Glesca Culture
May. 12th, 2008 02:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
f4f3Two for the price of one.
Salvador Dali's "Christ of St John of the Cross" was recently voted top of a public poll of Scotland's best loved paintings. It has hung in the Kelvingrove Art Galleries for around 50 years, and every time I see it I feel like I've revisited an old friend.
I've always wondered about Dali's choice to exclude the suffering of Christ from the painting.
Edwin Morgan is probably Glasgow's best loved poet (pace Liz Lochead), and he seems to share my love and confusion.
Edwin Morgan
Salvador Dali: Christ of St John of the Cross
It is not of this world, and yet it is,
And that is how it should be.
Strong light hits back and the arms
Coming from where we cannot see,
Ought not to see, another dimension
For another time. At this time, we
Share the life of bay and boat
With simply painted fishermen
Who give no Amen
Even if clouds both apocalyptic and real
Made them look up and feel
What they had to feel
Of shattering amazement, fear,
Protection, and a wash of glory.
Was it an end coming near?
Was it a beginning coming near?
What happened to the thorns and blood and sweat?
What happened to the hands like claws the whipcord muscles?
Has the artist never seen Grünewald?
'I have to tell you John of the cross called,
Said to remind you light and death once met.'
Salvador Dali's "Christ of St John of the Cross" was recently voted top of a public poll of Scotland's best loved paintings. It has hung in the Kelvingrove Art Galleries for around 50 years, and every time I see it I feel like I've revisited an old friend.
I've always wondered about Dali's choice to exclude the suffering of Christ from the painting.
Edwin Morgan is probably Glasgow's best loved poet (pace Liz Lochead), and he seems to share my love and confusion.
Edwin Morgan
Salvador Dali: Christ of St John of the Cross
It is not of this world, and yet it is,
And that is how it should be.
Strong light hits back and the arms
Coming from where we cannot see,
Ought not to see, another dimension
For another time. At this time, we
Share the life of bay and boat
With simply painted fishermen
Who give no Amen
Even if clouds both apocalyptic and real
Made them look up and feel
What they had to feel
Of shattering amazement, fear,
Protection, and a wash of glory.
Was it an end coming near?
Was it a beginning coming near?
What happened to the thorns and blood and sweat?
What happened to the hands like claws the whipcord muscles?
Has the artist never seen Grünewald?
'I have to tell you John of the cross called,
Said to remind you light and death once met.'
