http://www.oxforduniversitystores.co.uk/browse/extra_info.asp?compid=1&modid=1&deptid=123&catid=938&prodvarid=567
There are just a few places left on the course, poetry confronting art, 7/8 August 2013 at The Ashmolean.
There is just time left to apply for a bursary of the full cost of the course if you have signed up.
Send an ekphrastic poem about an object in the Ashmolean to me at the e-mail address of this weblog, once you have enrolled.
The best poem wins.
I am very much looking forward to helping people find inspiration for creative poetry writing.
Do remember to bring a camera or smartphone with you to the course if you have one.
Don't worry if not, the museum can lend you one.
cameras are not essential, but your images can help you develop your work.
Poetry and Pictures seen and created at the museum. At present the museum is the Ashmolean museum in Oxford.
Friday, 19 July 2013
Poetry confronting art; a summer school at The Ashmolean Museum 7/8 August
http://www.oxforduniversitystores.co.uk/browse/extra_info.asp?compid=1&modid=1&deptid=123&catid=938&prodvarid=567
Please contact Nick Owen directly on 07962532478 to learn more about this course.
Please contact Nick Owen directly on 07962532478 to learn more about this course.
Thursday, 18 July 2013
Diana Moore: Pan and his Pipes
http://www.ashmoleanprints.com/image/383266/italian-padua-inkstand-pan-listening-to-echo
Name of poet:
DIANA MOORE
date sent in: 3rd June
2013
Title of poem: PAN
AND HIS PIPES
Name of object in the museum: PAN LISTENING TO ECHO
Pan and his pipes. Pan and his pipes . Pipes, pipes, pipes.
Pan and his pipes. Pan and his pipes. Pipes, pipes, pipes.
He’s stopped and he’s
stopped in his tracks. Tracks.
What is it in the air
that he lacks? Lacks, lacks.
I have waited in the
meadow with the flowers. Hours
Sweet are the daisy
and cowslip. Slip
Here in the meadow, alone
by and by
I sigh. Sigh.
Where are you Echo my
love? I Love.
You are my only love.
Am I your only one? Only one.
Here am I for you
always, to no other will I go. Go.
Is that you singing
in the leaves, don’t leave me. Leave me.
Alone, I don’t want
to be alone. Alone.
What say you plants…?
Come Crested dogs-tail. I ail.
Do you feel low, as I
do, Musk mallow?
Are you ill for love,
Tormentil?
Here among the Meadow Brome. I roam
I roam and seek your
presence. Essence.
I have waited in the
meadowsweet meadow. Oh!
Echo, come take my
hand. And
I will wait for you
here in the meadow. Oh! Woe!
©Diana Moore
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Diana writes and performs for
both children and adults. Her poetry
workshops are fun and interactive. For
further information, or to book an event, please contact Diana via her website
or on mobile: 07789 302995. www.diana-moore.com
Information sourced
from the Ashmolean research team.
Pan Listening to Echo
Attributed to DESIDERIO DA
FIRENZE
(active Veneto 1532 – 45)
Padua or Venice, 1520 - 30
Long regarded as one of the most
poetic small bronzes of the Italian Renaissance, the so-called Pan listening to Echo was the first
bronze that Fortnum ever acquired.
The classical god of the woods
and fields is here shown in near-human form, with only his small horns, sharp
pointed ears and tuft of tail betraying his true nature. More commonly depicted in art as a satyr-like
figure driven by his animal instincts, Pan is depicted in quite a different
light in the story of his vain love for the nymph Echo, which appears in Greek
pastoral poetry. Around the beginning of
the sixteenth century, the story enjoyed renewed popularity because of the
enormous success of the poem Pan and Echo
by the great poet Poliziano, first published in 1494. These haunting verses, in which the echo
responds to the lover’s lament, are a perfect gloss on the bronze and may well
have directly inspired it.
Che fai tu Echo mentre chio ti
chiamo? Amo.
Ami tu duo/ o pur un solo? un
solo.
E io te sol e non altri amo:
altri amo
Dunque non ami tu un solo? Un
solo
Questo รจ un dirmi inon tamo:
inon tamo
Quel che tu ami: amil tu solo?
Solo
Chi tha levato dal mio Amore?
Amore
Chef a quello achi porti Amore?
Ah more.
Note: The above is
an extract from a longer (two-page) article.
Inspiration for the
piece ~ a note from Diana Moore
I was taken with gentleness of Pan in this bronze, as well
as the title Pan Listening to Echo. I
was curious as to why he is depicted in this almost human form (he has toes,
while the satyr-like Pan god has cloven hooves). I like the detail and quality (you need to
see his back for the muscle detail). I
could see scope to write a musical piece, however, for this occasion, I have
experimented with an echo poem. I met
with a native Italian to get a translation of the old poem (above) and this
gave me a starting point for my own work.
