beaks and grandiose wings. or perhaps their sassy and intimidating glances which accentuate their imposing presence as they dance over a body of usually murky water. in any case, i have learned to make peace with my fears of swans — in fact i’ve been particularly drawn to them in the last few months as i have been saluting them weekly on my way to work through hyde park.

there is something so striking about their graceful presence that always throws me aback. it’s like they remind me of an ideal I am starting to forget as i, like many of us, navigate through the complexities of modern love. their monogamous and generally very committed approach to romantic unions almost turns them into symbolic reminders of a love that many of us crave but may have lost hope in; as the world races faster and hearts are commodified.

i am currently participating in a group show with kristin hjellegjerde gallery in west palm beach, and it is when preparing for this show that my research on this topic began. beyond my personal (now) attraction to the symbol of the swan, i’ve been curious into seeing at which points swans has appeared throughout art history and literature over the last few centuries. this naturally pretty quickly led me down a path of reflecting on the famous greek myth of leda and the swan, in which, in a nutshell, zeus transforms himself into a beautiful swan in the hopes of luring leda, queen of sparta, who eventually, falls in love with him, or as w. b. yeats would argue, is sexually assaulted by him. the morality behind this myth is ambiguous: some would focus on the relationship between violence, consent, namely when reading yeats’ poem and when experiencing the poem through a feminist lens. others, ie. the ancient greeks, would highlight the concept of divine power over human will as being the main takeaway of the tale. in any case, this story feels particularly tragic and deep, and in my opinion, it undeniably evokes several intrinsic archetypes, which smoothly, naturally leads me on to the next part of my interest in the subject: carl jung’s interpretation of the swan as it relates to the unconscious, archetypes and the process of individuation. jung uses the classic fairytale of the ‘six swans’ by the brothers grimm to emphasise the individuation process, in other words, the journey towards psychological wholeness. the tale is about a king's six sons who are turned into swans by their wicked stepmother. the princess, their sister, must remain silent for six years and sew six shirts made from starwort (a type of plant), which proves to be a painful task, in order to break the spell. despite all the suffering she endures in the process, she completes her task and saves her brothers. without diving into too much detail for the sake of keeping these reflections short and concise, jung pinpoints the concept of individuation in this story (the princess must undergo trials and suffering to integrate aspects of herself and ‘heal’ her fractured inner world, which is represented by her brothers). he also uses the character of the stepmother to embody the concept of the shadow, the silence and strength of the sister to complete the task as a form of letting go of her ego and also integrating her animus (the masculine element of the female psyche) into her journey of becoming ‘whole’ and balanced.

we can also choose to look at the symbol of the swan and the shadow from a slightly different angle, namely as portrayed by nina in darren aronofsky’s ‘black swan’, where the director specifically focuses on the colour of the swan as it relates to socially accepted behaviours vs. repressed ones. the transformation of nina’s character in being a ‘good girl’ through the image of the white swan (delicate, pure, innocent, ‘behaved’, fragile) to her personal evolution through her shadow projection on the character of lily, dancing the part of the black swan (symbolising our ‘shadow’ side: our repressed instincts, desires, impulses, yearnings for power and chaos…) is truly fascinating to me. knowing that we, as human beings have the potential to follow through with either of these parts of ourselves through conscious awareness and shadow work is an incredibly empowering and liberating realisation.

anyways, i could go deeper into this analysis but let’s just return to the emotional kingdom for a second as a way to end all of these sporadic ‘swanny’ thoughts (and yes i think i may have just embarrassingly made that word up). ‘the swan, like the soul of the poet, by the dull world is ill understood’, said the 19th century german poet heinrich heine in his ‘evening songs (no. 2)’. perhaps he had a point, namely in the realm of swans and their connection to romance. when i have had the chance to observe two swans falling in love, i can’t help but sense the strongest form of love — one that could be classified as (the christian term) ‘agape’ — the purest, most selfless and unconditional love. one that bathes in deep prayer and peace. one that, if i am being truthful, i am manifesting, if i have the privilege to experience a love like this. but how does one receive this sort of love in the hectic world we find ourselves in? it seems like the most impossible and delusional task. emotions and insecurities get in the way of people experiencing this simple, honest and reliable form of love and it is something i don’t think i will ever truly understand. perhaps this final thought will follow me until my swansong…