Art in heaven: Harvey Gillman’s Thought for the Week

‘Rarely have I written anything so quickly and spontaneously.’

One of the things that kept me going through lockdown was a book depicting 3,000 years of Chinese painting. Each day I took one or two as a basis for meditation. On Facebook groups which carry these works, I am often overwhelmed by the simple beauty of, and veneration towards, the landscapes painted. There is a whole history of form and symbolism unlike that of western art.

Some weeks ago, I was presented a Japanese ink drawing called Cicada dreaming of building a moon gazing pavilion (left). Cicadas have different meanings in different cultures. It seems that in Japanese art the cicada and its lifecycle often represent the passing nature of all things. When I first saw the image I noticed the smallness of the insect and the vastness of the moon. I was aware of the shortness of life and the longevity of the moon. The insect has crawled on a short stem to get a better look. It dreams of building a pavilion, a way of mastering what is far beyond itself.

The painting reminded me of a trip we made to Israel and the Occupied Territories in the early nineties with Woodbrooke. We visited several of the sites associated with the life of Jesus. At each place we were told of miracles, and often there was a vast edifice commemorating the event. It was as if the followers of Jesus wanted to encase the miracle and the man, as though holiness needed to be protected and preserved in stone and precious jewels.

We recently visited the magnificent cathedral of Tarragona. I had not anticipated such beauty, such wealth, such astonishing artwork. Towards the end of the visit we sat in one of the smaller chapels. Something took hold of me and I felt the need to leave and go into the cloister, into the sunlight among the grass and the flowers. I love cloisters of ancient churches. They were meant for meditation and for fresh air. I returned to the hotel where we were staying and immediately wrote the following poem. Rarely have I written anything so quickly and spontaneously. It is not a criticism of the cathedral, merely the reflection of a small creature dreaming not of building a pavilion, but delighting in the miracle of being alive in a world which still, despite everything, is full of enchantment.

Tarragona cathedral reflections

They wanted the coolness of marble,

wax melting beneath votive candles,

grave and solemn statues smelling of incense,

words inscribed in ancient languages,

telling old stories of sin and redemption.

I wanted sunlight on fragrant hibiscus,

gothic columns inviting to a shining garden,

exuberant fountains in a green cloister.

I watched ghosts dancing slow and wild,

rituals blossoming from hearts of enchantment.

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Comments

Lovely, Harvey. Thank you. x

By Jenniferdk on 3rd August 2024 - 17:58

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