Sunday, 8 November 2015

Doppelganger


A doppelganger, or aesthetic double, was first heard by me in context of ‘Stone Roses’ guitarist John Squire who, in emulation of artist Jackson Pollock, crafted the ‘doppeldosseldorfelganger’, by throwing tins of emulsion paint on huge sheets of paper.   


One of my other fondest memories of school (refers back to last month’s blog) was the skilful and conscientious approach my fellow students and I too to ensuring all teachers had a doppelganger. I recall ‘Tom Sellick’, ‘Blackadder’, ‘Jimmy Hill’, ‘Taggart’, ‘Dirty Den’, and thus we amused ourselves with such, blissfully unaware of how such practice could hamper harmony and career development in the real world. 


I was astounded to hear last week that people confuse ‘James Bond’ heartthrob Daniel Craig with overly self-indulgent candy-rapper Craig David.  I have been likened to Ewan Macgregor, a young Robert De Niro, and Max Beesley have been suggested over the years as my doppelganger, but Sports/News reporter Dan Block is the only one I have ever been mistaken for. And yes I did ‘fess up’ despite the young lady in question seeming to want ‘plus-de-autograph.’ I do have to sleep at night. 


But as a poet, using the word ‘Like’ is pivotal in description. My romantic poems usually want to convey adoration by likening to natural beauty other than the girl I’m writing about. Nature poems, and poems about places will also usually personify, to bring them to life in the mind of the consumer. Although not a ‘doppleganger’ per se, it is a pairing of sorts. 


Researching poems about ‘doppelgangers’ turns up some interesting themes. Whitney Metz, a fellow blogger, suggests her ‘doppelganger’ may be a parallel whilst antithesis version of her that’s done everything differently, and seems quite hopeful of this. I’m not sure I’d change that much about me, would you? I mean about you, not me. I’ll look at me. And my doppelganger.



No regrets

Some yet’s

No pets

No vets

bill yet

Other me

I see

Can’t be

Maybe

Loosely


© Ian Rusetear MMXV


Have a wonderful Sunday. The leaves will dance around, freed to reveal the bony fingers of trees, and silver grey barks await the winter snow.  Natures great shows continue.
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