Tag: art

  • Softly In Silence

    Softly In Silence

    Softly in silence, I lie to hide all the deception and lies from my naive heart
    I had to endure an existence of deceit and coercion
    Like a nightmare ghoul oppressing my pale slumber
    In an eternal night of haunting memories and wail

    I had constantly desired to be cherished and loved in vain
    I would have rather been remembered for my art than for my beauty
    So I preferred to hide behind my shield of silence and vanish into the ephemeral aether
    Like the mystic smoke from a burning flame

    Alas, in this silence, I remained quietly still like a crystal gem
    I was a withered bloom in a winter’s storm
    Unseen, unloved, forgotten
    Cradled in the embrace of the darkness

    I did not live for the sake of grace but for the grief
    Each heartbeat was woven in the dimness
    I was but a ghost wishing only to be mourned before bleeding my heart out
    Exanimate, I was sinking into a chaotic ecstasy of sorrow

    The eternal night cherished all my forbidden secrets
    Since I was forever bound to the dim dusk
    And every instant was midnight only for me
    Because I had obliterated time permanently

    I was born just as a punishment by the hands of my wicked fate
    Even the gleaming stars of the midnight sky had no mercy
    They stared at me indifferently as if my existence was just a futility
    I had lost every privilege to dream

    Just for a moment, I strived to change my fortune
    But I had no more strength to continue to exist
    All that I could do was stare at the walls of my dark chamber and fantasise
    I let the realm of dreams and absurdities swallow me

    I had to say goodbyes to the reality and normality
    I became a creature of a world of folly and oddities
    Only frenzies raptured my heart violently, and I let them in
    Softly in silence, I fell into the abyss of my own affliction.
    Elisabetta

  • Crying To Death

    Crying To Death

    Crying to death until I lose all my fears
    Crying to death until my heart bleeds the last drop of grief
    I don’t remember my name anymore
    I come from a faraway realm where dreams are forbidden
    I wander astray in the labyrinth of my bleeding heart

    Not anymore comforted by solace and delight
    I strive to find refuge in my secret realm of illusions
    Because I love to lie to myself with shameless boldness
    Because I love to fill my heart with deception

    I’m untamed and wild, and I don’t bow to any convention
    It’s impossible to fit my soul inside a box of comfort
    Too many thoughts crowd my mind
    Too many emotions crowd my heart
    I’m a paroxysm, a burst of madness wrapped in the quietness of my sorrow

    I love to wear exclusively beautiful vintage-style dresses and ballerinas
    I love to wear red lipstick and red nail polish
    I never cut my long blond hair because they keep my little secrets for years discretely
    I love books but sometimes I keep them closed as if I would like to guess what is going to happen next in the story

    I mainly write night and day and I cannot see myself not writing even a day
    That would be like asking me not to breathe
    I suffer in silence when I am home alone so nobody can discover it
    I never plan what I’m going to write because I believe in improvisation in poetry
    I love cloudy skies but not the rain because it makes me feel miserable

    I love to be in love but I also love to be loved and adored
    Solitude and books are my best companions, indeed the only ones
    I adore art in all its forms, music, literature and art
    Sometimes I prefer to write in a direct way and simple style without labyrinths of metaphors

    Crying to death is a way to express myself when I’m suffering unbearably
    And when I don’t feel understood and seen by the other creatures of this planet or when memories come to visit me
    After all, we suffer mainly because of indifference or tainted interactions with other entities or because of something we don’t want to remember

    I feel like an alien creature not belonging to standard society and as an introvert it’s very difficult being part of this messed ocean where I never felt comfortable. So bizarre and odd I’m in the other’s sight that I cannot blend with them.
    Therefore, I dwell in my loneliness where I have built my castle of dreams.
    Elisabetta

  • The Yellow Rose

    The Yellow Rose

    The yellow rose is my beloved flower
    She watches over me like a star in a dream
    She is always there for me, listening to me
    I love my yellow rose, and she loves me

    In my loneliness, I shun every human shape
    My only refuges are poetry, literature, art and flowers
    I am so overwhelmed by life that I cannot comprehend the sense of my fate
    And so, I abandon myself to decadence and beauty

    Daydreaming is one of my favourite solaces
    I can fly whenever I wish with my imagination
    Avoiding facing a reality and a society I don’t understand
    Feeling always different from others
    I cannot avoid to fall into the valley of despair

