
Nicholas Mynheer
Beggar's Roost
4 Ventfield Cottages
Horton-cum-Studley
Oxford UK
OX33 1AP
01865 351340
ndm@mynheer-art.co.uk
site: creativeedge
7th September:
Working flat out now on the new chapel window for Abingdon School; new glass screen (two storey high) for Islip Church and the sculpted Aumbry for Iffley Church. It's an extraordinary coincidence that they're all Oxfordshire based projects. It's nice to be back in the UK again. I've been in Switzerland and France over the last two months, working on project drawings as well as cycling l'etape du tour in the Pyrenees on 18th July (along with another 10,000 cyclists). It's not really ideal working on three huge projects at the same time but when the glass drawings go to Daedalian (the glass studio) I'll feel just slightly less pressured.
8th June:
I'm taking part in an exhibition at 'Wallspace' All Hallows on the Wall, London from 23 June until 16th July. Entitled 'THE COLLECTION' , the exhibition is a selection of works from the extraordinary Methodist collection of modern and contemporary Art. This will be the first opportunity to see works newly acquired for the Methodist collection. It includes work by Craigie Aitchison, Edward Burra, Elizabeth Frink, Mark Cazalet, Eric Gill, Ghislaine Howard, Peter Howson, Nicholas Mynheer, Roger Wagner, Georges Roualt, FN Souza, Graham Sutherland, Norman Adams and David Jones among others. Details about the exhibition are in my EXHIBITION section. I plan to be there on Thursday 1st July to talk briefly about having a piece of work in the collection.
4th April - Easter Day
For the painting 'The Empty Tomb' from the Sarum Cycle this accompanying text:
Just after sunrise, the women return to the tomb in order to anoint the body of Christ. The huge tomb stone has been rolled away and the body of Christ has gone. Two angels 'in cloths that gleamed like lightning'' sitting in the tomb say to them, ' Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here! He has risen!''
The intense light from the angels is the light source of the painting. It even lights up the sky itself but it is all the reflected glory of God.
'Praise, O servants of the Lord,
praise the name of the Lord.
let the name of the Lord be praised,
both now and for evermore.
From the rising of the sun to the place
where it sets,
the name of the Lord is to be praised.' Psalm 113 v.1-3
3rd April - Holy Saturday
For the painting, 'The Stillness' from The Sarum cycle I wrote this accompanying text:
An empty landscape with a wintry sky. Jesus sleeps in the earth. All in still. An old tree at first appearing dead can be seen to sprout a new green leaf; the promise of new life, of resurrection.
For me the day between Good Friday and Easter day is a strange unearthly day, hardly a day at all, a sort of noon, neither morning or afternoon. It seems to be a fulcrum on which balances hope or despair; a strange state of limbo with the balance wavering between life and death before it gently tips over into Easter. Once again we breathe a sigh of relief. the world is born anew.
'We wait in hope for the Lord;
he is our help and our shield.
In him our hearts rejoice,
for we trust in his holy name.
May your unfailing love rest upon us, O
Lord,
even as we put our hope in you.' Psalm 33 v.20-22
2nd April - Good Friday:
For the painting'The Road to Calvary' from the Sarum Cycle I wrote this accompanying text:
Jerusalem, having sucked Jesus in, now disgorges him. A man, still holding a palm frond from the day Jesus entered Jerusalem, carries Jesus' colt over his shoulder like a toy.
Men with muscular forearms carry out the tools necessary for crucifixion; a ladder, a hammer and nails. Simon of Cyrene is seen next to Jesus, about to help Jesus carry the crossbar.
As in 'The Entry into Jerusalem' we almost miss Jesus as our eyes are drawn to the ferocity of the central figure. For many of these men this is just another crucifixion, a daily occurence, just another sentence being carried out.
'But when I stumbled, they gathered in
glee;
attackers gathered against me when I
was unaware.
They slandered me without ceasing.
Like the ungodly they mailciously
mocked;
they gnashed their teeth at me.' Psalm 35 v.15-16
1st April (Maundy Thursday):
For the painting of The Last Supper (in my Sarum Cycle gallery) I wrote this accompanying text:
Jesus and his disciples sit around a table in an upper room, encircled by a vine and lit by oil lamps. The disciples talk in groups, unaware of what the night will bring.
Those nearest to Jesus watch as he breaks the loaf of bread. A simple leaden coloured chalice holds red wine.
The night is clear and starry, the palm trees motionless in the warm night air.
