Things sometimes come together in a way that feels right. Sometimes those things are disparate. A paper plate, a Gelli-plate and thoughts of a corvid trap.
Whilst out walking, we came across one of the latter – a most vile and pointless cruelty, whose legality both revolts, infuriates and saddens me – and the corvid family has been on my mind ever since.
A fusion of the pathetic and the banal resulted.
I had a paper plate partly cut up from another project, and I have a Gelli-plate. I began playing with the moon-like circle and having lost several nights to worrying about a trapped bird and my own inadequate attempts to set it free, (I think it may have spent its life incarcerated as it was bigger than the trapdoor) I pondered on poems that are written from the perspective of the heightened anxiety of the small hours.
Edward Lewis Davison’s sonnet and its reflections on unrequited love is one of my favourite poems. The paper plate, a spray of exhausted Procion, and strips of just-lying-about collograph.
A corvid thermofax screen I have had for a while, more exhausted Procion sprayed , the paper plate as print and mask, and the words of Ted Hughes.
The crow, the paper plate, sprayed Procion and old Gelli-plate prints with words from Mark Twain.
The raven and ink drawing on gelli-plate print. Ravens can live for 20 years and they mate for life. To cage them in a space too small to unfurl their wings, alone and without shelter is barbaric. To do so in order to attract their fellows to their death is medieval.