    My yellow rose watches over me like a guardian angel
    She is actually my angel, and I protects me from nightmares
    In my secret and hidden garden made of secrets and enigmas
    Where I can lose control of my emotions and be myself

    Panic spasms shake me in my slumber, surrounded by the darkest darkness
    And I can barely breathe, feeling invisible chains around my neck
    And a poundage on my body like an enormous demon of the night
    A ghoul that afflicts my heart with its sharp spear

    The sound of the night birds awakes me in my bed
    And I don’t see anymore my yellow rose that was just an illusion
    A beautiful delusional vision of my subconscious
    I’m all alone again and nothing can protect me anymore

    All my life has been a majestic nightmare
    A nightmare made of violence and survival
    An agony made of horror and demise
    Where there was no place for dreams and hopes

    Being voiceless and invisible has been always my reality
    In an existence where I never wanted to be alive
    Being but a doll, half alive and half dead
    A manipulated and deceived doll

    The yellow was my deliverance and the only companion I had
    But she never existed, for she was the fruit of my illusions
    She was the shining star I had always dreamed of
    And forgetting about this life
    I continue to dream because I’m only made of dreams and stars.
    Elisabetta

  • The Gaze Of My Heart

    The Gaze Of My Heart

    The gaze of my heart follows passions
    Like a moth entranced by the moon’s wicked glow
    Hovering through the realms of fire and shadow
    Where longings bloom in silent anguish

    It ignores wisdom, and it doesn’t fear any abyss
    Drawn to forbidden dreams and extravagant art
    My heart gleams at the verge of madness
    And it sculpts sorrow into an artwork of dark

    Through secret passageways of velvet dusk
    Where dreams entwine with heartbreaking sighs
    The gaze of my heart will never falter
    Even when a desire bleeds and dies

    Striving to forget the bruises of love and devotion
    Still, my heart never ceases to beat
    Even amid the wildest storm of life
    It bleeds but rises from the ashes of sorrow

    My heart drifts through shadows, refusing to break
    Carrying the weight of memories yet still seeking passion
    Bound by the chains of the past, yearning only to fly
    My heart weeps beneath the moon, longing for release

    Nonetheless, the night holds me captive
    I became a prisoner of grief and anguish
    And each tear of mine is a dream lost in the cold and silent air
    As I seek consolation and solace that I cannot find

    I reach through the darkness, yearning to touch the stars
    But they gleam and vanish in the infinite sky
    While the night conceals its secrets, shrouded in despair
    Like the fleeting touch of a dream that never could become tangible

    A gelid breeze of illusions hits me
    Whispering me only cruel and fleeting promises
    Trying to chase them, I end up in the emptiness
    My endless pursuit is a vacant seizure

    My heart becomes a frail ship adrift in an ocean of delusions
    Trembling at each dark shadow towering over it like a giant wave
    I search for meaningful signs in the endless nights
    Although the stars don’t gleam anymore for me

    In this abyss of sorrow, I remain
    Finding no rest
    The gaze of my heart loses its sight
    And the echo of my distressed soul is suppressed for eternity.
    Elisabetta

  • The Agony Of Uncertainty

    The Agony Of Uncertainty

    The agony of uncertainty is my dwelling
    It was all I had written on a mirror
    A long sequence of characters
    Which I used to write
    And nothing further
    Forever and never
    I have been lost
    Striving to remember my name and my story
    Since I was born with a great devotion to art
    Such joy should be life
    Once everything has been forgotten with time

    The agony of uncertainty is a tree in the sea
    Where it is possible to be merry
    A moment has come to bear a perceived memory
    Like dreams repeatedly created and destroyed
    Each season and new year
    The time is past and never hides
    Torments are shortened by days and nights
    To avoid suffering and distress
    I might become pleased as I would pretend
    My past life never existed
    Becoming something imaginary

    The agony of uncertainty is a dark forest
    Where the wounds never disappear
    Only memories can unfold
    Looking onward and writing my dreams
    And all those unconcealed secrets
    That the soul keeps as the deepest memories
    The nightmares of the heart are lost in the dark
    The fate of dark stars is entwined in indifference
    The gloom of endless thoughts of sorrow
    Lost forever in a silent emptiness
    Which never dies

