Snow fell as they tramped
through the empty streets
of Berlin
What was in their hearts
protected them
from the bitter cold
And as they passed hand in hand
beneath the Brandenberg Gate
they felt invincible
Life is often what lies beneath
a landscape in which layers of love
have been laid to rest
John Lyons
A failed painting
can often be resuscitated
and that’s where the art lies :
one has to examine the dead canvas
and imagine how one can
breathe some sort of life into it
That’s why so many artists
are reluctant to let their work
leave the studio
they need to be certain
that what they have created
will have an existence all of its own
that it will stand the test of time
and require no explanation
or props to keep it alive
Just as one would not want to send
one’s children out into the world
vulnerable or defenceless
it’s an act of love
towards one’s creation
John Lyons
Certain terms
make me smile
action painting
for example
Every painting
ever done
is the result
of a series of actions
thought
word and deed
—and painting
is a language
Robert Motherwell
a highly literate artist
wrote
that he preferred
to see
rather than read
But what could he
possibly see
without reading
the language
in which
it was written ?
Art
is feeling
the integrity of feeling
: it comes through
in the radiance
of light
John Lyons
Robert Motherwell (1915-1991) was one of the youngest of the New York School, which also included Philip Guston, Willem de Kooning, Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko. This poem draws on a reading of The Collected Writings of Robert Motherwell, edited by Stephanie Terenzio.
The poet knew
that true love
is indissoluble
neither can it
be faked
Wild flowers
and vines and weeds
come up through
the headstones
that line the boundary wall
in the grounds
of St Mary Magdalen
in Bermondsey Street
The names engraved
on these sandstone markers
long gone to dust
and dead words hang
in the silence
What of the murmur
of dreams
what of the curious
systole and diastole
the beating and pounding
of blood in the veins
what of the cries
and the laughter
the husky pantings
of these lovers
now laid to rest ?
The poet knows
in the senses of his body
and in every limb
and in every breath
that love
is the pulse of life
John Lyons
The matrix painting may be hung in any of its four orientations. See Matrix in yellow and umber
Yesterday glorious sunshine :
my son and I sat in the garden
all afternoon and cooked chicken
on the barbecue
I brought my canvas out briefly
and laid it on a table
added some flourishes
of greens and yellows and reds
At its heart
the golden triangle is preserved
also the city skyline running
along the bottom edge
This morning I noticed
that as the paint is drying
some of the colours have dulled down
where there was sunshine
the composition is a little overcast
Outside it has just begun to rain
and I realise that my canvas
is sensitive to the weather
I’m also aware that my best work
was done when we were in love
John Lyons
Revised
It goes without saying that the photos accompanying these poems give an approximate representation. A professional photographer would be better able to capture the vibrancy of the colours.
What we sometimes forget
that there are many versions
many attempts to get it right
many stages where we appear
to be getting nowhere and where
in fact we are getting nowhere
there are setbacks
and misunderstandings
and hurtful things can be said
and done on both sides
so there is a time to forgive
and a time to ask for forgiveness
This is my largest project to date
seventy by fifty centimetres
and this is the second phase of under-painting
over a jagged wash of 3 colours
a landscape in which you and I
get to live out the rest of our days
in peace in harmony
and in love
John Lyons
The past is another country
the under-painting obliterated
for better or worse
I have moved on
and with the application
of simple colours
I have created a matrix
of sorts
large patches of cadmium yellow
smaller patches of raw umber
on a background of thinly applied
cadmium red diluted with liquin
I love the haphazard nature
of moving paint
with a palette knife
so capturing the moment
life as it is breathed
and the motions quick
and almost automatic
so that the hand obeys
the eye
rather than the brain
these paintings may
mean nothing
to the spectator
but to me they are
distillations of my life
and represent
at the same time
fragments of discovery
of who I am
of what my purpose is
and what constitutes love
and very much more
John Lyons
The under-painting
was more complex
more contrived
had more definable colours
occupied the whole
of the canvas
What’s presented here
is a stripped back version
paint removed
by the application of turpentine
and a rub with a rag
so that the initial gestures
of the first intentions
are not shrouded by excess
Here the daub
is actually a disapplication
to leave virtually nothing
but the bare bones
It’s a messy canvas
because life is messy
Cadmium yellow
is the colour of love
and love as we all know
is messy too
John Lyons
September rain
the pavements
strewn with leaves
a dampness
that reeks of decay
the dwindling light
of a year winding down
after a long hot summer
And yet there is a comfort
in these relentless cycles
all life and death
in a nutshell
the lush green fields
the swollen rivers
the long trails of birds
flying south
while the rest of us
batten down the hatches
And she is constantly
in my mind
her hair the rich colour
of autumn
her eyes too
the beauty that lies
beneath the pale skin
the love
that makes life
worth living
John Lyons
All from atoms
the roses I brought her
the champagne—
she trimmed the stems
of the flowers
and placed them in a vase
I opened the champagne
and poured it into glasses
We toasted
and we kissed
two bodies touching
and in this way
peace was made
sadness was banished
and for a while longer
she loved me
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 