' Let them give thanks to the Lord for his
unfailing love
and his wonderful deeds for men,
for he satisfies the thirsty
and fills the hungry with good
things.' Psalm 107 v. 8-9
31st March:
Last night saw the final Queen's College Lenten meditation evening of Art and Music. The final section of Simon Whalley's extraordinary 'Christus' was performed. It is an incredibly powerful piece. In no sense are you merely a 'listener'; you become part of the music. It is the singers, the musicians and us the 'audience' who betray Christ, us who cry 'Crucify Him', us who nail him to the cross but it is to us that he bowes his head from the cross.
Roger Wagner's 'Flowering Tree (painting) was exhibited on one side of the chapel and my 'Corpus of Christ' on the other. Roger's small oil study is very beautiful indeed, a sort of Flowering Rood; brightly coloured and exquisite.
I wrapped the head of my sculpture of Christ with brambles cut from my garden. It seemed somehow very symbollic standing on a chair at the front of the chapel binding the viscious thorns around his head. This was the culmination of over a months carving, hoisted up high onto its plinth in front of the Sanhedrin (as they sat waiting for the concert) my hands spotted with specks of blood from fitting the crown of thorns.
Palm Sunday - 28th March:
This is the text that I wrote to accompany the painting,'The Entry into Jerusalem', the first picture on my Sarum Cycle gallery. It was painted and written for this very day:
In a maelstrom of swirling humanity Jerusalem sucks in another prophet. The buildings, the people and the very landscape are all involved in the event; together they shout, 'Hosanna in the Highest, Blessed is he that comes in the name of the Lord'.
Amongst the spinning colours we have to look hard to see the supposed reason for their celebration; the small insigificant barely noticed figure of Jesus sitting on a humble colt.
The palm waving crowd do not look at Jesus for he is merely another prophet; the reason for celebration is no longer as important as the celebration itself. Only Zacchaeus looks down from the tree with interest. Zacchaeus is often found in depictions of The Entry into Jerusalem even though in the gospels he appears elsewhere. What matters is not when he climbed the tree to see Jesus; only that he did!
'Lift up your heads, O you gates;
lift them up, you ancient doors,
that the King of Glory may come in.' Psalm 24 v.9
19th March:
I've always loved that Hymn, 'Jesus Christ the Apple Tree'. It was only recently that I discovered that it's actually only 19thc or early 20thc; I'd always assumed that it was medieval. I've painted it a couple of times and designed a glass version (never produced) and I was thinking about that theme when I came across a wonderful poem by Christina Rossetti entitled 'As the Apple Tree among the trees of the wood'. It made me think of Christ in the wilderness. -
As one red rose in a garden where all other
roses are white
Blossoms alone in its glory, crowned all alone
In a solitude of own sweetness and fragrance of
own delight,
With loveliness not another's and thorns its own;
As one ruddy sun amid million orbs comely and
colourless,
Among all others, above all others is known;
As it were alone in the garden, alone in the
heavenly place,
Chief and centre of all, in fellowship yet alone.
17th March (St Patrick's Day):
Last night in The Queen's College Chapel, Oxford I listened to the second part of Simon Whalley's extraordinary 'Christus'. It is one of those rare works where the words and music are one; where Holy Scripture is not seperate from music but the same thing. I always think Finzi's setting of 'Dies Natalis' and the 'Salutation' are like that; you cannot imagine the words without the music. Last nights section started with the Last Supper and the agonisingly painful questioning by the disciples of who will betray Christ and ran through to the equally painful denial by Peter (and his betrayal of Jesus). Perhaps Simon Whalley has a particular interest in Betrayal; I remember a most astonishing operetta(?) that he wrote years ago for the Christ Church Cathedral School (Oxford) based on the betrayal of King Arthur. I feel privileged to be hearing this work week by week for its first time. The week after next, when Roger Wagner and I exhibit our work, the work culminates in The Crucifixion. I look forward to it with huge excitement but also absolute dread.
Jane Dowling exhibited her wonderfully intimate 'Betrayal of Christ' painting alongside the music last night. She is a towering artist. Viewing her painting (nearly always in tempera) is like looking into a crystal clear rock pool, with layers and layers of overlapping colours that seem to move before your eyes.
