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Proud Poetry – a Swansea painting

Where we live is very important to us. Where we grow up shapes us for the rest of our lives, for good or bad. When I have an anxiety dream its often about moving house. I put this down to the fact that during my childhood we moved many times; Hereford, Newcastle, Whitley Bay and Gloucester. I had been to 9 difference schools by the time I was 11. I carried on moving for my education, first to Cardiff, then to Peckham and Greenwich in London and finally Swansea.

The house where I spent my teenage years in Gloucester no longer exists. It was knocked down several years ago. It was built in 1976 and was gone 30 years later. I find that odd. I have been past the spot where it used to stand and I find its absence unsettling. I think that’s why I love the solid Edwardian terraces of Brynmill, these houses have been here for over a century. The grand mock Tudor houses of the Uplands, built in the inter-war years of the 20th century will last and will, hopefully, last another century.

David Fry bought a painting of mine, “Proud House”,  a while back. Imagine my surprise and delight when he contact me to tell me that it had brought back many childhood memories for him and it inspired him to write a poignant poem about it.  I thought I’d share it with you.

WHAT I SEE – A Proud House

Join palette with oils tincture and powder to display

The artist draws down with sight and prodigious emotion

As alchemist hails a canvas sharp lined spare skilled too

An affectionate depiction smoothed fine in occult lotion.

 

What do I see in authentic rendition so germane

A rare gift in practiced thought and summit won

Is this an ethos for other endeavours by artists told?

No…mesmerised true in a story book I am held by this one.

 

Maybe I glimpsed what was intuition a fable in the making

To bind a time and way to a journeyman’s remembered sight

But mostly I am filled with a bitter sweet regret

From childhood certainty in family life to lonely night.

 

A house transcends all purpose and design

And paint surpasses in hindsight the record of focussed light

Imbued with lives lived rich and sheltered in wallpaper defined

Something raised above all description a distillation bright.

 

School friends gone their paths fade in narrow winded days

Histories will reveal life travels worn their purpose long set

Hope boxed my laughter hard with glass at times half full

But the proud house survives still and is well met.

Proud House.jpg
Proud House

I am taking a break from my Gower walk until mid-June to work as an exam invigilator for the university.