Oil painting by Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890) entitled 'Skull of a skeleton with burning cigarette' Antwerp, winter 1885-86.
A man walked and wandered
Aimlessly around,
Absorbing all of natures art,
The light, the sights, the sounds.
A white sandy beach, the turquoise sea,
The long patterned trunks of the old gum tree,
The orange lichen, the greens and the browns,
The sparkle of a dew drop, the colours abound.
Suddenly a curled finger beckons
Through a dark shaded door,
A hand grabs his shoulder
And thrusts him to the floor.
As his eyes adjust to the darkness,
Shadows slowly appear,
A click of a switch spotlights
Artworks astonishingly queer.
The man stands up and wanders
Around and around and around
As he views each of the objects,
He wonders, is the artist's statement profound?
For the displays are human skeletons
Some painted, some jaded, some cracked,
Arranged in a multiple of poses,
Life so elegantly brought back.
Then he heard voices whispering
Chitter chatter obsessive and bleak,
Condemning the display as pagan,
Not insightful, enriching or unique.
The artist sat on a box
In a darkened corner of the room,
Absorbing the praise and the criticism
The long day would be over soon.
The man beckoned with his finger
On the other side of the door,
A hand grabbed the artist's shoulder
And thrust him to the floor.
His eyes flashed wide open
Scanning the surrounding show,
Of natures artwork on display
Unaltered, unchanged it flowed.
From mountain to sea and all inbetween
He closed his eyes and his mind's eye could see,
The image of his skeletal artworks
Alive, alone and free.
The man thought the artist brave
His intent he did not know,
Both men stood up and pondered
Silhouetted in the suns afterglow.
Ian Matthews
1st March 2009
2 comments:
It could be very confusing; the man, walking, wandering the world, views nature's art (the most perfect of art in all its imperfections) through the eye of memory perhaps? Then out of the blue he is awakened, brought to attention with an abrupt and violent action.
Whose finger beckons, whose hand grabbed his shoulder, the same one? Yes, it must be, mustn' it?
He now views the objects on display and wonders about the artist. Is the fingere and the hand the artist's or does it belong to someone else?
Then the artist sits on a box. Now there comnes a role reversal until we are left pondering about the man, the artist and indeed the art. A pleasant if somewhat inexplicible conundrum.
This reminds me so much of Edgar Allen Poe's writing - strange and macabre. I had not seen this painting before - a real discovery. And how appropriate to our times! I think the imagery is really strong. I like 'Artworks astonishingly queer' and 'Life so elegantly brought back.' in regard to skeletons (what could be more elegant!) and 'The long day would be over soon.'
Yeah I like it!
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