Trees are infinitely interesting and central to my artistic practise. They provide me with subject, inspiration, materials, surface. I have spent my life living on the edge of the woods and have spent a lot of time in, under and around trees. I can loose myself in the forest and become part of the moss and lichen, where I can feel closer to the legends woven through the land.
This is probably why I have always loved the work of W.B Yeats. His poem The Song of Wandering Aengus is the inspiration for my triptych of the same name:
The Song of Wandering Aengus, By William Butler Yeats
I went down to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
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