"O, CLOUDS UNFOLD!"

This glorious, image-laden stained glass window commemorating William Blake – artist, engraver, printer and poet – is found in St. Mary's Church, Battersea Church Road, Wandsworth, London. 

 

The work of John Hayward of Edenbridge, Kent, this is one of four windows installed in  St. Mary's between 1976 and 1982, each representing a famous person associated with the church. The other subjects are landscape painter, J. M. W. Turner; General Benedict Arnold of the American Revolutionary War; and the celebrated Eighteenth-Century botanist, William Curtis.

 

William Blake was married to Catherine Boucher in the church in 1782. Many will be surprised to learn that the wife of one of our greatest poets was illiterate, and could only make her mark with a cross in the wedding register. The wedding is suggested by a wedding ring between two pencil portraits; on the left is William drawn by Catherine and, on the right, Catherine as drawn by William. 

 

The design of the rest of the window attempts to give expression to the diversity of Blake’s talents as an artist and poet. Among his more insistent themes are those concerned with how we perceive both the greatest and the smallest elements in our world and the idea that all things contain a male and female principle.

 

The verse on the lower right-hand side of the window is the opening four lines of Blake’s poem, ‘Auguries of Innocence’, assumed to have been written in 1803, but not published until 1863:

 

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour

 

The figure in the roundel is from Blake’s illustration ‘Albion Rose’, etchings of which carried the artist’s inscription: ‘Albion rose from where he labourd at the Mill with Slaves / Giving himself for the Nations he danc'd the dance of Eternal Death’. The figure of Albion, is a personification of humanity and of Britain and is depicted freeing himself from the shackles of materialism.

 

At the bottom right is a picture of the Houses of Parliament to mark the connection with the late William Hamling, MP, in whose memory the window was given.

 

 

[Photo: Brian Sibley, May 2011]

MR DODGSON'S GIFT!

On this day: 26 November, 1864 – one-hundred-and-sixty years ago –– Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (better known to us now as 'Lewis Carroll') presented an early Christmas present to his young friend, Alice Pleasance Liddell, daughter of Henry George Liddell, Dean of Christ Church, Oxford.

Mr Dodgson's gift was the hand-lettered and illustrated manuscript of Alice's Adventures Underground, a story he had to told to Alice and two of her sisters during a summer river expedition on the Isis on 4 July 1862. 

 

In 1865, the story, significantly expanded, was re-gifted – this time to the world – when the story was published, with illustrations by John Tenniel, under the title, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

"A VISIT FROM ST. ––– SNOOPY?"

 Eat your heart out Mr. Clement C. Moore!

 

 [illustration: (c) Peanuts]

FACING UP TO 'AI'

 

There is a lot of disquiet about the pros and cons of AI (Artificial Intelligence) and, specifically among artists, about ‘AI-generated art’, including strident protests that even the use of such a term is totally abhorrent! 

   

I am more ambiguous on the topic: partly because I have seen some highly original and inventive AI-imagery and because I think that, for millennia, art has always been subject to the vagaries of frauds and fakers as well as those who have a taken a broad perspective on such identifications as ‘after…’, ‘inspired by…’ and ‘in the style of…’

 

This liberality of accreditation can be seen in the output from the 'workshops' of the Old Masters; among those creating art with collage and photo-montage; and in Andy Warhol’s screen-prints featuring a ‘borrowed’ publicity-image of Marilyn Monroe from the 1953 film, Niagara, or that humdrum household staple, the Campbell’s Soup Can.

 

However, even I balked at finding an internet entry on Lewis Carroll featuring an AI likeness of the author of Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass alongside genuine, well-attested photographic images of the man.

 

 

Arguably, it is the best of a less-than-brilliant bunch of imaginings which range from the patently risible to the truly creepy... 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then, again, I tell myself, the National Portrait Gallery in London contains a variety of artworks variously portraying the well-known features of, say, her late majesty Queen Elizabeth II, so what the heck? Does it actually matter?

 

Perhaps, in the end, it just comes down to being able to identify, ‘What’s What and What’s Not’, between artefact and artifice.

 

**********

 

‘So [Alice] got up, and held out her hand. “Good-bye, till we meet again!” she said as cheerfully as she could.

 

‘“I shouldn't know you again if we did meet,” Humpty Dumpty replied in a discontented tone, giving her one of his fingers to shake: “you're so exactly like other people.”

 

‘“The face is what one goes by, generally,” Alice remarked in a thoughtful tone.

 

‘“That's just what I complain of,” said Humpty Dumpty. “Your face is the same as everybody has — the two eyes, so —” (marking their places in the air with his thumb) “nose in the middle, mouth under. It’s always the same. Now if you had the two eyes on the same side of the nose, for instance — or the mouth at the top — that would be some help.”

 

‘“It wouldn't look nice,” Alice objected. But Humpty Dumpty only shut his eyes, and said “Wait till you've tried.”’

