Destruction/Creation/Reflection in all things.
High wasteland looking North. Autumn, 2014.
So, after a time, I return to England. She remains England with all of her age and furies. Then upon some mornings the mist hangs low with rapture in the valleys.
From the mutineer Fletcher Christian’s birthplace above Paddle Beck. Autumn, 2014.
"I didn’t mean to drown myself. I meant to swim till I sank - but that’s not the same thing."
"Desperate sort of devil."
Screenshots and dialogue from A Cottage on Dartmoor (1929, Anthony Asquith)
The cinema is all Love and Death. Long may the reels run.
'One sees Time adorned with green foliage,
sometimes as pleasant as an angel,
then suddenly change and become quite strange.
Never does Time persist in one state.’
Translated from the Ancient French script on the tapestry ‘Time’, woven with silk and wool near Lyon in the year 1512.
The piece is housed in the Cleveland Museum of Art.
Short film ‘A Day in the Hayfields’ (1904) by Cecil Hepworth.
This was happening 110 years ago this year. It all passes so fast.
"The day was over and we had used it, running errands or prowling the fields…It was then that I began to sit on my bed and stare out at the nibbling squirrels, and to make up poems from intense abstraction, hour after unmarked hour, imagination scarcely faltering once, rhythm hardly skipping a beat, while sisters called me, suns rose and fell, and the poems I made, which I never remembered, were the first and last of that time…"
"A poet cannot continue to be a poet if he feels that he has made a permanent conquest of the Muse, that she is always his for the asking."
The world is just one giant treadmill of wonder.
Clarity, texture, and exploration in the frame of time. A Hill. Summertime, 2014.
Everything we put onto the land feeds the sky sooner or later.
Erosion on the Inner Hebrides. Summertime, 2014.
In these strange, digital days the things that Google does not know are becoming the most valuable.
A fell somewhere. Sometime, 2013.
Your boundaries are trivial and frail. Vessels of a rotted dynasty. We will consume them as we will consume your laws and petty clocks, and all will once again be earth.
Rolls of wire in the ground below Widow Hause. Summertime, 2014.
"The Neanderthals who buried their companions with such care seem to have imagined that the visible, material world was not the only reality. From a very early date therefore it appears that human beings were distinguished by their ability to have ideas that went beyond their everyday experience. We are meaning-seeking creatures…Myth is about the unknown; it is about that for which initially we have no words. Myth looks into the heart of a great silence."
"I remember this guy, his name was … Blackjack. He died. He only had one leg, and he died. And I think that was Blackjack making those noises."
Screenshots and dialogue from Days of Heaven (1978, Terrence Malick)
© John Porter 2010 - 2014