Owls and Rivers

I realized last night that I'm somewhat scared of owls. Not of physical owls; we don't really cross paths. But I'm scared of liking owls and owl motifs too much.

Take this woodblock print:


It is by Kawano, an artist who I love. I would love to own a Kawano print, and I like this one (although there are others I like more). Last night on eBay, it was at $9.99, but that will not stay. It will go quite high, and so I am not bothering right now, as it's belt-tightening time, not art-buying time. I like to fantasize once in awhile is all.

Anyway, the owls. I don't know why my mind is stuck in junior high lately, but there was this teacher there who was head-to-toe owl lady. Not Ms. G-W, but Miss H. Miss H. struck me even then as a tragic, tragic owl-adorned figure. She was probably close to retirement and could not relate to the students at all. She was grumpy and mean. Consequently, the students were not kind (I was among them). And the owls. Good lord, the owls dangling around her neck, from her ears, perched on her desk, etc. Big, ornate owls.

So I don't want to be like her, you know? Liking owls can lead to bad things.

Also, rivers. I love rivers as a motif, and I think that's OK; I never had a tragic teacher who wore voluminous river jewelry. But I've been wanting to move, and thinking about the concept of place, and this print made me think:

It is a lovely one, by Koitsu. See the lovely summer night on the river? I look at this and could cry at how much I want to be in that scene, on a river in Kyoto, fitting in and drinking at one of those glowing inns or in that little boat, looking at all the lights and stars. The thing is, I basically live on a river right now. I'm steps from being riverside. Across the street is a hotel with a restaurant that looks over the river. There are several restaurants, in fact, along the river. But it's not the right river, and they're not the right restaurants, and there sure as hell is no little pleasure boat like that.

See, some people are disappointed because they expect reality to be like the movies. It's woodblock prints that get to me.

But really, is it so wrong to want to do a bit of sophisticated merrymaking in a little lantern-strung pleasure boat on a romantic river under a clear, unpolluted night sky? It seems like it should be do-able.