Remembrance, Survival and The Red Poppy
Once upon a time, I had poppies (papaver orientalis) in my garden, the traditional scarlet; I am all about tradition after all. Poppy leaves are not beautiful: they are coarse, hairy, spikey, and they splay out everywhere, uncaring of order, untamed. Out of this coarse, hairy mound, the plant sends up tall, rounded spikes with a fuzzy, football-shaped bud that hovers over the unruly leaf mass. Those plump buds open to exquisite flowers: big, boldly-colored, organdy petals punctuated by the black center that crawls up the petals in dark lines. I cherish the contrasts, the cycle of watching such an ugly mess yield that eye-catching beauty, floating above it.
Early in pottery making, I was doodling poppies onto the clay body using different methods, carving with scrifitto, drawing in a slip trailer, painting an abbreviated impresario with a brush. Then I saw Kenzo’s 2022 collection: big, bold red poppies splashed across shirts, skirts, jackets. I wanted that visual impact, that punch of red on bright white clay: red, black and white together, maybe a surprise drop of green here and there, so bold, practically screaming, “HELLLLOOOO, CAN YOU SEE ME NOW?!”
To truly connect with a thing, you need context; you need to know it’s origin story. What does it mean?
The scarlet poppy became a symbol of war and remembrance of those who died in war because of the hardy European field poppy that sprung up across battlefields following World War I and later in World War II: I imagine it was the only thing of beauty in a field littered with the detritus – real and remembered – of those horrific battles.
I was introduced to the poppy as that symbol on a celebration of Remembrance Day at the an embassy party. We were handed tiny paper poppies to wind around clothing buttons and through buttonholes. Remembrance Day is celebrated in Belgium and France and its date commemorates the cessation of hostilities at the Western Front during World War I.
As I have begun to research more on the symbology of this bold sentinel of European battlefields, I have come to appreciate the flower’s dogged impetus to survive and to survive at scenes of man-made horror. Those tiny poppy seeds can lie dormant in soil for years awaiting favorable climatic conditions to grow, flourish and flower, and it is that quality that imbues them with the sense of transcendence made manifest, a floral phoenix; and a meme of remembrance.
While I have adopted them for the visual impact, I appreciate their significance as totems of remembrance, transcendence over trauma and the beauty we sometimes need to search out when life is unbearable.