15th March:
Went to Roger Wagner's exhibition last night in the Ashmoleum museum. It was really for the formal receiving in of his 'Mennorah' painting into the museum collection (although it will after the next fortnight) return to its usual hanging place in St Gile's Church, Oxford. A splendid exhibition that really is worth seeing . His work has a mystical quality a bit like Samuel Palmer's in some ways but as Richard Harries said in his brief but excellent speech, Roger has the ability to create images that remain with you. It was also great to catch up with many artist friends and colleagues.
12th March:
Finally finished both sculptures I've been working on - The 'Corpus of Christ' (which will be exhibited on Tuesday 30th March at The Queen's College chapel, Oxford) and 'Simon and Jesus' which will be exhibited at the Stillpoint Stations of the Cross exhibition (26th March onwards). The details of these two events are listed in the Exhibition section.
I've put these two newest sculptures on my Sculpture page (top right two thumbnails). It's a great relief to get them finished even though I thoroughly enjoyed carving them. The last 4 or 5 weeks have certainly been cold working outside!
Carving this sculpture of Simon of Cyrene helping Christ carry the cross has refired in my mind the idea of producing a series of sculptures based on The Passion of Christ (a little like my Sarum Cycle of paintings - which incidentally look like they'll be going to Norwich Cathedral for Lent and Easter 2011). It's a huge committment, timewise, though which I will have to fit in between the commissioned projects but it's an exciting idea.
10th March:
Last night was the first of The Queen's College Lenten meditation evenings of Art and Music. The artists Alison Lilley Berrett and Tim Steward provided very strong works that looked stunning in the chapel. The composer Simon Whalley conducted the first performance of his 'Christus-the Passion according to St. Mark'. It was breathtaking; quite extraordinary. We were transported to The Mount of Olives...you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife....utterly spellbinding. Words, Art and Music intertwined with the Love of God.
4th March:
Spent the day outside working on the sculpture 'Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus carry the Cross' (I think I'll call it Simon & Jesus). I've never really spent so much time with Simon of Cyrene before. We are told in the gospels that Simon was 'forced' to carry Jesus' cross. Jesus, on the other hand, willingly accepted the cross. St. Mark tells us that Simon was the father of Alexander and Rufus (in a way that suggests that they were known to his readers - perhaps early christians?). What interests me though is the fact that Simon was a father. Could it have been that Simon's own sons were the same age as Jesus? What dark thoughts must have been going through his head as he shared the burden of the cross?
By carrying Jesus' cross Simon carries Christ himself, recalling the words, ' What you did for the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me'.
In my sculpture the two figures and the crossbar become one; they become the cross itself, the very symbol of redemption.
3rd March:
I've just loaded the new 'Corpus of Christ' sculpture onto my Sculpture gallery. I'm not sure it's entirely finished but it's quite nice to give things a breathing space. After a few days or so you generally know if you have any more to do to it.
As I photographed it in the late afternoon sunshine a cloud of gnats swarmed directly over Chist's head in a perfect circle. It was very strange; nature responding to the image of its creator and making a perfect halo!
This time of year, what I really look forward to is the change in the air that marks the coming of Spring. Every year there is a particular moment when I suddenly feel the change. It's difficult to explain what it is exactly as it's not gradual but instantaneous and very definate and brings with it ecstatic joy. It hasn't happened yet although the sudden change from bitter cold to more mld temperatures and sun have given the appearance of the arrival of Spring. Even though a crocus has blossomed in my garden and the daffodils are on their way through I haven't felt 'the change' yet. I suppose working outside so much of the time makes one very sensitive to any change in light and possibly pressure change.
The next thing I look forward to every year is the call of the Cuckoo. When I first hear that (usually) distant call my heart leaps with unlimited joy. The call of the cuckoo symbolises the start of summer and the promise of warmth and light. It is for me a symbol of Hope.
23rd February:
Working flat out at the moment on my 'Corpus of Christ' for the Queen's College series of Lenten meditations that start on the 9th March and run on consecutive Tuesdays until the 30th March (the evening Roger Wagner and I exhibit our pieces).
I'm also really looking forward to working on a sculpture of Simon of Cyrene helping Christ for another exhibition in Oxford. This looks like it will be a very exciting exhibition - 14 Oxfordshire artists will each produce one Station of the Cross (or their particular response to that Station). This will be the 2nd StillPoint Stations of The Cross exhibition to be held at The Jam Factory, Hollybush row, Oxford. It will run from March 26th until April 20th. find more details at: www.thestillpoint.org.uk
20th February:
I've just loaded a new painting onto the Painting gallery. It's the second in The Grail series. Here we see Abraham entertaining The Angels. But rather than serving them a meal of milk, meat and bread (Genesis 18) Abraham serves them bread and wine - a eucharistic meal.
