Today I don’t have anything new to show you of crochet, knitting or recipes or even photographs so I will share something that has been in the back of my mind for some while.
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’
So writes Keats at the end of his poem “Ode on a Grecian Urn”.
All my life I can see that there are two things that have been supremely important to me: the first is Truth, which I always defined to myself not in terms of words and statements but as ‘reality – what is’, the second is beauty.
When I create something in crochet or knitting I am always looking to create something that is not only functional but also beautiful. That is why I love rainbows, because to me the gradually progression of colours in a rainbow is intensely beautiful.
A rainbow also has an element of truth because it shows us the colours that are hidden in white light.
As a small child my father would read to me from “Palgrove’s Golden Treasury” and when I was about eight I started trying to write poetry myself.
Neither my father nor my mother ever liked my poetry but when I was seventeen I entered one of my poems for the school magazine and won the prize for the best entry. My father called the poem ‘precious’ and hated it.
But it was one of my poems where I was trying to capture a sense of both beauty and the fragility of life. You may agree with my father but I will share it below so you can see.
A GIRL DROWNED IN WINTER
like the sleeping princess,
as if but a kiss would wake her.
her hair in studied perfection lies,
her hands composed in calmest grace.
those cheeks where roses bloomed,
her petal eyelids, fringed with gold,
so lightly closed in dreamless sleep,
our whispers could almost wake her.
icy brows, frozen lips
that once were parted with sweetest breath.
no more, no more only the tomb
shall hear her soundless wordless cries.
youth’s beauty transfixed
by the might of the cruel sea;
drawn down to the darkness of death,
daylight no more, forever night.
Late I wrote an even more fanciful poem that was meant to capture a similar reality.
It is called
A rose growing in the dawn
Of the morning of the world:
Glowing pink, white and golden.
Each petal stirs like a flame
As the bud unfolds:
It’s life reality – beauty
And then I saw
Walking across the Eastern sea
A maid with eyes like stars
And hair of flame,
Wrapped in a rainbow mantle
Of flowing iridescence.
The sea so calm and grey
Beneather her feet like pearl.
Across the sands she came
Towards the living rose
Stretched out her trembling hands
Like opals and carved jade.
She broke the stem like glass
And all the world was still,
Then turning she bore the rose
Beyond the rising sun.
I can see that this combining of truth and beauty is why I like photography and especially photographing flowers.
It is also why I resist the idea of editing my photos to make them into art works as for me capturing the truth of the moment is what it is all about.
Here is what I consider one of my best photgraphs ever because it capture’s that perfect moment.