I love this! I love the neck, that reminds me of some necks I know (and love). I love the skin of the cap that reminds me of some skins I know. Of course, I love the pun. And I love the myriad metaphoric possibilities that I keep ruminating over… hanging out too long in the dark, sudden growth, sending out fertile spores, deadly poisonous, looking different from others… My thanks to Anonymous.
Mmm, fly agaric – producer of ecstatic visions and psychotic rages.
“The active ingredient is excreted in the urine of those consuming the mushrooms, and it has sometimes been the practice for a shaman to consume the mushrooms, and the rest of the tribe to drink his urine: the shaman, in effect, partially detoxifying the drug (the sweat- and twitch-causing muscarine is absent in the urine). If a fly agaric is eaten, it is usually not fresh, but in its sun-dried form, where the hallucinogenic chemicals are more concentrated (ibotenic acid converted to the more stable and far less poisonous muscimol).
I found the connection obvious, being especially fond of that part of Leslee’s poem, and had assumed that was part of why you had chosen this particular image for publication at this particular time.
The very most fun thing about art, written or visual, or even editorial, is that you can mean something very specific and yet those who receive the art may or may not get what you meant and will almost always, instead or in addition, see something else.
Sometimes we receive art very personally. Sometimes we create art very personally, then send it out in the world where it makes personal connections with others for entirely different reasons. As the young say now, meaning something entirely different from what my young set used to mean, “It’s all good.”
We didn’t choose it as much as it just appeared — as an anonymous submission inspired by Leslee’s poem. Which is pretty cool, and one of the things we hope will keep happening here.
I’ve been meaning to comment… Wonderful drawing, very funny, and I wasn’t sure if Deliquesce had anything to do with it but I’m thrilled to read here that it did indeed spawn this hallucinogenic delight. (I also thought it must be a fellow Northeasterner turning fungal in the deluge we were living through.) Thanks, Anonymous!
Floralegia
October 24, 2005 at 7:04 am
MUSHROOMS
Rain, and then
the cool pursed
lips of the wind
draw them
out of the ground–
red and yellow skulls
pummeling upward
through leaves,
through grasses,
through sand; astonishing
in their suddenness,
their quietude,
their wetness, they appear
on fall mornings, some
balancing in the earth
on one hoof
packed with poison,
others billowing
chunkily, and delicious–
those who know
walk out to gather, choosing
the benign from flocks
of glitterers, sorcerers,
russulas,
panther caps,
shark-white death angels
in teir torn veils
looking innocent as sugar
but full of paralysis:
to eat is to stagger down
fast as mushrooms themselves
when they are done being perfect
and overnight
slide back under the shining
fields of rain.
– Mary Oliver (*American Primitive*)
the sylph
October 26, 2005 at 1:06 pm
smooth bald cap, spores invisible to the naked eye, dissemination, idea spawn, a single button, press for service
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qarrtsiluni 
Lovely drawing, humorous yet thought provoking.
Oh, dear. I identify far too strongly :->
Great drawing!
I love this! I love the neck, that reminds me of some necks I know (and love). I love the skin of the cap that reminds me of some skins I know. Of course, I love the pun. And I love the myriad metaphoric possibilities that I keep ruminating over… hanging out too long in the dark, sudden growth, sending out fertile spores, deadly poisonous, looking different from others… My thanks to Anonymous.
Anonymous mushroom, anonymous artist…I love the freedom and the mystery, the suppression of ego.
Mmm, fly agaric – producer of ecstatic visions and psychotic rages.
“The active ingredient is excreted in the urine of those consuming the mushrooms, and it has sometimes been the practice for a shaman to consume the mushrooms, and the rest of the tribe to drink his urine: the shaman, in effect, partially detoxifying the drug (the sweat- and twitch-causing muscarine is absent in the urine). If a fly agaric is eaten, it is usually not fresh, but in its sun-dried form, where the hallucinogenic chemicals are more concentrated (ibotenic acid converted to the more stable and far less poisonous muscimol).
“It has been suggested that the berserkers took the fly agaric before battle.”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fly_Agaric
HA HA HA HA HA
Somebody else getting too wet out there? Sometimes, some dark days, the brain definitely feels more fungal than electric.
I hope people will go back and read Leslee’s poem “Deliquesce” again, if, like me, they missed the connection the first time around…
I found the connection obvious, being especially fond of that part of Leslee’s poem, and had assumed that was part of why you had chosen this particular image for publication at this particular time.
The very most fun thing about art, written or visual, or even editorial, is that you can mean something very specific and yet those who receive the art may or may not get what you meant and will almost always, instead or in addition, see something else.
Sometimes we receive art very personally. Sometimes we create art very personally, then send it out in the world where it makes personal connections with others for entirely different reasons. As the young say now, meaning something entirely different from what my young set used to mean, “It’s all good.”
We didn’t choose it as much as it just appeared — as an anonymous submission inspired by Leslee’s poem. Which is pretty cool, and one of the things we hope will keep happening here.
I’ve been meaning to comment… Wonderful drawing, very funny, and I wasn’t sure if Deliquesce had anything to do with it but I’m thrilled to read here that it did indeed spawn this hallucinogenic delight. (I also thought it must be a fellow Northeasterner turning fungal in the deluge we were living through.) Thanks, Anonymous!
MUSHROOMS
Rain, and then
the cool pursed
lips of the wind
draw them
out of the ground–
red and yellow skulls
pummeling upward
through leaves,
through grasses,
through sand; astonishing
in their suddenness,
their quietude,
their wetness, they appear
on fall mornings, some
balancing in the earth
on one hoof
packed with poison,
others billowing
chunkily, and delicious–
those who know
walk out to gather, choosing
the benign from flocks
of glitterers, sorcerers,
russulas,
panther caps,
shark-white death angels
in teir torn veils
looking innocent as sugar
but full of paralysis:
to eat is to stagger down
fast as mushrooms themselves
when they are done being perfect
and overnight
slide back under the shining
fields of rain.
– Mary Oliver (*American Primitive*)
smooth bald cap, spores invisible to the naked eye, dissemination, idea spawn, a single button, press for service