Four Quartets 2012

 

De gedichtencyclus ‘Four Quartets’ van T.S. Eliot is de inspiratiebron voor de serie van 4 x 4 kleine tekeningen. Ik heb uit de gehele cyclus een aantal coupletten uitgekozen.Eliots  gedichten dragen  achtereenvolgens de namen ‘Burnt Norton’, ‘East Coker’, ‘The Dry Salvages’ en ‘Little Gidding’. Het voert te ver om de gehele bundel te citeren maar deze citaten inspireerden mij tot het maken van de zestien tekeningen onder aan deze pagina. In de gedichten heb ik teksten van Eliot opgenomen. Deze zestien tekeningen zijn gemaakt met grafiet en pastel. In de headers van deze website zijn fragmenten van deze tekeningen terug te vinden.

 

BURNT NORTON           I   35-43

And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight
And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,
The surface glittered out of heart of light,
And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.
Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.
Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.

EAST COKER                   III   101-111

In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.

THE DRY SALVAGES 1 15 – 24

Now, we come to discover that the moments of agony
[…] are likewise permanent
With such permanence as time has. We appreciate this better
In the agony of others, nearly experienced,
Involving ourselves, than in our own.
For our own past is covered by the currents of action,
But the torment of others remains an experience
Unqualified, unworn by subsequent attrition.
People change, and smile: but the agony abides.
Time the destroyer is time the preserver.

LITTLE GIDDING V 224 – 231

Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,
Every poem an epitaph. And any action
Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea’s throat
Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.