 

**********

 

But we’d probably better not start a conversation on Pablo Picasso…

PUMPKIN PANORAMA

 

Now that it's safe to go out into the pumpkin patch once more, I thought I'd share this forbidding piece of graphic art, Nico Delort, celebrating (if that's not an inappropriate word of so 'dark' an artwork) the Great Pumpkin!

 

 

Explore more of Nico Delort's amazing art HERE

THE WITCH-HUNTING SEASON

 

From 61-years-ago today: the cover of The New Yorker with Halloween-themed art by that irreverent spook-meister, the great Charles Addams (1912-1988).

NOVEMBER

 

 

No sun – no moon!
No morn – no noon –
No dawn – no dusk – no proper time of day –
No sky – no earthly view –
No distance looking blue –
No road – no street – no 't'other side the way' –
No end to any Row –
No indications where the Crescents go –
No top to any steeple –
No recognitions of familiar people –
No courtesies for showing 'em –
No knowing 'em –
No travelling at all – no locomotion,
No inkling of the way – no notion –
'No go' – by land or ocean –
No mail – no post –
No news from any foreign coast –
No Park – no Ring – no afternoon gentility –
No company – no nobility –
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member –
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,–
November! 

Thomas Hood (1799-1845)

MY FRIEND, MR MOUNDSHROUD...

 

Mr. Moundshroud, who are YOU?

 

And Mr. Moundshroud, way up there on the roof, sent his thoughts back: I think you know, boy, I think you know. 

 

Will we meet again, Mr. Moundshroud? 

 

Many years from now, yes, I’ll come for you.

 

And a last thought from Tom: O Mr. Moundshroud, will we EVER stop being afraid of nights and death?

 

And the thought returned: When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go, and Death himself will die.

 

Tom listened, heard, and waved quietly. 

 

Mr. Moundshroud, far off, lifted his hand. 

 

Click. Tom’s front door went shut. 

 

His pumpkin-like-a-skull, on the vast Tree, sneezed and went dark.

 

The Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury, 1972

 

 

[Illustration: 'Mr. Carapace Clavicle Moundshround' by Joseph 'Joe' Mugnaini (1912-1992)]

IT'S HALLOWEEN, LINUS!

  

I'm just saying – on behalf of a friend...

 

                                                                                           (c) Peanuts Worldwide LLC

A TRAIN OF THOUGHT

Today would have been the 104th birthday of legendary fantasy writer, Ray Bradbury, with whom I was fortunate to have a 38-year friendship from 1974 until his too-early death in 2012. Whenever I visited Ray at his home in Los Angeles, I always made a point of pausing in front of this oil painting hanging on his sitting-room wall. 

 

Entitled ‘The Carnival’, was painted in 1952 by Joseph ‘Joe' Mugnaini (1912-1992). Long before Ray was sufficiently established in his career to purchase the original canvas, he had spotted a lithograph of the picture in the window of a Beverly Hills gallery. 

 

‘The Carnival’ presents an enigmatic vision of a crowded, flag-and-banner-bedecked train which is either coming out of nowhere (bound for a destination equally unknown) or is, otherwise, reversing towards the abrupt and perilous end of both railroad-track and viaduct. For Ray, it seemed to chime with some of the bizarre and fantastical themes that he had explored in his 1947 debut collection of short stories, Dark Carnival.

 

The result was the first of many meetings between two men with minds wide open to the eloquent and extravagant possibilities of an unfettered imagination. For Joe, it was the beginning of his collaboration with Ray: illustrating, decorating or providing evocative jacket-art for a succession of books beginning, in 1953, with The Golden Apples of the Sun and including such story collections as The October Country, A Medicine for Melancholy, The Machineries of Joy and the novels, The Martian Chronicles, Fahrenheit 451 and The Halloween Tree.

 

Joe's carnival train also, unquestionably, contributed to the shaping of Ray's book Something Wicked This Way Comes in which Cooger and Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show, with its entourage of monsters and misfits, arrives by locomotive, under the cover of night, in a sleepy American town to disrupt the fates and fortunes of the local residents and, in particular, the destinies of two young boys.

 

I'm sharing this haunting image today with grateful, affectionate memories of my many encounters and long years of correspondence with Uncle Ray and with respect and admiration for his creative collaboration with the talented Mr. Mugnaini.

"DOCTOR, WHO ARE YOU?"

Exciting news from the Whoniverse as Puffin publish the BBC book Doctor Who in Wonderland by Paul Magrs. A brilliant premise and excellent conceit: a new story in which the TARDIS deposits the Doctor in front of the gates to the Oxford university college, Christ Church, in what (in literary circles) would come to be regarded as a particularly notable year: 1862.

 

The Time Lord (to be specific, the Fifth Doctor, as portrayed by Peter Davidson) along with three of his companions from that era – Nyssa, Tegan and Turlough – are instantly swept into the milieu of Victorian Oxford where everything is going like a summer dream until, at a tea-party in the Deanery Garden, there’s a decidedly nightmarish twist… 

Paul Magrs skilfully and wittily interweaves many Whovian, Dodgsonian, Carrollian and Alician threads to create a memorable adventure that will be better enjoyed without ‘Spoilers’ from me. All that needs saying is that this excellent read is a loving tip-of-the-top-hat (‘In this style UK £9.99’) and, of course, a Panama Hat, to two great and enduring fantasy concepts, whose creative origins bridge a 100-year-span from 1862 to 1963.

