***
I samband med London-OS genomförde National Gallery olika samarbetsprojekt med andra kulturinstitutioner, bland annat en balettföreställning inspirerad av Tizians konstverk av Diana och Actaeon. De bjöd också in fjorton poeter till att skriva nya dikter om något av de tre konstverken, eller så kunde de inspireras av Ovidius diktverk Metamorphoses - det som varit Tizians inspirationskälla.
Jag har nu i min ägo det häfte som sammanställdes efter utställningens genomförande. Projektet pågick från 11 juli till 23 september 2012. Det är ett underbart litet häfte med bakgrundsmaterial och samtliga fjorton dikter.
Det var prominenta brittiska poeter som bjöds in, bland dem Carol Ann Duffy, Seamus Heaney och Christopher Reid. Men jag har valt ut tre exempel som är skrivna av andra författare, och jag inleder med den som föll mig mest i smaken.
 |
| Diana and Actaeon, 1556-59 by Titian (sv. Tizian) |
Diana and Actaeon, by Simon Armitage
(From Metamorphosis : poems inspired by Titian. London : National Gallery, 2012.)
The whole hillside being smeared and daubed
with the blood of the hunt, I dropped down
to a stream whose water ran clear and cool,
and followed its thread through a wooded fold,
among branches dressed with pelts and skulls.
Then stumbled headlong into that sacred grove.
That’s when the universe pitched and groaned,
and I shrank from cloud-coloured flesh,
from calf and hip, curve and cleft,
from a writhing feast of fruit and meat:
salmon, silverside, redcurrant, peach;
from fingers worming for gowns and robes,
from eel and oyster, ankle and lip,
from bulb, bud, honeycomb, nest… And flinched
from Diana’s arm bent back like a bow,
and flinched from Diana’s naked glare –
a death-stare arrowed from eye to eye.
All seen in a blink but burnt on the mind.
The pink-red curtain of noon, drawn back,
unleashes the white wolves of the moon.
***
Målningen "Diana och Callisto" porträtterar ögonblicket när gudinnan Diana upptäcker att hennes jungfru är gravid och fader är guden Jupiter.
 |
| Diana and Callisto, 1556-59 by Titian (sv. Tizian) |
The dark, by Lavinia Greenlaw
(From Metamorphosis : poems inspired by Titian. London : National Gallery, 2012.)
What was I in their story? The dark.
An electric unknown, a girl
who slipped off the path and found
herself alone in the forest's locked room,
who set aside her quiver and bow
and lay down. When I woke
the world was in bright version.
I believed what I saw. He was not
what I saw. My body opened.
It was not my body. I became
a question that must not be asked
of the gods. I grew ripe with it.
I lost my place, my people.
I took the white ribbon from my hair.
Yet to her I was still what lit him.
She reached down and obscured my form.
My voice at first gaudy with argument
took on a rip, wrench and boom.
My body warped and cracked.
I was sinew and claw, my odour
that of a crowded cave in winter.
I was night torn from day.
I ran to escape my own shadow.
The beasts of the forest drove me out.
The villagers barred their doors.
The gods turned the page.
***
Den tredje texten har hämtat inspiration från Ovidius Metamorphoses, den tredje delen. I den beskrivs hur Actaeon får se Diana naken och vilka konsekvenser det får. (Se första konstverket ovan.)
Dikten formar sig till Don Patersons introverta tidsspegel.
A call, by Don Paterson
(From Metamorphosis : poems inspired by Titian. London : National Gallery, 2012.)
Ovid, Metamorphoses, III
A winter train. A gale, a poacher's moon.
The black glass. Do I honestly still blame
the wrong turn in the changing rooms I took
when I was six, and stood too long to look?
The scream Miss Venner loosed at me. 'The nerve!'
I was ablaze. And it was worth the shame,
I thought; of course I did. It was to soon
to tell the dream from what I'd paid for it.
The soon to late. Two sides of the same door.
So was it the recoil or the release
that lashed the world so out of shape? Tonight
I stare right through the face that I deserve
as all my ghost dogs gather at the shore,
behind them the whole sea like the police.
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar