Showing posts with label sculpture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sculpture. Show all posts

Friday, 29 March 2024

Regret, Companion to the Fool


Roger, 1945-2023. A note from his friend Graham

 

Welcome from the ‘Essex Riviera’ at night. Thank you for reading.

Job, a minor contributing author to Bible canon, suggests that ‘wisdom comes with age’. Although I’m fairly sure that accumulating years merely confers experience and wrinkles. It’s rather retrospection that informs better choices.

Roger always promoted the idea of agreeing to differ. Even where diametrically opposing opinions clash. It’s the difference between a feisty debate or a blazing row. It is the discipline of healthy discourse, rather than viewing an opposing opinion through the distortion of ad hominem. In a wider sphere, it’s the difference between coexistence and war.

It is an uncomfortable truth that, as with most friendships, Roger and I had our occasional arguments. Even to the extent of hitching up petticoat tails and flouncing away in high dudgeon! Looking back, especially now that he’s passed away, I regret those occasions. They evoke a sense of self-recrimination, and rightfully become somehow absurd under the shadow of mortality. Most of our arguments occurred in the early days of our friendship. Predominantly over my awful timekeeping. I was in my early 30s and so blasé about punctuality. It annoyed him intensely - and rightly so. Mea culpa.

In so many ways, Roger made me a better person. He encouraged me to read great works of literature. He offered constructive criticism with my early attempts at poetry. A mentor really - as well as a best friend. We agreed on most things. But there were contentious issues at times.

The toppling of Edward Colston’s statue by student activists on 7 June 2020 in Bristol, being an example.* Yes, it’s true that destruction of public property is, on the face of it, criminality. And true, reinterpreting history for a political agenda is also problematic. (In this instance relating to Black Lives Matter.) However Roger’s disapproval of ‘vandalism’ by students seemed to me at odds with his core ethos on decrying hypocrisy. It looked like a sop to a politically conservative viewpoint (or perhaps it simply highlighted our generational divide). He regarded the removal of the bronze cast (by John Cassidy, 1895) as a version of mob-rule (ochlocracy). The destruction of ‘art’, Roger suggested, was a prelude to another Kristallnacht** and the horrors that followed in its wake. It remains a valid viewpoint.

But was it really ‘criminal damage’ or mindless destruction in this case? There’s something inescapably symbolic, and subjective, about placing a figure on a pedestal in a public space. It implies moral virtue. Specifically, Colston (1636–1721), a pious, ‘Christian’ man and MP, made various grandiose gestures to charities like Almshouses - to great public acclaim (virtue-signaling in modern terms). A self-publicising philanthropist. Although, his effigy emanates that unholy stench of hypocrisy. As an investor in the slave-trade, he weighed the lives of enslaved Africans as little more than chattel. Does this eugenicist worldview inspire civic pride among  Bristol’s multi-ethnic community…?

It seems befitting that Colston’s effigy was cast into the depths of Bristol Harbour. A watery grave shared by so many of those rebellious West Africans aboard trans-Atlantic slave vessels. Karma perhaps. Nowadays, let’s face it, Colston would be languishing in prison for people smuggling and modern-day slavery - rather than occupying the elevated position to which his blood-money afforded him. In my opinion, ridding the public space of him was an act of cleansing. And a collective gesture of moral aestheticism. It is surely valid to question the legitimacy of those figures who are held aloft as pillars of society? (As are the motives of those local civic leaders who strive to keep them there.)

With hindsight though, I realise both our opinions were valid. Both grounded in history and both informed by moral conviction. Opposing interpretations…

I think the point I’m trying to make is that obstinacy (or hubris) has a price to pay. It can be an obstacle to making amends with someone dear to our heart. And to some extent the conceit that accompanies a fervently held opinion deafens a person to other perspectives and blinds them to another’s legitimate counter-argument. It mutes expressions of regret and stifles the words ‘I’m sorry’. It is the genesis of regret. In my experience, a degree of humility is easier to live with than regret.

 

‘A man is not old until his regrets take the place of his dreams.’ Yiddish proverb

 

Notes:

* It was quite a heated disagreement. I think my indignance stems from visiting Cape Coast and Elmina slave castles in Ghana, 2006. Both housing churches to administer blessings and hear the prayers of men like Colston. And their depravities regarding enslaved female Africans resulted a fair-skinned, biracial local population that continues to this day.

** Nazi thugs destroying Jewish homes, hospitals schools and businesses in Germany, 1938.

 

* * *

 

REGRET

I move with favour or prejudice
among men, women, children;
To whomsoever calls me out, I will
always answer, no one denied
the music I bring, Blues I sing;
Rich, poor, famous, infamous, saints
and sinners… welcome to tap into
a wisdom some say down to Fate,
lessons learned too late

I touch without favour or prejudice
the loose thread missing a button
that old sock, empty vase in rooms
yawning with boredom for what’s
on TV and must have heard that CD
a thousand times (surely?) though
any sound better than none and
(finally) settling for a plaintive purr
by a lap tray set for one

I bury without favour or prejudice
forgotten dreams, misspent ideals,
wishful thinking on falling stars…
meant to light a kinder, better world;
alas, not meant to be though we
mull over old letters, photos, poems,
home videos… as dead as the cat
whose meows we miss and listen for
at every mealtime

I move without favour or prejudices
among life’s pleasures and losses

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015. From the collection ‘Accomplices to Illusion’.

