REX
Oil on linen, 130 x 100 cm
By its gentle gesture there arose an instinct
I recognised a hand lift among the dead
Alone you did what a soldier would not dare do
You now descend with no fear or sorrow
We saw you arise, carried away by madness
Attached tightly by your hair to wreathes of iron
So which angel has led you across the solid fields
Go without stumbling, bending the air with your hands
D.Pearce
ABOUT:
In the beginning was the Dream.
I noticed him holding a sign on Sauchiehall St, Glasgow. It took me days to find courage to approach him and ask whether he would agree to pose for a painting.
He stood out from the crowd. His stillness was exceptional, almost transcendental, he was free of the daily noise of modern life, its complications, distractions, technologies. He didn’t belong to this century and at the same time he belonged to any century. There was timelessness in his eyes, he was the king and the pauper, above all, he was me, he was anyone, crystal clear version any man, any woman, when all the dust of daily modern life is removed.
I noticed him holding a sign on Sauchiehall St, Glasgow. It took me days to find courage to approach him and ask whether he would agree to pose for a painting.
He stood out from the crowd. His stillness was exceptional, almost transcendental, he was free of the daily noise of modern life, its complications, distractions, technologies. He didn’t belong to this century and at the same time he belonged to any century. There was timelessness in his eyes, he was the king and the pauper, above all, he was me, he was anyone, crystal clear version any man, any woman, when all the dust of daily modern life is removed.
He agreed to pose.
