In the Dark Times*Posted: November 23, 2013
works from the wintertime 2012
As we have gracefully descended into the underworld of our subconscious, our hard fought existential realm, there has still been time to play. As we have gathered fuel for the cold lightless days and nights there has still been time to relish the crisp thrill of clean air and to pensively peruse the persistent West Country drizzle that could so easily dampen our resolve as artists and evolutionary entities. Over the years we have hopefully learnt to cast aside the ominous shadows of despondency and wholeheartedly enjoy the watery, wintery ways the Gulf Stream’s powerful waves provide. Lashing the coast, the cliffs, the shore and hills, the trees battered but braced against the heaving hurricane remains. This year we have been lucky – such richness, humour and warmth in the projected face of impending threat and loss. I have thrown a lifeline to the shore and she has returned the favour in kind. We have made mer-music and the song has been heard, not in the realm of money and men but in the dreams of all who dare to listen. We are learning the language of the earth again to share…
Where has the winter gone and why do dark times descend and lift so swiftly? The seasons spin on the drop of a pin, gyrating on a knife-edge. Soon the swallows will return to dance in the big skies. The timekeepers who observed the great wheel turning were bright in their estimations with nothing but fingers and thumbs to encode the future’s passing. We must at least be utterly impressed and truly humbled by such ancient ingenuity amidst the exploratory misadventures of our tribe and life’s chaotic willfulness. I align myself to your wise old ways as much as is possible within the trifling technological advancements, amongst the absurd distractions from my intuitive voice – this art of watching and whispering with the tides of time. I build a fire in our honour and pray for sense to come.
And crossing the border, this arbitrary boundary between here and there, we have entered another domain – of castles and towers, of mountains and cliff hugging choughs, of dreams, sunshine and fresh sea air blowing among the islands.
(*I just found this piece, written last winter but never posted, including images from that time. Many thanks to wonderful Francesca – it is always brilliant to look back over the work we have done together! 🙂 )
© P Ward 2013