The composition of the painting is similar to the glass version I designed for The Trinity window, Abingdon School. I often re-use a particular composition if I like it. Sometimes having sketched or painted it I realise that it would work equally well in stone. All my sketched ideas for paintings, glass or sculpture are done in a numbered series of sketch books. Often when I'm working on a design I recall a group of figures or perhaps a section of landscape that I'd drawn (perhaps years earlier) that seems finally to have found a use.
I'm sure that this particular design relates to Rublev's Old Testament Trinity icon; certainly it has a similar composition. I like the idea that the Angels are physically there with Abraham yet at the same time they seem distant, otherworldly.
12th February:
This is a busy time for me at the moment. I'm presently trying to design a hanging sculpture (for a church); in the process of drawing up a sculpture design for another; waiting to hear back about a large window design; working on two small paintings (in odd moments) as well as carving a corpus of Christ (for the Queen's College exhibition in Lent -see notice in Exhibition section). When that sculpture's finished I have to produce another (of Simon of Cyrene helping Christ carry the cross) for an exhibition based on the Stations of The Cross. Alongside these projects I'm waiting on a number of other projects (both here in UK and for a new church in the Gulf State of Qatar).
Yesterday I spent most of the day working outside on the stone figure of Christ. It was a largely bright day but only about 3 degrees with a biting wind. Sometimes producing art is really hard. Stone sculpture is often physically demanding but some days working out in the open it is brutal. There seemed something bizarely appropriate about the discomfort of the situation; hammer and chisel in hand working on the twisted crucified body whilst the cutting NE wind blasted the face. The strange thing is that whenever I carve a sculpture of the crucified body of Christ it is beauty that seems to come out of it. Perhaps it is the same beauty that I see when I look at some early medieval carvings of the crucifixion. There is no denial of pain, far from it, but there is often a deep beauty in the suffering - a suffering that I can often feel through my chisel as the hand follows the shape of the face or carves the curves of the ribcage. The carving of the eyes and the wounds always seems deeply intimate; at one time hammering the very chisel through Christ's hand into the cross while at the same time caressing the wounds with the tender doubt of St Thomas.
6th February:
I've just started carving a block of English Limestone into a Corpus of Christ. This will be for the Queen's College Lenten series of music and art meditations in Oxford. The brilliant composer Simon Whalley is producing a piece based on The Passion of Christ and this Corpus will accompany one of the movements.
The way I work generally is more reductive than building up. We always think of creativity as being a sort of building up, of adding, but for me it is much more a case of cutting away - of reduction. I like the idea of cutting directly into stone. There is no going back, no putting back. A surgeon friend once said to me, 'What we do is the same - think twice and cut once'
Even when I paint I think of the process as reductive. I start with pencil designs reducing superfluous detail, simplifying and stylising until I feel ready to paint The whole process is one of paring down - of trying to see what really matters; a skill I haven't managed to apply to the rest of my life!
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1st February: I'm often asked how I get my ideas for a work and how I start a painting or sculpture. Occasionally I will see the finished work in my head then all I have to do is paint it or cut away the stone to release it. Unfortunately it doesn't work that way very often. Usually I have an idea for a theme (or one is suggested in a commission) and I sit for hours or days with pencil in hand doodling away until the idea develops. Sometimes it's only when a work is finished that I start to see what it represents. The painting entitled Flight to Egypt (in the Painting section) that shows a circle of angels floating above the Holy Family (in the lower left of the painting) is a case in point. It started with the idea of a family travelling through a wintry landscape with the angelic host above. I had the idea of the angels moving along with the family protecting them (though unnoticed by the family). Originally I had orange yellow light reflected on the snow from the angels but then I decided that this tied the two worlds together in too much of an earthly way so painted the bright highlights out. It was only after I had finished the picture that I noticed the juxtaposition of the trees; the (apparently) dead barren trees in the blue landscape and the vibrant Tree of Life (or Knowledge) amongst the angels above. I had produced the image with no particular idea of what the elements represented or indeed how they related to each other yet when the image was finished the relationship between the protected Garden of Eden (after 'the fall') and the start of Christ's life and eventual making good 'the fall' seemed obvious. 25th January: I was thinking about my earlier blog entry about the different ways of 'seeing' things and it occured to me that so much of how I perceive the world has been informed by my childhood. Unlike many artists it seems that I had an unfashionably happy childhood. I recall the day, as a young boy, probably aged about ten, walking down the footpath next to the river Thames in Oxford when I realised that by looking through the glimmering reflections on the water's surface I could see the fish beneath - a sudden breaking through of an artificial barrier. It became a passion of mine to instruct adults on how to be able to see past the silver reflections and to see the world which they served to hide. I often think that life as a whole is like a highly reflective surface in which we see ourselves and everything around all too clearly and God, often, not so clearly. St. Luke says, 'Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then shall we see face to face.' Perhaps it is then, that as an artist, I still endeavour to see past those reflections.
