Sometimes,
the storytellers hanging out in the marketplace, the quaint pub/shop the old
house or railway station are the objects, themselves. Antiques that offer
through artistic detail, inscriptions, place of discovery or some knowledge of
their personal lineage, the vestiges of a story. And the rest is either
revealed through research or the beholder/owner's imagination. The inanimate
trouvère, on one hand hints at its tale in silence, but on the other, inspires
the observer to complete or reinvent its history.
To wake things up that are in him..
George Macdonald
There are centuries of
us
silent
and heirloomed -- left
in
half-timbered shops, temple ruins,
the
spider-veiled cellar or eaves. We are given
our song
by use or scene. By those
who
shadow the vase, linens, lamp,
ink
well, parchment, or book.
And oh! yes, that powder horn found
in the
barn's loft, abandoned
with blonde
strands of hair
clinging
to its strap. Goshawk wings
sketched
along its sallow bone. What woman
shot a
firearm and why --
or did
she simply fill the thing
to
save her husband time?
The
tale remains sparse, spoken
through
etching, wisp and place.
The
rest revealed
by
hand and eye that mold
its
shape into a chapter.
Whatever
scenario
gives
the relic a relatable
air, an intimate ghost.
__________________________________________
The artwork is a detail of a larger work by 19th C. illustrator, Arthur Rackham,
from his "Ring of The Nibelung" collection.
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