Tuesday, October 13, 2015

October 13

Blake's prints about Paradise Lost


  1. William Blake on Paradise Lost by Milton

    The true
    Meaning and
    the true nature
    of the Divine
    where story is told
    with symbols
    about the Creation
    As the serpent is not
    necessarily Satan
    But, the fact we are
    curious creatures and
    desire with interest override
    the laws of God, who stated,
    From that tree, you shall not
    eat and when paradise was
    perfect and Adam and Eve
    did not know anything
    but the perfect
    Then, the serpent, chided
    To make her wonder why?
    or better still
    Why not? eat from the tree
    The intrigue of being told not
    to do something
    Like any child
    Wonders about the result
    But, not fully realizing
    The consequences
    As the apple was sweet
    and tasted immeasurably
    good, but, in her mind having
    been told not to eat from the fruit
    Had to spit it out
    With guilt already
    setting in
    As the paradise we
    once knew as perfect
    Was now tainted and
    Incomplete and now
    was lost for all who
    tasted from the tree
    of knowledge
    Came the bitter taste
    of guilt as we bite the apple
    daily wanting and wondering
    Why not?
    Just as Eve did on that
    fateful day
    Casting all of humanity
    into the land of toil and
    hard work without perfect
    With only burden and guilt
    The paradise we once had
    Was now lost, forever

    1. You're really engaged with Blake and Milton here! Great!

    2. i like the tangle of this and the line "with the guilt already setting in" is awesome.

    3. I was not acquainted with either artist and felt the only way I could try to get a sense was to take the work literally as to the meaning of Milton with Paradise Lost it was too long and boring the way he wrote it, and to my take on Blake was the images really moved me to write about the original sin, yet may have inserted to much of my own religious meaning into the prints.

  2. you know what?
    hell is boring
    so is eden unless
    you have a third person
    watching -- then, it's kind of
    hot, but still without that serpent
    voyeur guy -- also boring.
    i wish something would happen
    don't you?
    i know! let's leave.
    i'll eat that red thing, and that'll open
    up the barrier and we can get
    the heck out
    see what is UP
    with all this work
    and death
    and stuff.
    i've heard of this thing
    called free will.
    Let's TRY it
    and see what

  3. there's something so marvelously empty about these blake illustrations. I love how muscular everyone is, but still.... it's all very static.

    I also find Milton extremely boring, and actually stopped going to the freshman college lectures on him which were given by this very poindextery professor at my college. I had a classmate tell me when we'd moved on to to Dryden. AND my story about this actually gets better.... but I need to tell it to you not email.

    1. Dryden I hated too, but loved the professor! And you're right about Blake!

  4. yes, with dryden we got the fabulous hale and hearty Restoration professor, and that's when I began to fall in love with the literature of that period, aka the long 18th century. and my mom loved william blake, and could recite part of tyger tyger. so i felt like i knew him already when i got to him in the survey course.

    i'm wondering what other people's encounters with william blake have been like?

    1. Great things are done when men and mountains meet ~William Blake

  5. Tainted Paradise

    From the beginning it seems
    paradide was already lost
    a debt was already owed
    the burdens of cost
    its images hollow
    too many shades of gray
    its aura of emptiness
    of losing one's way
    a shadow is always there
    raining on man's parade
    the dark cloud of sin
    and all man-made
    then a promise emerges
    from the dusky hue
    a redeemer in their midst
    and for all of us too
    this story's visual
    is grainy and faded
    like the hearts of all humans
    jagged and jaded
    the example is ugly
    and we Don't want to see
    but that's what happens
    when paradise is lost for you and me

    1. Uggg!!! Really a typo in the second line????????? Don't look at it

    2. Excellent imagery, I love the end when the Crucifixion is too hard for us to see because of the brutality and the fact we refuse to look, because of the burden when paradise is lost for you and me. By the way, this interpretation may or may not be what you had intended.

    3. You nailed it! I'm so glad I my intention came through

    4. a deep well described and poetic dark. thx

  6. I felt like the colors Blake used gave off a vibe of paradise lost, before it was ever found. So I used that concept.

  7. I'm not a Christian, but I dug that shadow!

    1. I'll write about faith anytime! I'm glad you liked it♥

  8. Paradise lost is a tiresome tale
    Of Punishment
    Devil, sin, victim
    A tale of small

    Can Blake salvage
    This loser mind
    To serve

    In printmaking
    Detail survives
    Repeated ink wave
    Arriving in commoner hand.

    Now Paradise victim
    Is beyond puppeteer angst
    Freed to imagine
    One’s own pondered view.

  9. Satan watches
    Adam and Eve adoring embrace
    Jealous of love

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  11. William Blake crafted characters
    in a well-worn sketchbook.
    Shaping, cajoling, polishing his
    etches into splendid human forms.

    Grecian-marble skin
    stretched tight over pectorally
    correct abdominals
    sculpted with beauteous torsos
    atop clenched buttocks and
    limber legs with anatomically
    correct muscles. Fingers tapered
    with precision as did the detail
    disappearing between their toes.

    Once completed, a few Beings were
    released into a heavenly setting
    while others tumbled straight
    into chains and purgatory.

    All were bewildered by this
    artistic justice, caught in
    an eternity of right and wrong,
    where the creamy paper air
    was flushed with a hint of rose.

    Sinners, downcast angels,
    bland faces of judgement were
    common in their father’s world.
    Shadows could exist, but no
    other blemish or complexity.

    Yearning was in everyone’s eyes;
    “I was impulsive, a juvenile
    are there no second chances?”
    “I am too old to be so bad.”
    They pleaded for redemption,
    desiring a quick release from
    their parchment prison.

    It was a fraud of perpetual
    black and white simplicity,
    an unkind, twisted plot.
    Call it faith or hope, but
    t’was not an easy reality.

    Blake fell asleep on his illustrated
    manuscript, awakening in his
    own projection of peace after death,
    discovering that the most
    magical world had been Earth,
    fraught with ugliness, but more choice.
    He eventually met Poet Milton,
    face-to-face. The two of them were
    last seen together, in a corner,
    plotting how the hell
    they’d get out of the place.