18th January: A little Robin sits outside my studio window and cocks his head. Often when I see a Robin my mind goes back to my childhood and the Nursery rhyme 'Who killed Cock Robin'. The thought of it still sends shivers down my spine; as a child this nursery rhyme haunted me. Somehow the death of Cock Robin seemed to matter. Does he represent William Rufus? Are there connections with the ancient tradition of hunting and killing a wren then charging a penny to 'see the dead king'? He seemed to me a Christ-like figure or perhaps as a child both Christ and Cock Robin were of equal significance. Whatever, his death mattered to me as it clearly also did to the Fly, the Fish, the Beetle, the Owl, the Rook, the Lark, the Dove, the Wrens, the Thrush and the Bull!
15th January: I've just added an image of The Green Man in winter to the Sculpture gallery. This was a block of English Limestone set in the corner of my studio wall. One day, when I should have working on something else, I decided to carve this Foliate head directly into the stone. The figure of The Green Man has always fascinated me. As a small child (before the days of double glazing) I saw faces peering at me through the foliate patterns on frosted windows. As a schoolboy The Green Knight captivated me in Gawain and The Green Knight. Sometimes people express surprise (and even disapproval) when they see me carving a Green Man as if somehow The Green Man represents something sinister. For me it is very clear; the Green Man represents God in Nature, irrepressible life and Man's relationship with the Earth, with the environment. Afterall we are not seperate from the world but rather part of it. We are made of the same building blocks that the rest of Nature is. In the Old Testament the prophet Isaiah says: 'Look unto the rock whence ye are hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence ye are digged.' The Green Man is the personification of the changing seasons, dying in Winter to be reborn in the Spring. He stands for the ebb and flow of life, death and resurrection. Many argue that his appearance in churches and cathedrals is the result of the church's attempt to make safe those elements of paganism that it failed to stamp out. I think it more likely that it was the combination of the Green Man being a recognised motif of rebirth and the fact that the average medieval wood or stone carver might well have had more understanding of their relationship to Nature than the educated clergy did!
13th January: Snow continues to gently fall. I love the silence that you get with heavy snow. The hawthorn hedge that borders my studio appears so different with its white covering . The thick twisted stems of old growth are highlighted by the layer of snow emphasising the way the hedge was laid. It's wonderful how a change of light or a dusting of snow re-presents things so that you see them with fresh eyes; often seeing the beauty that was always there but taken for granted. I remember some years ago, looking at this hedge whilst listening to Jonathan Harvey's 'Madonna of the Spring' (I think it's called) and seeing clearly in the depths of the branches the Virgin herself holding the Christ child. I'm sure that on the odd occasion when I have seen such things it is me projecting the idea. I recall as a teenager sitting in the back of my father's car as we drove past the old Pressed Steel Fisher factory with its two huge brick chimneys and telling my friends about the time I had seen a Spitfire (aeroplane) flying between the chimneys. I could see the plane as if it had been yesterday. My father informed me afterwards that it had not been me that had seen it but him! Clearly his telling me the story at some point had been sufficient to burn the image into my mind. From that moment on I realised that there were many ways of 'seeing' things.
12th January: I've just returned from the French Alps to find Oxfordshire under thick snow. A pile of (what I had previously considered Pale) English limestone looks positively ochre under its blanket of white snow. The sky is almost the same colour as the landscape, with perhaps just the merest touch of Payne's grey to seperate it. I've started to work again on a number of church commissions that I started last year: a design for a large fused glass window; a stone sculpted Aumbry for a most wonderful Romanesque church and a number of other projects. Generally the church commissions take about two years from the initial sketches until installation. This is due to the various committees that have to consider them: PCC's, DAC's, Church Building Council, Victorian Society, English Heritage etc. It all might seem a little long winded but it does (generally) mean that when a work is eventually installed everyone (and their dog) has been duly consulted. Overall I think that the process works; afterall work installed in a church or cathedral setting is usually going to be there a long time! What also keeps my head up is that I truly believe that no work is ever wasted. Time spent on a particular project that eventually fails to proceed through lack of funding or committee decisions/politics has usually produced designs that can be re-used or re-developed for something else. Through this design process one's own faith is developed as well; realisations and perhaps insight seem to come to me more through the marks of my own pencil than any other means.
