|
Three Poems for Barbara Hepworth
Rupert Loydell
These poems were first published in
Four Poems for Barbara Hepworth, a booklet published by the author in a
very short print run as a gift for the audience at a reading for
Hepworth LIVE! on the 9 April 2016 at the Barbara Hepworth Museum and
Sculpture Gardens in St. Ives.
|
|
A TRIPTYCH FOR BARBARA HEPWORTH
(Tate Britain, autumn 2015)
‘They’ve stolen the moon
The magic is gone’
– David Sylvian, ‘Midnight Sun’
1. Wounded Bird
The man who looked like a crow
flying along in a fringed black shawl
is accompanying a child on crutches.
Together they circle small maquettes,
models where wood and plaster
have been freed and given flight,
having an endless discussion
about what they find if they look,
and how – and why – it was made.
2. ‘Conversations with Magic Stones’
The rock was silent
but sparkled in the sun.
I sang to it,
cajoled it,
commanded it.
The rock was silent
but glinted in the rain.
I spoke to it sideways,
whispered endearments,
pleaded and whined.
The rock was silent,
its magic stilled.
I walked away
and left it
to its own devices.
The rock called out
or so I heard.
I didn’t go back.
Magic can never be
secondhand.
3. Last Day of Show
There are a hundred visitors
being told how to look
and what to look at.
The stones are lifeless,
have been overwritten about,
theorised and conceptualised
until it is hard to find
their beauty, see the poise
and balance Hepworth made.
The stones have been boxed
in plastic, labelled with words
and ordered, spirit broken.
Give them back to the wind
and sea and sky and waves.
It is where everything is.
INSIDE OUT: BARBARA HEPWORTH
from a photo by Cornel Lucas
The sculptor pulls open her heart
and stares at you from inside.
She is silent and out of focus;
only the work speaks for her
and to us. If you do not hear
the stone or wood singing
then sit and learn to listen
in her garden or gallery.
Poems © Rupert M Loydell Photo © Susan Loydell
|
