As the morning steals upon the night
– The Tempest
Night, day, flowers, birds and nature are important elements of Shakespeare’s world. I read the line above from The Tempest and felt what Nabokov called a shiver down the spine:
Although we read with our minds, the seat of artistic delight is between the shoulder blades. That little shiver behind is quite certainly the highest form of emotion that humanity has attained when evolving pure art and pure science. Let us worship the spine and its tingle.
I knew I could do something with those words. It doesn’t happen immediately. I play around with images, recall my photographs, try this, try that, until something emerges. Outside, you are passive and appreciative. Indoors, you create something similar to a painting. I like doing both. I’m disappointed after a walking holiday, back in the city; but this changes the balance.
The view is a Scottish river near Glencoe, morning light illuminating the leaves. I was camping nearby. The pomegranate tree, lark, nightingale and balcony are from another play, surely you know it, while Prospero the magician enters the scene.