    The agony of uncertainty and pain
    Thereupon I move forward through the long desert of death
    Reaching more intention and joy
    My thoughts are made of fears
    Bleeding each time, I became wiser
    No hope was found in the devotion of love
    Instants of lust in the deepest silence
    Fretting about the decay of every bliss
    Dread should last forever in death
    When everything is lost
    The truth is the door of a new consciousness

    The agony of uncertainty and delight
    Always shining in an infinite reality
    My heart is truly sacred
    Beyond deception and mendacity
    Seeking the truth as an insight
    When no choice is granted
    The tears, like fright, lit the earth
    The grief within my soul is still alive
    I should not always be afraid
    Gifted with patience to keep
    My soul is bound to be naive.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Visions Of My Soul

    The Visions Of My Soul

    The visions of my soul strike my mind
    I never see to end of the motionless disheartenment
    In silence, I wait for a prolonged rain to end
    I know the world will not last forever
    In hope, I live a dreamless life made of disillusions
    Lies in the deepest darkness with no return at all
    Where everything is dim and the night is quiet
    The rising waves and the gloaming break me
    Surprise and wonder echoes seem to be heard from afar

    The visions of my soul fly like a rose
    They are born to face the earth’s fate
    I have learned how to dream
    A new life is present
    Every word is not a mystery
    It is the only way to be
    Unmindful and alone
    I have never known of all the rituals I dreamt
    No one should know

    The visions of my soul go back to the years and life’s past
    A long journey is waiting now for me
    A perfect existence to read
    Though I still enjoy thinking about perspectives
    I’m looking forward to each night with sadness
    Perhaps it has been written without rhymes
    I cannot always be concerned in ways far away too much longer to write
    A very different way to be in art
    I see words as they were assigned to me for the way I exist

    The visions of my soul have vanished in the sky
    And as the birds cease singing in their nest
    At twilight, my memories fade away
    My heart is close to the firmament and yet so free
    The dreams, the air, the sky, the sea, the trees and the earth help me to find myself
    I glimpse the bright clouds and the leaves flying down
    Whilst the stars gleam upon me
    I become free from those old and deceitful longings.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Waiting The Night

    Waiting The Night

    Waiting The Night

    Waiting the night with its dark awareness
    The fog descends, dimming the lights and colours
    Restless is my mind wandering in the abstraction
    A whirlpool of nightmares entraps me
    Bound with all disquiet and eagerness
    My mood swings like the several shades of the sky
    Infinite is the darkness keeping majestic secrets
    Hollow is my soul as I lose myself in the wilderness of sorrow
    More than ever, I can rely on my senses of chaos and fear
    Not at all aware of my blank destiny
    Hopes and dreams fade away at the sight of consciousness
    Life is abstractly away like a gleaming star in the universe
    I persist in becoming who I can be
    I persevere in fleeing my obligations and duties
    My soul is dark as the deepest night
    My mind is a victim of a cruel bewilderment
    Floating in the sea of the uncertainty
    I strive to survive, anchoring myself to the beauty of art.
    Esther Racah

  • In The Dimness Of My Dreams

    In The Dimness Of My Dreams

    In The Dimness Of My Dreams

    In the dimness of my dreams
    I can be free, and I find my own place
    A place which is mine and mine only
    A place that is inaccessible and secret
    In this utopia, I can lose all my fears
    And I don’t have to pretend to conform to any custom
    Because this illusory and concealed haven is in my mind
    The infinite shades of words and colours give form to unusual artworks
    In this hideout, I can create my art and poetry
    It gives me hope to enlight my life
    Obliterating every source of anguish
    Hence I let my strength be my guidance
    And I let my mind wander in the garden of the intuitions.
    Esther Racah

  • The Life Of Effie Gray Millais

    The Life Of Effie Gray Millais

    Effie Gray Millais’s life is the main subject of the book “Effie: The Passionate Lives of Effie Gray, John Ruskin and John Everett Millais” by Dr Suzanne Fagence Cooper. It is the ninth book in my second list of readings.

