Claire Austin: myrrh scent, repeat flowering, late afternoon sun.
Poets, writers, mythical tales have used the rose as symbol of many things – a single red rose, a white rose, peace, remembrance, love, blood, war, passion. I use Louis Macneice’s poem, ‘SNOW’ to accompany my photographs. I love the way he expands a simple and diverse image into a world of everything.
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.
World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkeness of things being various.
And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes –
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of your hands –
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.
Louis Macneice – 1907 – 1963, Irish poet and playwright
IN CONTRAST . . .
William Blake: 1757 – 1827; Painter, Poet, Printmaker.
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