30th December: I've just started work on a series of small oil on paper paintings based on the theme of The Chalice. The first one completed is 'The Cup of Suffering' (which I've just added to The Painting Gallery). The theme of the cup of suffering is one that I find myself returning to time and again. Often I paint Jesus with his hands in a gesture that can be read either as acceptance of the cup or indeed reticence - for his human nature recoils from what the chalice will bring. In this new work his hands are placed in such a way that he seems to contemplate the cup and offers it to us too. His disciples are behind him in amongst the trees. Jesus feels utterly alone - only Nature responds to his presence; the trees, lit up by the radiance of the chalice, enfold him protectively and the night sky opens revealing the stars. The way to Heaven is made clear for him.
29th December: I love this time between Christmas and the New Year; it is a sort of limbo, a time of stillness and waiting for the New Year to start and Epiphany. For some this is not the case as they've already had to return to work but for many of us the old Twelve Days of Christmas seem to be turning back into the holiday that they were in the distant past. I like the poetry of Christina Rossetti very much. The last stanza of her Epiphany came to mind this morning - Myrrh, frankincense, and gold: And lo! from wintry fold Good-will doth bring A Lamb, the innocent likeness of this King Whom stars and seraphs sing: And lo! the bird of love, a Dove Flutters and coos above: And Dove and Lamb and Babe agree in love:- Come all mankind, come all creation hither, Come, worship Christ together.
Christmas Day Spinks and ouzles sing sublimely, 'We too have a Saviour born,' Whiter blossoms burst untimely On the blest Mosaic thorn. from The Nativity of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ by Christopher Smart
16th December: It's very cold in Oxfordshire. The sky is Payne's grey in colour and through the sound of fine sleet against my studio windows I just heard a Blackbird singing. I immediately thought of that wonderful poem by Thomas Hardy The Darkling Thrush. I read somewhere that Hardy meant this to be a metaphor for the close of the 19th century and the Thrush (thought by many to represent the aged Hardy himself) heralds the century to come. Hardy of course is entitled to his own opinion but the beauty of Art, whether literature or painting or music, is that the reader, viewer, listener responds in their own way. Just because an artist produced something doesn't mean they know everything about it. The viewer's response is often more profound than the artist's (as I've so often found with my own work). For me the Thrush, despite his age and the weather, sings to glorify God. The hope that is mentioned in the last stanza is the hope of new life to come in the changing seasons and the hope of resurrection. The Darkling Thrushby Thomas Hardy
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| I leant upon a coppice gate |
| When Frost was spectre-gray, |
| And Winter’s dregs made desolate |
| The weakening eye of day. |
| The tangled bine-stems scored the sky |
| Like strings of broken lyres, |
| And all mankind that haunted nigh |
| Had sought their household fires. |
| The land’s sharp features seemed to be |
| The Century’s corpse outleant, |
| His crypt the cloudy canopy, |
| The wind his death-lament. |
| The ancient pulse of germ and birth |
| Was shrunken hard and dry, |
| And every spirit upon earth |
| Seemed fervourless as I. |
| At once a voice arose among |
| The bleak twigs overhead |
| In a full-hearted evensong |
| Of joy illimited ; |
| An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, |
| In blast-beruffled plume, |
| Had chosen thus to fling his soul |
| Upon the growing gloom. |
| So little cause for carolings |
| Of such ecstatic sound |
| Was written on terrestrial things |
| Afar or nigh around, |
| That I could think there trembled through |
| His happy good-night air |
| Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew |
| And I was unaware. |
Dec 11th ( I think) - It's worth having a Blog just to be able to advertise the poetry of Christopher Smart (1722-1771). If you don't know his work check it out. I discovered his work 10or 15 years ago and I feel called back to it constantly. I think the last verse of his The Nativity of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ shows his genius -
'God all-bounteous, all-creative,
Whom no ills from good dissuade,
Is incarnate, and a native
Of the very world he made.''
Sublime!!
Dec 9th 2009 - Finally I have a new website. Thanks very much to Creative Edge for designing and building it. I hope you enjoy it. Any feedback or comments most welcome.