    The country side of Scotland where Effie Gray spent most of her life

    The Life of Effie Gray and John Ruskin

    This book is not a novel but a reconstruction of the life of Euphemia Chalmers Gray. The book starts on the cold morning of Tuesday, 25 April 1854, when Effie escapes her abusive marriage with the art critic John Ruskin. John reserved all his attention on art, not people. He was excessively attached to his parents’ house and his books. Nevertheless, John became a celebrity because of the book Modern Painters. Charlotte Brönte and Elizabeth Barrett Browning were very fond of his book. Effie ran away from an exhausting and unnatural relationship where her husband believed she was inadequate as a future mother. The Ruskin family thought that Effie was a wicked and reckless woman. Until 1857, only the Parliament could grant a divorce in Victorian England. As an ambitious wife, Effie wished to promote her husband’s career. 

    The New Life of Effie

    Effie’s life was challenging because of the oppressive social traditions and her loveless marriage with Mr Ruskin. Sadly, in the Victorian era, women could not vote, own properties, or take legal action against someone. Moreover, a wife had no ownership of her clothes and jewelry. Most women could not leave their marital house even when mistreated and abused, mainly because of the lack of financial support. In case a woman was leaving her husband, he could take her home against her will and might rape her with impunity. After six years of a distressing relationship, the Ecclesiastical Courts decided to annul the marriage because Effie and Mr Ruskin never consummate their relationship. After resting in her parent’s house, Effie married the painter John Everett Millais.

    A Portrait of Effie Gray

    Effie was a beautiful Scottish girl with auburn hair, entertaining and elegant, with many admirers even after her marriage to John Ruskin. Mr Ruskin was not concerned, having lost interest in his wife. Since her youth, Euphemia was attentive to her clothes, taking care of every detail. Effie was a determined woman with an independent spirit. She wrote several letters to her parents with rapid handwriting, giving a glimpse of sixteen years of Victorian life. Effie had witnessed events, but this woman changed the idea of Victorian femininity. She regained control of her life, refusing to bear a physically and emotionally abusive relationship. Euphemia did not fit in the Victorian standard of a fragile woman. Indeed, as a well-educated girl, she was fluent in French, a quick learner, and a piano player. She enjoyed riding and dancing and was far from the delicate Victorian femininity.

    A Portrait Of John Ruskin

    When John met Effie for the first time, she was twelve, and he was fond of her. As she grew up, he appreciated her wit and beauty. Before meeting Effie, John had been fascinated with a young girl “fresh from convent school.” Mr. Ruskin generally loved innocent young girls “on the verge of womanhood.” This side of John could be why he could not consummate his marriage with Effie because she was nineteen then. He found that Effie aging had lost her original good look and considered her too old to be desirable. John Ruskin was a “damaged genius” who elicited admiration from many notorious personages. John captivated Effie’s attention because he was improving her mind with books and pictures. However, during their engagement, John demands Effie learn how to be disciplined, fulfill all his desires, and please him. He asked her to improve her French and study Italian and botany to help him with his research. However, John Ruskin was sensible and passionate about arts, nature, and beauty, even though he ignored Effie’s needs.

    A Portrait Of John Everett Millais

    Everett Millais started his studies at the Royal Academy when he was eleven. He became part of the Pre-Raphaelite movement, which aimed to return to the Quattrocento Italian art. They were not interested in the conventional beauty of Renaissance art, such as the one portrayed in Raphael’s paintings. They wanted to connect to nature; natural details were not missing in Millais’s paintings. He portrayed Effie, focusing on her character strength, determination, and emotional struggle rather than her beauty. In that period, he fell in love with Effie, even though she was still John Ruskin’s wife. Everett knew the secret behind her marriage with Mr Ruskin.

    Effie And Everett Millais

    In 1855, Effie and Everett married, and they had several children living a happy marriage. Starting in 1870, Everett became one of Victorian England’s most prominent and wealthy painters, and Effie managed the social relationships. She supported and encouraged his career, organizing parties where patrons commissioned portraits. Effie was excellent in social life, meeting a lot of actors, nobility, painters, and artists. Nevertheless, her first marriage damaged her reputation. Indeed, even the Queen refused to receive her at Court because most people unfairly considered Effie as the wife of another man still living or a divorced woman. Effie and Everett had eight children. Everett Millais, who belonged to the Pre-Raphaelite artistic group, adopted a looser and hazy brushwork years after marriage. Unlike the other painters, he looked more like a well-dressed and handsome businessman. 

