Ekphrastic Poem of ‘Veiled Woman’
This ghostly skeletal
wind blown woman rendered
blue black green over grey white mouth agape tongue forward
spews words of warning from between broken teeth
Thin wavy lines pen a veil over her forehead obscuring her eyes
slashes of India ink thread across her thin white cheeks
and sweep dark thoughts into a void
where one ebony orb hunts our gaze
Her grey green shroud spills over into our space outside the frame
topped by a blue-black cloth receding into the nether world
short margin to the edge of heaven or hell
She’s a mystifying woman with aquiline nose and finely structured face
bony high cheeks transparent skin
horizontal streaks bewitch us as scars incise her face
and draw us into the background on a different plane
Vertical black lines criss-cross the painting
my mind imagines menacing sounds emanate from her
like eerie strings that play a foreboding song
as she shoulders burdens of war and loss
Green-black wash blasts across the veiled woman’s head
heavy strokes sear through the front and back into her brow
bitter past life hides in her dark obscure eye off center
Yet were we to reach out to her
she would retreat into her mantle as a turtle into its shell
she is bundled she is enveloped
detailed with one white button at the neck protecting her skeletal image
Finally, overworked ink and pencil roughly handled
tear at the fibers of this watercolor abrade the prepared paper
scratch through leaving edges of light
probably our mothers’ spirits to be seen only on the obverse
Veiled Woman 1962
To my Mother, Minnie Russack
The following poem is a tribute to both my mother and to Toskovic for the deep connection
made through his art. This watercolor by Toskovic is identical to a red ochre pastel that my mother bought from him 55
years ago.
Mama, your heart must be encased here with this mother’s image.
In the National Museum, where her duplicate resides,
She is named ‘Old Montenegrin Woman in Traditional Dress’.
But no! She is a universal image, that spoke to you, my midwestern Jewish mother.
I had counted you among middle class mahjong players with gentle manners, for whom art was purchased to match
the living room couch.
How you surprised me when you hung that shadowy spectral image in our walnut paneled den!
You created a mystery for me choosing the ‘Veiled Woman’.
How did this mournful visage speak to you? Did you see her as a stand-in for your own enigmas,
hidden beneath view, veiled, describing a culture of unspoken feelings, the Jungian shadow crying into your deep heart?
Was she a witch who bewitched you? Was she the spiritual and sublime side of you?
How I yearn to hear you tell me the story that Toskovic’s painting told you!
©Linda Tobin
