Thursday, June 13, 2013
The drawings show, in great detail, the junction of Goldsmith Street and Geraldine Street. They are architectural drawings, designed to pull us in to observe the specific details of the chosen scene. In the first we see a recessed doorway with a generous fanlight and the brickwork of the narrow porch ranged fan-like on the arch. There is a narrow garden outside and spiked, wrought-iron railings in front. Across the junction a row of similar red-bricked houses continues, a terrace made up of symmetrical pairs of houses, each with its elaborate door and single large front window. The houses are low, with a double pitched roof like two pleats of an accordion, each with its own chimney stack. The spiked railings continue around the end terrace, enclosing an area no more than a step wide. If you jumped up in the air a little you could see over the roof, or at least it feels like that. The tower of St Joseph’s Church on Berkeley Road with its four turrets completes the view of the terrace.
Read more on Graph Magazine’s site
Saturday, June 01, 2013
'It was Cavafy's habit to set down a few lines on a sheet of paper and then place the sheet in an envelope for future inspection. He stored these envelopes in his cluttered apartment, opening them when he felt capable of bringing the half-poems they contained to a satisfactory end. This was his lifelong method. Whenever a poem was finished, he showed it to a discerning friend, not an editor or a publisher. What seems so spontaneous, on the page is the result of years of rewriting and rethinking.'
– Paul Bailey in today's Guardian on a new translation of Cavafy
Anna Kamieńska The Lamp I write in order to comprehend not to express myself I don’t grasp anything I’m not ashamed to admit it sharin...
Back after a long absence with three versions of a poem from the Chinese, for our edification, followed by a moral quandary. The first...
John Riley’s early death — he was murdered by two muggers at the age of forty-one — combined with a history of publication by small presse...
The Meaning of Simplicity I hide behind simple things so you’ll find me; if you don’t find me, you’ll find the things, you’ll...