When I was four years old I found a sixpence on the quay at Poole Harbour. I’ve been picking up stuff that catches my eye ever since. Beach glass, shells, rounded stones and the sea-drift that the tide brings in. Rusted nails and washers, Gate hinges and horse shoes, Marbles and chestnuts. The lost abandoned, dropped, and discarded; the…
Valentine for Ernest Mann You can’t order a poem like you order a taco. Walk up to the counter, say, “I’ll take two” and expect it to be handed back to you on a shiny plate. Still, I like your spirit. Anyone who says, “Here’s my address, write me a poem,” deserves something in reply. So I’ll tell a secret…
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road. Before the advent of motorways in the UK (first section of the first – the M1 opened in 1959) it was true that almost any straight road you found in England was built by the Romans. The burst of road building during the industrial revolution meant generations of British schoolchildren introduced…
1940 has been well served by blockbuster movies this past year. Last summer there was Dunkirk as legendary saga and then this winter Darkest Hour focussed on the Westminster drama of the political backdrop. Dunkirk tells the story of the evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force by following what happens to some representative figures – soldiers trying to get off the beach; a…
This post was updated on March 9th 2019 with the addition of a postscript: A film about Hamilton’s life and work via ht @LucyLondon7 This is one of those “nevertheless she persisted” stories. The Canadian artist Mary Riter Hamilton had studied in Europe before having to return to Canada to care for her ailing mother. At the outbreak of the…
When Norah Neilson Gray (1882 -1931) taught at St. Columba’s School for Girls in Kilmacolm her students called her “Purple Patch” because she was always urging them to look for the color in the shadows. You can see that she took her own advice in this painting Hôpital Auxilaire 1918. It shows the reception area of the Royaumont Abbaye Hospital as it was…
There isn’t much to learn about Nellie Elizabeth Isaac online and some of it’s inaccurate. But as always with the string of magic beads that is the internet – there is always something to discover. Isaac was born in 1886 and grew up in respectable middle-class Hampstead (not West Ham). Her father Percy Lewis Isaac was a naval architect and marine…
Some paintings are made to pair with a poem. Read Edward Thomas’s As the Team’s Head Brass and then take another look at A Winter Landscape, 1926 by Christopher Richard Wynne Nevinson (1889–1946) As the Team’s Head Brass As the team’s head-brass flashed out on the turn The lovers disappeared into the wood. I sat among the boughs of the fallen elm That…
In 1918 Australia appointed sixteen official war artists. All were men. Iso Rae – who had lived in France throughout the war – was not included. The Australian impressionist painter Isobel Rae (1860-1940) moved with her mother and sister Alison – also an artist – from Melbourne to Paris in 1887. Three years later they settled in Étaples in northern France.…
All agreed that 1917 had been a sad offender. All observed that 1918 did not look promising at its birth. At midnight on New Year’s Eve 1918 the poet Edmund Blunden looked out over the whole Ypres battlefield: It was bitterly cold, and the deep snow all round lay frozen. We drank healths, and stared out across the snowy miles…
I found this on the London Library Advent calendar. Just the perfect image for anything a little Christmassy with a touch of vintage thrown in. This robin was for day 10. It was the perfect pic for the home-made greeting card. All of the images were interesting and here are a few more that caught my eye. Day 11:…
Time for some seasonal greetings from the front. The traditional Christmas message of charity, reconciliation, and peace on earth now ensured through violence and exploding Christmas puddings. These first are from Fergus Mackain – an advertising illustrator who grew up in Canada and the USA. In 1915 – leaving his wife and children – he worked his passage across the Atlantic…
Literary reputations come and go, rise and fall like food fads and fashion. Marjorie Pickthall – once so highly regarded that she was considered the best Canadian poet of her generation – is now mostly forgotten. Pickthall was something of a child prodigy. At 15, she sold her short story “Two-Ears” – about an Iroquois boy who wants to prove himself a…
Hard to think of a better example of misplaced romantic nostalgia than yearning for the days before the era of modern central heating, double glazing, insulation and hermetically sealed homes. The fretwork of ice on the inside of the bedroom window in the morning; the eternal sliding off of the eiderdown in the middle of the night no matter how…
I’ve been reading the quite wonderful Tirzah Garwood memoir Long Live Great Barfield – a book that deserves several posts all its own. For now, here is her wood engraving Winter “1927 to accompany Marie Howe’s affecting and life-affirming poem about keeping going and carrying on after loss: What the Living Do. It’s in the form of a letter to…