Sunday, 5 July 2020

Wilde at Heart


Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2017. 

Someone who introduces himself as a "religious person" has emailed to berate me for "ignoring" the Covid-19 coronavirus pandemic and even publishing a gay-interest poetry blog at all." What can I say? I can only refer this reader to my general poetry blog where I have been making reference to the pandemic all the time. Regarding the creation of this blog, our sexuality is an important part of who we are, and we are all, in turn, part of a common humanity. Not everyone likes poetry, of course, but if he cannot bring himself to read either blog, I confess to being puzzled as to how and why he feels it is his "duty" to attack me for them. wry bardic chuckle

Over the years, I have made a number of significant revisions to my (published and unpublished) poems and novels. Eventually all my print books will hopefully have been converted to revised editions in e-format but this will take some time. As I am in my 70's now, I may need to depend on someone else. Publishers - other than anthology publishers and poetry magazine editors - have never shown any interest in my poetry because I have always insisted on insist on including a gay-interest section so I have mostly self-published. Consequently, my collections have only been on sale in the UK. While costly, I have always more than broken even with sales, and more importantly been very encouraged by feedback from gay and straight readers alike.

Find below, my dedication poem to Oscar Wilde from my  collection Tracking the Torchbearer. I read it on You Tube (NB under its original title, 'De Profundis') beside a wonderful sculpture - 'A Conversation with Oscar Wilde' by Maggie Hambling - that can be found in central London.


OR Access my You Tube channel and search there:

The poem was written in 1981; that I was able to write it at all played a significant part in the long haul of recovery from a nervous breakdown in 1979 that was perhaps inevitable after spending many years afraid - for various reasons - to be openly gay.

WILDE AT HEART

I lay floating in an ocean of misery,
willing myself to drown
while dolphins kept me company
and Apollo lingered on

Sharks, they kept a hungry distance,
an albatross winged by,
while waves lent a gentle cadence
to twilight’s lullaby

Went into free fall to the ocean floor
and would have stayed,
but Apollo demanded of me more
while the dolphins cried

I let them have their way if reluctantly,
screaming for their motivation,
peering into a misty-eyed mortality,
without rhyme or reason

No one answered my question though
I strained to hear,
then twilight let a cloud pass through
and I found a poem there

Body of straw in that ocean of misery,
willing myself to drown,
I read an ode to life, love and a history
of peace after wars hard won

It told how little in life ever comes easy
including death …
such is the fickle nature of humanity
in the sight of Earth Mother

I felt a poet’s passion take hold of me,
heard its voice in a seagull’s cry,
swimming me across an ocean of misery
to walk kinder shores, head high

I woke in tears still drenching my pillow,
began (slowly) to recover;
at chinks in the blinds, winks from Apollo
assuring me the worst was over

Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2007

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, March 2012]

[Note: Tragically of course, for Wilde, the worst was far from over during his lifetime.

Friday, 15 November 2019

Addressing the Art of Being Human

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

This poem is from my general poetry blog archives for November 2012.

On September 15th 2005, a sculpture of artist Alison Lapper by Marc Quinn was unveiled in London's Trafalgar Square. The sculpture is a three-and-a-half metre-high representation of disabled artist Alison Lapper when she was eight months pregnant. ‘Alison Lapper Pregnant’ was chosen from a shortlist of six in March 2004 and remained on the plinth for 18 months.

“Marc Quinn has created an artwork that is a potent symbol and is a great addition to London,” said the Mayor of London, Ken Livingstone, who endorsed and unveiled the sculpture. “It is a work about courage, beauty and defiance, which both captures and represents all that is best about our great city. Alison Lapper pregnant is a modern heroine – strong, formidable and full of hope. It is a great work of art for London and for everyone.’

Many if not most people seem to have agreed with Livingstone and the sculpture took pride of place at the opening ceremony for the London 2012 Paralympics in September this year; like the Paralympics itself, it has no played no small part in changing attitudes towards disability for the better and totally undermining old stereotypes. We can but hope for the same from future Paralympics and a better press for disabled people worldwide.

'Alison Lapper Pregant' on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square, 2005

'Alison Lapper Pregnant' at the Paralympics opening ceremony, London 2012

This poem is a villanelle.

ADDRESSING THE ART OF BEING HUMAN

Triumph of spirituality,
come Earth Mother truly excelling,
transcending creativity

Magnificence of fertility;
against its critics, surely rebelling;
triumph of spirituality

An essential diversity
above any cultural-religious calling,
transcending creativity

An expression of equality,
(sexuality, disability, notwithstanding)
triumph of spirituality

An all-embracing dignity
with its human prejudices engaging,
transcending creativity

Ambassador for family,
no art of motherhood more telling;
triumph of spirituality,
transcending creativity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012