please also see the link to Jude Walton’s web site.
Lhasa de Sela, What Kind of Heart
Eight black Shetland ponies in a white field, in pairs.
Jean Follain, Speech Alone
‘For my part I know nothing with any certainty … but the sight of the stars makes me dream.’ (Van Gogh)
Sanna Kurki-Suonio, Vaskilintu
Old Holland Vine Black watercolour pigment
Max Picard, The World of Silence
Jean Sibelius, Malinconia
‘Things to be blasted’ – Gerede
‘In my childhood is born a childhood burning like alcohol / I would sit down in the paths of the night / I would listen to the discourse of the stars / And that of the tree. / Now indifference snows in the evening of my soul.’ (Huidobro)
Dedication: History & Locality
‘Less the childhood, more the place / and the childhood of the place;
and through the childhood of the place / the present: the present people.’
‘A gentleman having to come to Dundee from Abernyte in the morning took a snow-plough, to which four horses were attached to clear his way but came to a part of the road where the snow lay ten feet deep. He was compelled to give up the attempt to clear the road and had to seek a way through the fields to Inchture.’ (5 March, 1881)
Black Shetland ponies.
Fire — most especially, fire butane gas portable cabinet heaters.
James Merrill| A Vision Of A Garden, in ‘Water Street’ (Atheneum, 1962)
Marie Howe| The Snow Storm, in ‘The Kingdom of Ordinary Time’ (W.W.Norton, 2008)
Rebecca Watts| The Cult of the Noble Amateur (PN Review 239, Volume 44 Number 3, January – February 2018.)
Sheila Legge| I Have Done My Best for You, in ‘Contemporary Poetry and Prose #8’ (Roughton, 1936)
‘I was a child, I did not know / That what I longed for would resist / Neither what cold lines should my finger trace / On colder grounds before I found anew / In yours the features of that face / Whose words whose looks alone undo / Such frosts I lay me down in love in fear.’ (Merrill)
Tinsel – like a rag of plastic caught in the branch of a tree – but purple, and green.
Vasily Grossman| Everything Flows (Vintage, 2011)
Water — from mountain streams running snow melt.
‘This quote was in the article from the Adventure Syndicate about their Puffer with the 4 school girls, loved it and thought it applied to us too at a certain time in the morning … ‘But keep inching forward and nothing stays the same. The sun always comes up in the end, casting aside the fears and doubts felt in the darkness.’
The posts are made of clay. This post is sleeping under some cloth a section of the true cross this post is sleeping in the shade under the leaves of a great rose tree that casts shadows onto the cloth and ornaments it like a threadbare icon with shadows of anxiety; over the smell of clay autumn clouds pour east.
(Arnold Böcklin| ‘Die Toteninsel’ (Isle of the Dead). Sergei Rachmaninov composed a Symphonic Poem Op. 29 after the fourth version of this painting by the Swiss Symbolist artist. This painting was made on copper plate and was lost during an allied bombing raid in WWII – only a black and white photograph of it exists and it was this in particular not the original ‘coloured’ painting that inspired Rachmaninov’s work.
I was in Carrbridge recently; celebrating a marriage. I took a room in the Carrbridge hotel and – as I always do in hotels – I opened and closed the wardrobe doors and pulled open all the drawers of all the other pieces of furniture in the room| Room 147. It was in the bed-side drawer that I found the Gideon Bible with its torn chapters of Genesis.)
Blue washing lines
Mary, mother of Jesus, sings of her grief at the loss of her child
Midnight meadow-verge wild flowers
‘The events of my life would fill more than a novel. It would take an epic, the Iliad and the Odyssey, and a Homer to tell my story … I won’t recount it today, I don’t want to sadden you. I have fallen into an abyss. I live in a world so curious, so strange. Of the dream that was my life, this is the nightmare.’ (Camille Claudel to Eugène Blot| Montdevergues Asylum)
‘Camille Claudel: A Life,’ Odile Ayral-Clause—A life, romanticised in print and in film; this work of scholarship dispels some of the myths that have been woven around Claudel’s life, not least around her relationship with Auguste Rodin; it offers a more considered picture of her achievements as a major sculptor in the Paris art world of the late-nineteenth-century.
At night he dreamt| the smell of apples heaped on barges floating down the river| rough studies sleeping under some cloth.
‘He was unwrapped by her breathing; by the rise and fall of her eyelids.’ (Eugène Blot)
Littlemill, Fortnightly, Ardlach, Coulmony, Ferness …| Flo – requiescat