The ‘Drawings’ pages is now expanded and has an average of twenty drawings displayed at any one time. I have decided to display pictures in brush and ink from recent sketchbooks, so in a sense, they are not typical drawings. There is also a ‘Drawings for sale’ page. I have decided to sell these unmounted but in a strong folder to ensure that no damage occurs in transit. This means that the buyer can chose their own mounts and frame. Mounted pictures are liable to damage when sent in the post and this system also keeps postage costs down! Enjoy the site!
The Ashmolean Museum in Oxford has recently acquired a set of the ninety – one prints based on the life of Christ. They can be viewed in the print room there by appointment. As mentioned elsewhere, there is another set of these prints to be found in the British Museum print room, as well as the set of thirty – two prints on the life of St.Francis.
This section now contains poems, as this could be considered my “violin d’Ingres”. This space will therefore feature occasional poems, often around the subject of art.
We walked through London hand in hand
Then entered an enchanted land
Where spring and winter, May and June
Swept past us in a single room.
We climbed through frames and each new place
Held us within its special space.
We gathered flowers, collected leaves
And shared the air around the trees.
Through latticed limbs interstices
The white clouds shifted with the breeze
As we wondered through a glade
Lit by long light and striped by shade.
We reached the open country soon
And left our car to watch the bloom
Of spring enhancing everything
With all the gifts Persephonie can bring.
A wounded sentinel stood guard
Over something like a knackers yard-
A slaughter of tall trees – they lay
From all the jolly trafficking
Of different species gathering
in fellowship with sun and air
That used to be their comrades there.
Surrounded by a purple shroud<
That seemed to mourn their death aloud.
They lay until we came that way
And shared the woodland things dismay.
With limbs lopped off and helpless stance,
Pleading for some deliverance,
The purple sentinel still stood
As witness to the wounded wood.
We reached a scarp above a view
Through which we clambered, strode and flew<
As dales swooped down to distances
That answered with affirmatives,
Here no shadow of the dark that caught her
Disturbs the poise of Summerʼs Daughter
Who covered every spray of Spring
With a distinctive offering.
Now all at once we join with friends
We thought we knew, for friendship mends
The distances that lie between
The facts of art and our own dreams.
Join us in witness to applaud
The radiance of the Holy Mount
And ranged in worship all about
Salute the love that moves the Sun
About which all the planets run.
The air is fresh, his touch is sure,
The flux of nature is secure
As Hockney mixes paint and draws
With certain lines whose strength ensures
That every picture is a thing
That makes a special offering.
Francis Hoyland – 22.1.12