Greek Mythology
There are a number of stories of Echo in Greek
mythology. Firstly, Echo had her power
of speech taken away by Zeus’s wife, Hera
(see the tale of Echo and Hera);
secondly, Echo fell in love with
Narcissus, but Narcissus was only in love with himself. Thirdly, Pan fell in love with Echo but Echo
did not love him back and that is the angle I have chosen to write about, Pan’s
vain love for Echo.
There is a more harrowing tale of Pan and Echo in which she
is torn to shreds for rejecting Pan, and there is yet another story that
suggests Pan and Echo were married and had two children…!
Saturday, 15 June 2013
THE LAST NIGHT, A NIGHTINGALE by Vahni Capildeo
You begin with a design:
the artist’s strokes
a kind of preening that elicits
frictive glosses from your close-up wings.
Whoever drew you also caged you,
this freehand desert-colour time-box
partly pinkish, like your eggshells.
Through a set of lilac lines,
and dawn, and dusk,
you look sideways.
Sweet, invasive and entirely silenced thing,
I’ve company to place beside you –
not yet.
Passerine bird,
in your passage from Persian to English
you’re no longer a nightingale, though you’ll warble
and curl your toes.
While you perch,
I’m minded to bring you a tree and a night
and a song to be yours: the memorable one
flung out by your namesake from a moonstruck twig
that time our deaths were forecast on the news
so we went for a walk, and rested in you
our everything lyrical forever.
Sunday, 9 June 2013
Emperor by Nick Owen (second draft)
Just a sketch
Guidelines for street art
A welcome for the Spanish Governor
And the most compelling object in this old museum
These are the lines of battle
Lines of sorrow
And defeat
No face has endured more
His eyes
Look back into his soul
Look outward in fear
His will to power holds him hanging by a thread
His lips
Set firm
Are yet resigned to what must come
The crown sits awkwardly
Tipping backward from his forehead
Ready to fall
He knows nothing of surrender to the Self
He holds high his sceptre
An almost empty threat
A sword without an edge
He will never know the peace of letting go
His body bent
Right foot inching forward
His head torn sideways
Death distracts him from left field
Armour and authority
Hold no sway with this assailant
The orb, the world
Held in his hand
Is eaten by shadows
His liver is all shadow
This wounded King knows
Nothing of the grail
His inner world
His outer world
A wasteland
Only fear
And an ego of steel
A habit of rulership
Fight off the darkness
He needs to feed on the world he mastered
Draw its mother milk to his embrace
No sustenance comes
Soon he will be food for worms
Despite his conquests in this world and time
He must return again to dust and slime
For in this portrait we can clearly see
He found no moment in eternity.
©Nick Owen 2013
Updated Readings for June gallery Readings
Gallery readings for June 15th
12.30-13.45 14.30-15.45
Poet Name of poem Object Gallery
Gabby Tyrell
Netsuke (Manju)
Netsuke ?
Nick Owen
Emperor Emperor
(Rubens sketch) Dutch gallery
Andrew Smardon Aestel the Alfred Jewell Room 41 England 400 - 1600
Giles Watson Morrigan Bronze Raven's Head- Shaped Spout,
First Century B.C. Hod
Hill, Dorset . Gallery 17
(European Prehistory)
Olivia Byard
In true Colours. The forest fire
by Piero di Cosimo Renaissance
gallery.
Diana Moore PAN AND HIS PIPES PAN LISTENING TO ECHO WESTERN ART, GALLERY 43
Vahni Capildeo The Last Night, A Nightingale Red-vented Bulbul. Gallery 33, Mughal India.
Paulette Mae no title yet The Cast Gallery... the casts in general around the 'Old Fisherman'.
In True Colours (‘The Forest Fire’ by Piero di Cosimo) by Olivia Byard
I have always known such creatures
prowled in the forest; felt their flint eyes
watching; sensed them stir behind
thick boughs. Now here is proof.
Spilled out by fire into the fading day
they scatter in search of other lairs.
The cannier, with human face, look
almost shamed to be exposed like this;
yet lions and lumbering bears
race out unthinking beside a bellowing
domestic cow. In such a scurry
nightmares dissipate
to their fragmented parts. Yet
when, the fire tamed, plants begin
to reclaim those scorched-out tracks,
these creatures sneak back in,
conceal themselves in undergrowth
nest among burgeoning branches,
and wait, with silent intent,
for the dark dreams to quicken.
Olivia Byard
Published by The Flambard press
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