 

Only one complaint from this reviewer: having read the book, it’s rather frustrating not being able to now reach for the DVD and watch this episode!

ONE MAN AND HIS DOG

I really enjoy sharing the work of artists who I've either long-admired or have only recently discovered.

This acrylic painting – 'Dog Day Afternoon' – is the work of self-taught Canadian, Steve Walker (1962-2012), whose work contains many hauntingly poignant images, invariably in a palette of muted colours, that often speak to unsettling combinations of joy and sorrow, loneliness and abandonment, hope and expectation, anticipation, frustration and disappointment and every other mood within the complex turmoil of human emotions...

As here, the features of Walker's subjects – invariable handsome young men, for he was a prolific chronicler of life, love and loss in the gay community – are often unrevealed: leaving us to interpret their body language and add whatever personal thoughts and feelings the settings bring to mind. Thus, the observer becomes, in a sense, a co-conspirator in the creation of the scene.

SUPER-ART

A classic piece of contemporary comic-book art: Adam Hughes' variant cover for DC's Superman #3 (published September 12, 2018). 

Simple, bold and dynamic: the urgent immediacy of Clark Kent's imminent transformation into Superman, the upturned gaze, the catastrophe of the moment reflected in his spectacles. 

Brilliant!

ALL THE WORLD'S A FAIR

Artist: Robert M. ('Bob') Peak (1927-1992)

Sixty years ago, in 1964, I was 15 years old and fixated on all things American – art, literature and music, politics and pop-culture (especially humour, cartoons and comic books) and, of course, TV and movies. 

 

Coverage in the British press of the opening on this day of the New York World’s Fair 1964-65 was was hardly extensive, but wherever it appeared I found and devoured it.

 

The concept was visionary and the realisation looked awesome. Everything about it was new, vital and stimulating: a contemporary re-embodiment of those British extravaganzas, The Great Exhibition of 1851 about which I’d read and, from a century later, the Festival of Britain of which I had a few toddler memories. 

 

I was particularly obsessed by the NYWF because my idol, Walt Disney, was responsible for creating a quartet of attractions for the Fair’s pavilions, including the first manifestations of Disney’s ‘audio-animatronics’ including prehistoric landscapes of robot dinosaurs and an address from an android Abraham Lincoln.

 

Six decades on, the New York World’s Fair has lost none of its fascination for me and ‘memories’ of this event that I never attended have continued to fuel my fascination with the art and mechanics of theme parks – especially those engineered by Mr Disney and his successors. 

 

Perhaps this selection of posters – several by noted artists and all redolent of 60’s graphic art and design – will convey something of the sense of excitement experienced by my teenage-self!

 

 

 

Artist: David Klein (1918-2005)

 

 

Artist: Henry Benscathy (1909-1996)  

 

Artist: Unknown  

 

 

  

Artist: Dallasta

 

Artist: Unknown

 

 

 

Artist: Robert M. ('Bob') Peak (1927-1992)

 

Artist: Robert M. ('Bob') Peak (1927-1992)

 
 

 

 

Artist: Disney Studio

 

 Artist: Unknown

 

 

 Artist: Robert M. ('Bob') Peak (1927-1992)

 

 

 

 

Artist:  Whitney Darrow Jnr. (1909-1999)

 

 

WEIRD AND WONDERFUL

 

Here's great piece of great art by Al Feldstein (1925-2014) for Weird Fantasy Vol. 1, # 17 (January 1953) featuring dinosaurs, a spacecraft and the name of a man familiar with both: Ray Bradbury! 

 

In fact, the Bradbury story included in this issue, 'There Will Come Soft Rains', had nothing to do with either space-travel or prehistoric life, because Weird Fantasy covers were invariably generic, featuring images guaranteed to catch the eye and raise the pulse of the potential reader: rockets, robots, aliens, monsters, dinosaurs and (wherever and whenever possible) scantily-dressed females in peril! 

 

Nevertheless, this could so easily have been an image for Bradbury's legendary dino-saga, 'A Sound of Thunder'. 

 

And, anyway, I just love it!

PACIFIC PERSPECTIVE

I am much struck and deeply moved by this extraordinary 1967 painting, 'Pacific': the work of Alex Colville (1920-2013), a Canadian artist and print-maker, responsible for works of Magical Realism that confront the viewer with mysterious imagery that beg questions and provoke propositions. 

 

There is so much discipline in its composition: the precision of painting: the geometrically-tiled floor; the table (with its curious measuring rule – establishing a formal sense of order, control or, perhaps, indices of time and space) and the portentous pistol carelessly, or precisely, abandoned or just waiting; the louvered window and the seascape beyond all contrasted with the figure of the shirtless man, turned from us, head and features unseen, watching, we presume, the gentle breaking of a single wave...