Wednesday, July 25, 2018

Neutral Shades of Paint Dating from the Nineteen Fifties

Prunella Clough
Cooling Tower II
1958
oil on canvas
Tate Gallery

Barbara Hepworth
Forms (West Penwith)
1958
oil on hardboard
Tate Gallery

William Scott
Ochre Still Life
1958
oil on canvas
Tate Gallery

On The Subject of Poetry

I do not understand the world, Father.
By the millpond at the end of the garden
There is a man who slouches listening
To the wheel revolving in the stream, only
There is no wheel there to revolve.

He sits in the end of March, but he sits also
In the end of the garden; his hands are in
His pockets. It is not expectation
On which he is intent, nor yesterday
To which he listens. It is a wheel turning.

When I speak, Father, it is the world
That I must mention. He does not move
His feet nor so much as raise his head
For fear he should disturb the sound he hears
Like a pain without a cry, where he listens.

I do not think I am fond, Father,
Of the way in which always before he listens
He prepares himself by listening. It is
Unequal, Father, like the reason
For which the wheel turns, though there is no wheel.

I speak of him, Father, because he is
There with his hands in his pockets, in the end
Of the garden listening to the turning
Wheel that is not there, but it is in the world,
Father, that I do not understand.

– W.S. Merwin, from The Dancing Bears (Yale University Press, 1954)

Victor Pasmore
Spiral Motif in Green, Violet, Blue and Gold - The Coast of the Inland Sea
1950
oil on canvas
Tate Gallery

Terry Frost
Winter 1956 Yorkshire
1956
oil on board
Tate Gallery

Terry Frost
Black and White Movement
1952
oil on board
Tate Gallery

Sandra Blow
Space and Matter
1959
oil on hardboard
Tate Gallery

Lilian Holt
Tajo Ronda
1956
oil on canvas
Tate Gallery

Ivon Hitchens
Woodland Vertical and Horizontal
1958
oil on canvas
Tate Gallery

Pantoum

Eyes shining without mystery,
Footprints eager for the past
Through the vague snow of many clay pipes,
And what is in store?

Footprints eager for the past,
The usual obtuse blanket.
And what is in store
For those dearest to the king?

The usual obtuse blanket
Of legless regrets and amplifications
For those dearest to the king.
Yes, sirs, connoisseurs of oblivion,

Of legless regrets and amplifications,
That is why a watchdog is shy.
Yes, sirs, connoisseurs of oblivion,
These days are short, brittle; there is only one night.

That is why the watchdog is shy,
Why the court, trapped in a silver storm, is dying.
These days are short, brittle; there is only one night
And that soon gotten over.

Why, the court, trapped in a silver storm, is dying!
Some blunt pretense to safety we have
And that soon gotten over
For they must have motion.

Some blunt pretense to safety we have:
Eyes shining without mystery
For they must have motion
Through the vague snow of many clay pipes.

– John Ashbery, from Some Trees (Yale University Press, 1956)

Roger Hilton
January 1957
1957
oil on canvas
Tate Gallery

Russell Drysdale
War Memorial
1950
oil on canvas
Tate Gallery

Josef Herman
Three Miners
1953
oil on panel
Tate Gallery

Anthony Whishaw
Corrida
1955-56
oil on canvas
Tate Gallery

Judit Reigl
Guano
1958-62
oil on canvas
Tate Gallery