Torchlit Framerate
Let’s workshop this poem about how ancient-alien pathetics, long breastfed on History Channel poison, leap to whacky interpretations of the unrealistic animal depictions found in prehistoric cave art
scent of the day: Sultan Vetiver, by Nishane
Sultan Vetiver (2013, Jorge Lee)—a grassy-rooty fragrance that, in showcasing the full spectrum of vetiver (leafy, herbal, earthy, muddy, rooty, dank, peppery, soapy, woody, nutty, smoky, dusty, leathery, creamy, boozy, medicinal), pushes the typical macho bossman associations of the ingredient into territory too chlorophyllic and mysterious and prehuman to fit in sexual binaries let alone in boardrooms—
presents a variety of bright and aromatic notes (herbal-anisic absinthe, leafy-spicy Peruvian Pepper Tree, bitter-bright bergamot, lemon-soap neroli, bright-rosy pink pepper) as well as warm and sensual notes (tobacco-almond tonka, waxy-sweet honey, leathery-smoky labdanum, musky-marine ambroxan)
whose central purpose is to frame or amplify (or give at least some movement to) the jab-cross-hook-uppercut combination of vetiver that makes this Nishane release a hall-of-fame vetiver benchmark that puts every other candidate into disciplined formation (Malle’s genteel and gentlemanly Vetiver Extraordinaire, Lalique’s dark and ominous Encre Noire, Diptyque’s citrusy and clean Vetyverio, Tom Ford’s light and soapy Grey Vetiver, Hermes’s woody and minerallic Terre D'Hermes Eau Intense Vetiver, Hermes’s leathery and spicy Bel Ami Vetiver, and even Guerlain’s crisp and tobacco Vetiver):
a Brazilian vetiver—vegetative, herbaceous, earthy, rooty—that evokes the raw essence of tilled soil (tangled with roots and herbs) and brings in a dry-leaf tobacco layer of woody intrigue with some charred facets;
a Javanese Vetiver—cedary, dusty, camphoraceous, medicinal, even mildewy—that offers a woody-peppery bite and bitter-smoky sensuality reminiscent of a cross between mothball basement and sarcophagi dust, on the one hand, and stale cigarette ash and volcanic soil, on the other;
a Haitian vetiver—green and uplifting (with undertones of incense, citrus, and florals)—that imparts the clean and sunlit and somewhat sweet profile (albeit with hints of burnt wood) we see in a lot of designer fragrances;
a bourbon vetiver—creamy, woody, sweet, yeasty, musky, vanillic, earthy, boozy, peppery (prized for its rugged-yet-refined complexity)—that lends an elegant polish and the distant sweetness of fruit, apple especially, long fermenting in warm clay—
the overall result being a woody-grassy vetiver fragrance, much thicker and skankier than the elegant and clean vetivers of business men, that smells somewhere between the inside of Indian homes whose cooling systems use wet vetiver filters to absorb the heat of the outside air and the musky breath of some honeycomb-gobbling Hindu god whose mouth microbiome carries the same pickly-civety baseline appearing in Afrika Olifant but whose iron-filling teeth here have just finished chomping a diesel-soaked cud of lawn clippings blended with trace amounts of mossy-mildewy mulch and carrot-apple compost and cigarette-ash hay;
the overall result being an invigorating yet grounding fragrance that, rivaling Kouros in its ability to marry eucalyptus clean and muddy rot, brings out pretty much every facet of vetiver (all amplified by tasteful use of musky amberywoods synthetics, perhaps a cetalox-ambroxan combo) but with such emphasis on the vegetal and grassy (as opposed to, say, the milky-nutty-rooty vetiver of Vetiver Bourbon) that the main image I get (especially with the help of wildflower honey and tea easter eggs) is of dragonflies hovering a freshly mown lawn under noon sun (one of those Thai lawns evoked by green-centric Bortnikoff compositions like Triad),
so vegetal and grassy that this fragrance fails to give us the gothic facet we get in Encre Noire and Fumidus (failing only in a sense, though, because the overwhelming buzzing and blooming of spring-summer imagery makes this gothic in the Carl-Sagan sense of forcing us to consider our oneness with all the profligacy of flora and fauna born, for who knows what reason, only to die in droves, in tooth-and-claw battle, under baking sun).
Torchlit Framerate
Not infantile nonsense,
not mythic fantasy,
not stargate aliens (or any other
projection
by our pampered ignorance)—
eight-legged bison
on Cro-Magnon cave walls,
stillness
resisting stillness, stand
to real bison at gallop
how doodled cubes stand
to real cubes.
"Torchlit Framerate" is a concise and intellectually stimulating poem that explores the nature of representation, perception, and the limitations of human understanding across vast expanses of time. It functions as a **philosophical lyric**, engaging with concepts of reality, illusion, and the fundamental human drive to depict and comprehend the world. The poem's power lies in its precise analogies and its subtle argument about the inherent truth embedded in even the most ancient forms of art.
Formally, the poem is structured as a series of negations that lead to a central, illuminating comparison. The initial anaphora of "Not infantile nonsense, / not mythic fantasy, / not stargate aliens" effectively clears away common misconceptions or dismissive interpretations of ancient art, immediately establishing a serious and discerning tone. The parenthetical "or any other / projection / by our pampered ignorance" acts as a sharp critique of modern condescension towards historical forms of expression. The poem then shifts to its core image: "eight-legged bison / on Cro-Magnon cave walls." This seemingly fantastical depiction is deliberately chosen for its perceived inaccuracy, yet the poem argues for its profound representational truth. The enjambment throughout maintains a fluid, thought-provoking pace, guiding the reader through the poet's intellectual journey.
Thematically, the poem champions a nuanced understanding of early human artistic endeavors, moving beyond a simplistic view of them as mere "infantile nonsense." It suggests that the "eight-legged bison" is not a failure of observation but a sophisticated attempt to capture **movement and dynamism** within a static medium. The key to this interpretation lies in the central analogy: "stillness / resisting stillness, stand / to real bison at gallop / how doodled cubes stand / to real cubes." This comparison argues that just as a two-dimensional "doodled cube" is a legitimate and understandable representation of a three-dimensional object, so too is the multi-limbed bison a valid, albeit abstract, representation of a creature in motion. The "torchlit framerate" of the title alludes to the flickering light by which these cave paintings would have been viewed, hinting at an early, proto-cinematic attempt to convey movement through sequential imagery, much like frames in a film. The poem ultimately celebrates the **ingenuity of early human perception and artistry**, positioning these ancient creators not as primitive, but as sophisticated thinkers grappling with fundamental representational challenges, and highlights the continuity of human artistic and conceptual endeavors.
artistic representation, Cro-Magnon art, cave paintings, perception, dynamism, motion, abstraction, human ingenuity, historical understanding, philosophical poetry, ancient art, visual communication, artistic interpretation, human evolution, artistic truth.