Songs of Innocence
(A Clue from William Blake)
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Presents
The Galatea OnLine Gallery
June 10, 2020
11th Edition
As we find the world in a state of chaos
the
potential for growth and rebirth is becoming realized.
Never before has there existed such an immense polarity of hope and despair, and we are teetering on a pinpoint between the dissolving of life's protocols as we know them and the opportunity for a restructuring and re-balancing of justice and collective well-being.
This was also William Blake's world. Both "Songs of Innocence" and "Songs of Experience" (our next edition) were written in 1789. In fact, in July of 1789, on the 14th, the
French Revolution
began with the Storming of the Bastille. In September of the same year, the
United States' Bill of Rights
was proposed.
As we make our way out of the Covid-19 Pandemic we are cutting through similar patterns of social and personal complacency. We have come to appreciate our communities, yet the awareness of injustice is coming to a head and it is unacceptable.
In Blake's world, innocence is born of experience and cannot exist without this polarity. Similarly, in the realms of experience, innocence is the light that ensures life and salvation.
In this edition of the Galatea OnLine Gallery,
8 members' works are paired with a poem from Blake's "Songs of Innocence"
. The works resonate as songs within themselves, octaves of memory, fields of mindful irony. We gravitate towards the intrinsic betterment of our natures.
-Marjorie Kaye
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She stares out of a prison of an unknown making, complacent in her captivity. The woman's image in this construction seems unaware that time is passing. Once she was young and the world was open. Now she guards hidden memories.
Joe Caruso,
Emily
, Mixed Media, 5 x 13.5 x 16.5 inches, $350.00
HOLY THURSDAY
’Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
The children walking two and two, in red and blue and green,
Grey-headed beadles walk'd before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul’s they like Thames' waters flow.
O what a multitude they seem'd, these flowers of London town!
Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own.
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
Now like a mighty wind they raise to Heaven the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of Heaven among.
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor;
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
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Anyone familiar with the movie "Metropolis" will recognize the figure ascending from the pyramid. This is the prototype of the innocent woman of good intentions, who is transformed into a metallic faithless, soulless icon of herself. It is the plunging of ourselves into the realms of survival and industry that corrupts our intrinsic purity at times.
James Cole,
King of Air
, Oil on Canvas, 30 x 30 inches, 2020, $1,000.00
A DREAM
Once a dream did weave a shade
O’er my Angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, 'wilder'd, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangled spray,
All heart-broke I heard her say:
‘O, my children! do they cry?
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see:
Now return and weep for me.’
Pitying, I dropp'd a tear;
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied: ‘What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?
‘I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle’s hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home.’
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Dance for joy, unaware of the certain abyss, as we have this moment only in which to attest to the Universe.
Youngsheen A. Jhe,
Delight
, Oil on Canvas, 10 x 20 inches, $950.00
LAUGHING SONG
When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;
When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,
When Mary and Susan and Emily
With their sweet round mouths sing ‘Ha, Ha, He!’
When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread,
Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of ‘Ha, Ha, He!’
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Figures make their way out of an abyss, magnetized by an abundance of optimism. There is wisdom in experience, which hatches the innocence of new beginnings.
Iwalani Kaluhiokalani,
Lark in Sky
, Oil on Canvas, 24 x 20 inches
SPRING
Sound the flute!
Now it’s mute.
Birds delight
Day and night;
Nightingale
In the dale,
Lark in sky,
Merrily,
Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.
Little boy,
Full of joy;
Little girl,
Sweet and small;
Cock does crow,
So do you;
Merry voice,
Infant noise,
Merrily, merrily, to welcome in the year.
Little lamb,
Here I am;
Come and lick
My white neck;
Let me pull
Your soft wool;
Let me kiss
Your soft face;
Merrily, merrily, we welcome in the year.
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From a twilight place between day and night, waking and sleeping come the fractiles of conciousness. Before words were ever spoken, manifestation of thought occurred in the formation of the crystalline symbol.
Marjorie Kaye,
Points of Departure
, Gouache on Plywood, 13 x 22.5 inches, 2020, $1,500.00
THE LAMB
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life & bid thee feed
By the stream & o’er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, wooly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee:
He is callèd by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb.
He is meek, & he is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, & thou a lamb,
We are callèd by his name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
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In the throes of time our faces change and reflect the silent shifting of expression that illustrates the moment. We turn from youth to age in the space of a minute, an illusion that veils eternity.
Ronni Komarow,
Mood Swinging
, Accordion Book - Drypoint Etching with Collage and Mixed Media, 6 x 9 inch panels, $750.00
THE ECHOING GREEN
The Sun does arise,
And make happy the skies;
The merry bells ring
To welcome the Spring;
The skylark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around
To the bells’ cheerful sound,
While our sports shall be seen
On the Echoing Green.
Old John, with white hair,
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak,
Among the old folk.
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say:
‘Such, such were the joys
When we all, girls & boys,
In our youth time were seen
On the echoing green.’
Till the little ones, weary,
No more can be merry;
The sun does descend,
And our sports have an end.
Round the laps of their mothers
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest,
And sport no more seen
On the darkening Green.
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"When you come to a fork in the road, take it" - Yogi Berra
This piece by Matthew Peake speaks to the unknown. We are presented with paths and can only rely on faith in the moment, as we watch it unfold.
Matthew Peake,
Walking and Thinking
, Collage, 12 x 9 inches, 2020, NFS (prints available)
THE LITTLE BOY FOUND
The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
Led by the wand'ring light,
Began to cry; but God, ever nigh,
Appear'd like his father, in white.
He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
And to his mother brought,
Who in sorrow pale, thro' the lonely dale,
Her little boy weeping sought.
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Encounter the many layers of innocence. Realizations emerge, only to be thrown back into the lake of consciousness like fish that are too small. But our understanding grows and this earthly realm appears as a developing playground for the soul's ascending.
James C. Varnum,
Red Meditation
, Alcohol Inks and Ink, 9 x 12 inches, 2020, $400.00
NIGHT
The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight.
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen, they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.
And there the lion’s ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold,
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold,
Saying: ‘Wrath, by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness
Is driven away
From our immortal day.
‘And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep;
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee and weep.
For, wash'd in life’s river
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold
As I guard o’er the fold.
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As galleries prepare to reinstate their schedules
, they are re-making them concurrently. Galatea, along with other galleries affected not only by Covid-19, but by devastating flooding, must navigate a "long and winding road" back to some semblance of normality. As it has been said, the old normal no longer exists. We make new paths and consider the future an exploration.
When the coast is clear, you can be sure that we will be there continuing our lively exhibition schedule, and we will keep you updated.
Again,
we appreciate
all the support and love that you have shared with us over the last decade and look forward to moving beyond this with you.
We are happy to work with you
on a purchase of artwork shown here, or answer any questions you might have. In this time when artists of all genres are struggling to keep their practice going,
your support is especially valued.
For sales inquiries
, please contact Marjorie Kaye at
[email protected]
. Our artists will be happy to ship the work to you at a cost to be determined.
To all
, and in particular the SOWA community, artists of all kinds, and those that support us, we are strong and will survive. May all blessings, health, happiness, strength, wisdom, art and love be our gift.
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Hours: Wed-Sun, 12-5pm
and by appointment
Contact: Marjorie Kaye
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