I made this piece with the old Swedish fairy tale ‘The Abduction’ in mind. The story goes that a young girl went to the woods to gather fir cones. Feeling tired she sat down next to a hill and as she leant against the rock it opened up and she was invited inside by the king of the mountain. All night she danced and feasted with the beautiful people, but in the morning she woke up outside the hill with her basket of fir cones.
‘I must have been dreaming’, she told herself and walked home. But a new family now lived in her old house and she didn’t recognise anyone in the village. Nobody knew her. Finally an old man said he had heard stories about an old couple who had lost their daughter in the woods many years ago when he was a child.
The main piece is smoke fired ceramics on top of a reclaimed british oak beam held together by a recycled gas pipe
Sculpture by Anna Keiller, poem by Abraham Gibson
The Abduction
A kiss is a weapon
it can strike you
Or stand guard… about your world
Loneliness is not bitter
if there is
… sun light in your soul
We do not care for summer
the birds chatter too loudly
the branches
… steal light
from the sky
Music is not ours
if we cannot hear its heart beat
love is not content
if we…
cannot hear its sigh
He found her sensuality
beautiful / disturbing
it reached him…
through her breath
over miles
and
across streams
The sun filtered
through the trees
like ribbons
The deeper he ventured
into the forest
the tighter
the ribbons
wrapped around his veins!
Be my soldier
Be my king
Hold me while I sleep
Be my soldier
Be my king!
Madness is a holding fast
and a letting go
His melancholy a dance with pain
that aches with hope
How do you keep a song quiet
that entices your every mood
if he could hear this music…
Who else could?
Their meeting place
was stained
ram shackled
danced over
And she has never been seen again
half of his mind…
still waits for her
half of his mind!
half of his mind
is being chased by the grief
Be my soldier
be my king
Be my soldier
be my king!
‘I must have been dreaming’, she told herself and walked home. But a new family now lived in her old house and she didn’t recognise anyone in the village. Nobody knew her. Finally an old man said he had heard stories about an old couple who had lost their daughter in the woods many years ago when he was a child.
Their meeting place
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