    The Busy Life Of Effie And Everett

    During her marriage with Mr Ruskin, Effie had to pretend the fiction of a “normal” marriage. While she was arranging teas, she was exhausted. On the contrary, she could fulfill her dream of a happily married mother after marrying Everett Millais. Euphemia managed the household, being a brilliant hostess of crowded evenings with international celebrities. She gave birth to eight children, who followed different paths. Even if Everett’s works were in great demand, the Pre-Raphaelites distanced themselves from his art as soon as he married Effie. He became the wealthiest painter, and his art portrayed moods and characters. Unlike the other artists, “Everett did not conform to the image of an artistic rebel.” His acquaintances and friends described him as a “boyish, jolly, straightforward and true Anglosaxon.”

    The Social Life Of Effie And Family Travels 

    Effie had good social communication skills and knew how to negotiate with patrons. In 1877, the Millais family moved to a mansion in Palace Gate, where Everett’s big studio was always full of patrons, friends, nobility, and celebrities. Now, the guests could enjoy his paintings cozily. Behind this beautiful facade, Effie suffered because of her past marriage with Mr Ruskin. Indeed, many people called her “the wife of two men”; hence, Queen Victoria refused to receive her because of Palace protocols. Since Effie was John Ruskin’s wife, she visited Paris and Venice. Furthermore, even after her marriage to Everett, she continued to travel with her children in Europe. Since the mid-1860s, her brothers George and John emigrated to Australia, and her son Evie also went to Australia. Later, one of Effie’s daughters, Mary Millais, sailed for Australia and New Zealand. During her visit to Sidney, Mary could admire one of his father’s paintings, The Captive. Mary’s next trip was to Melbourne, where part of Everett’s family lived.

    The Tower of London, city where the life of Effie Gray changed

    Effie And the Suffragism

    While some of Effie’s children were abroad (Mary in Australia, Geoffroy in Wyoming, and Evie in Paris), she continued to divide her time between her household and Everett’s studio’s management. Meanwhile, her youngest daughter, Tottie, was influenced by Louise Jopling, a great advocate for women’s education. In 1887, Louise founded her art school for girls and signed a petition to let women vote. Suffragists advocated for equal electoral rights to elect a Member of Parliament who would represent their interests. In 1885, the foundation of a ladies’ wing of the Primrose League was established. Moreover, after Everett’s baronetcy, Effie became Dame of the League. Tottie Millais followed the New Women’s movement, a group of young women with high education who lived independently, smoking and wearing masculine clothes. These “Manly Women” with short hair strolled with their dog and a walking stick. Victorian society considered this behavior as transgressive sexuality. However, even after the Matrimonial Causes Act’s approval in 1857, men kept their power in conjugal life.

    The Last Period Of Everett and Effie’s Lives

    Everett used his motto, “Ars Longa, Vita Brevis,” mostly after the death of their son George and their granddaughter Phyllis. Effie had the merit to contribute to transforming a bigot Victorian society. She stood against the conventions, refusing an abusive marriage. She showed how a woman could be in control of her life. Nevertheless, slander and false rumors were against her. Another tragedy happened in their life of Effie the death of her younger sister, Sophie Gray. Several times, Sophie modeled for Everett because of her extraordinary beauty and her patience while modeling. A controversial painting is her 1857 portrait, where Everett emphasized her sensuality and beauty. She died of anorexia and depression. It is not clear what her relationship with Everett Millais was; it could be that Sophie was in love with him. At the age of sixty-six, Effie lost her mother, Sophia Gray, and with age, she became blind with general soreness.

    Westminster Abbey, architecture, England, Gothic church, Gothic style, London, where Effie Gray spent part of her life

    The Deaths Of Everett and Effie Millais

    In 1885, Everett became a baronet; in 1896, he became President of the Royal Academy. Sadly, he had throat cancer, and while he was dying, the Queen finally received Effie as Lady Millais. After Everett’s death, Effie retired with her brother George at Bowerswell, at her late parents’ house. After her eldest son, Evie, died from pneumonia at the age of sixty-nine, in 1897, Lady Effie Millais died of bowel cancer. “Effie: The Passionate Lives of Effie Gray, John Ruskin, and John Everett Millais” is a beautiful book that gives a perspective of the Victorian era from an artistic and social perspective. I have read the digital edition of this book, and you can also find the audiobook

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.