A window partitioned into nine squares.
The top three frame the sky with loftiness.
A summer-haze gives rise to grand affairs;
a cathedral of blue with gold finesse.
Three black umbrellas, from central casting,
flank the populated panes; overhang
a series of light lunches, short lasting
courses: round plates, round tables; ying and yang.
A long list of legs fill the bottom panes
with passing trade; pedestrian traffic;
litany of litter and gravy-stains;
a base-load of footsteps; demographic.
. Plain-glass windows with horizontal stretch.
. Nine squares, three rows… a panoramic sketch.
© Tim Grace, 21 January 2014
To the reader: Window frames define space. Some selectively give border to a scene; while others set no limits to a vista. Either way, a sheet of squared glass delineates one view-point from another; inside from out; here from there. This invisible but very physical medium is a lens through which we look out upon a passing parade.
To the poet: Another observational sonnet. In most cases, my poetic outlook is uninterrupted, I see through the structural frames of reference to focus on a scene of interest. In this case, I was obviously struck by the window’s pre-defined partition of the visual arrangement. One large window; a tessellation of space: nine squares, three rows … a panoramic sketch.
At Tate Modern on the South Bank (of the Thames) the large windows at the top work both ways. They give several tryptychs of St Paul’s, the river, the bridge etc. When you are outside looking up you get pictures of tiny figures in each one, some sitting, some standing (because they’re actually in the cafe/restaurant looking out) It is quite amazing as far as i am concerned – free art.
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Art in exhibition: bird in cage, butterfly in net. Art is ‘in’ what we see… for those who look.
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