Poem

untitled drawing 8

The following poem is by Ian Buckley in response to seeing my work at Salthouse St Ives in May.

Cradles of thread

net stitch, bag stitch

grids, pockets, matrices –

step down to

the moving spawn

seeds ready to solve

their own codes;

things becoming, before

light finds them and hides them.

Intensity of eye

to wait on the substance,

watch how radiance begins

between fibres

and listen

‘ Your work is deeply unfashionable but pure poetry…’ Tutor at Norwich School of Art 2010.

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