The Manchester Art Gallery recently removed what is probably their best-loved painting ‘to prompt conversation’. The story of Hylas and the Nymphs dates back to the Ancient Greeks and Romans and has come down to us in a variety of tellings which means the story can be interpreted more than one way. I like J.W. Waterhouse’s painting of the subject and was sorry to learn it had been taken from view.
Controversy was intensified by this Guardian interview with the curator Claire Gannaway which included the quote:
“We think it probably will return, yes, but hopefully contextualised quite differently. It is not just about that one painting, it is the whole context of the gallery.”
By the time my sweetheart and I called in to the gallery earlier this week, the picture had been replaced, now above a sea of post-it notes.
Continue reading “J. W. Waterhouse’s Hylas and the Nymphs: A Modern Debate”
Some silences are companionable; others, less so.
Do you ever signal the fact of your being offended by lifting your nose towards the heavens, pursing your lips, and adopting the mock saintly expression of one cruelly mistreated, misunderstood (or both)? My sweetheart and I do. At first we used to ignore this haughty little signal, with predictable consequences, but a few years ago, we worked out a plan. Continue reading “Piglet Demonstrates Air Sneck”
Should anyone have the freedom to kill in the name of a cause in a world where we can’t agree on the cause; where one person’s idea of victory is another’s bitterest loss?
The recent attacks in [it seems most apt to leave the reader to fill in this gap] are no more – though not a jot less – than one in a list of atrocities that have shaken me since I was just about old enough to understand that something was wrong. The nightly TV news was running stories about men being kneecapped in front of their children, and young lovers being tarred and feathered just over the sea: I, being British, was implicated in it. Continue reading “Discover Challenge: Tough Questions”
So fair, so sweet, so sensitive,
Would that the little Flowers were born to live,
Conscious of half the pleasure that they give…
I’m sharing this for the weekly photo challenge from my favourite poetry anthology, Minorities: poems T.E. Lawrence hand-copied to a small, leather-bound notebook he kept with him.
Continue reading “Are You Conscious Of The Pleasure You Give?”
I found this colourful character I’m trying to love in Austin, Texas. Continue reading “Street Art: Don’t Hate!”