3 February 2022: February Begins, Getting Brighter All the Time
These cold fresh mornings are getting brighter and my daily journey down through the woods to the railway station has the trees lit up in early light.
We are in theory now halfway from winter solstice to spring equinox.
Sarah Gillespie Sempiternal Mezzotint Ed.of 20 Diam 38 cm. 50 x 50 cm. incl. frame
Frost is gradually warmed off the branches and mist crawls round by the railway line towards Freshford…
It’s all very Mary Oliver-ish…..
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
When I am among the Trees
Stewart Edmondson loves trees and paints them in situ, crossing moorland, his beloved River Dart, or climbing escarpments (and on occasion falling into the sea) to get closer to his subject matter. His show opens on the last Saturday in February….
Big Rock, River Dart Acrylic on Paper 85 x 97cm. 105 x 117cm incl. frame
Like the changing light little clumps of snowdrops are out and look so fragile and innocent.
Not so to poet J B Pick:
Snowdrops are not innocent:
They fight for what they win.
Beauty’s what comes out:
Blind energy goes in.
Low in the sky the light streams into the upstairs rooms in the gallery, lighting up this gorgeous Olen Hsu ewer:
Ewer in celadon glaze Wheel-thrown porcelain 18 x 13 x 15 cm.
And finally, another painting from Stewart’s forthcoming show, and more words to go back to from time to time.
The Brightness on the Other Side Acrylic on Paper 60 x 98 cm. 80 x 118 incl. frame
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Wendell Berry The Peace of Wild Things
Thank you for reading,
Beaux Arts Bath