A photographic variation on my poem 'Broken Heart Bible (Day 1)'. A3 sheets at the site of a demolished mill in Mossley.
Sunday, 6 February 2011
Urizen (after Blake)
Here I was experimenting with a line drawing I took from one of William Blake's paintings called 'Urizen'. The line drawing in on an acetate and then I added a whole egg and mixed in dry watercolour powders. Then I let it dry overnight. The next day the paint was lifting off the acetate into beautiful patterns. I took photos on a lightbox to emphasise the colours.
Friday, 4 February 2011
Saturday, 27 November 2010
Broken Heart Bible (Day 1): River Version
Site & Scale project.
A poem 'Broken Heart Bible (Day 1) in couplets printed onto A4 paper.
Couplets dropped into flowing water.
Video film inverted.
Crawling text of original text.
A poem 'Broken Heart Bible (Day 1) in couplets printed onto A4 paper.
Couplets dropped into flowing water.
Video film inverted.
Crawling text of original text.
The Broken Heart Bible
(Day One)
The arrow
through the apple.
The locks off the doors,
the doors off the jambs.
The shattered vase
was a gift to her freedom.
A fifth chamber
with unknown music.
Here is universal
circulation.
Longing deflected
to the unexpected.
These are the ruins -
here is the spade.
Heavy wings
fly furthest.
You realize the grief
is not all yours.
The cruelty
of kindness.
Words cluster
in the chest.
More water
for the uncontained roses.
All the more birds
to feather you with.
The horizon becomes
more present.
Nothing is learned;
the mystery goes deeper.
All things
are reflected here.
Cordate
tectonics.
The coral fish
reclaim their colours.
No gate;
no gatecrashers.
The garden becomes
a communal affair.
Leaves falling,
never landing.
Where there is no ground
there is no dizziness.
You can still polish
the armour.
Now all the arrows
can pass right through.
(c) Roger Bygott
(Day One)
The arrow
through the apple.
The locks off the doors,
the doors off the jambs.
The shattered vase
was a gift to her freedom.
A fifth chamber
with unknown music.
Here is universal
circulation.
Longing deflected
to the unexpected.
These are the ruins -
here is the spade.
Heavy wings
fly furthest.
You realize the grief
is not all yours.
The cruelty
of kindness.
Words cluster
in the chest.
More water
for the uncontained roses.
All the more birds
to feather you with.
The horizon becomes
more present.
Nothing is learned;
the mystery goes deeper.
All things
are reflected here.
Cordate
tectonics.
The coral fish
reclaim their colours.
No gate;
no gatecrashers.
The garden becomes
a communal affair.
Leaves falling,
never landing.
Where there is no ground
there is no dizziness.
You can still polish
the armour.
Now all the arrows
can pass right through.
(c) Roger Bygott
Friday, 26 November 2010
Time Frame Series
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