Winged Life

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Winged Life: William Blake’s Mystic Visions & Stunning Paintings

William Blake’s paintings are especially stunning when you see them close up.

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William Blake (1757–1827), one of the greatest poets in the English language, also ranks among the most original visual artists of the Romantic era. For Blake, the Bible was the greatest work of poetry ever written, and comprised the basis of true art.

For a slideshow of 47 paintings by William Blake, go to:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/yourpaintings/artists/william-blake

For William Blake’s Complete Works, go to his archive at http://www.blakearchive.org/blake/indexworks.htm


William Blake’s Visions

From a young age, William Blake claimed to have seen visions. The first may have occurred as early as the age of four when, according to one anecdote, the young artist “saw God” when God “put his head to the window”. .. At the age of eight or ten in Peckham Rye, London, Blake claimed to have seen “a tree filled with angels, bright angelic wings bespangling every bough like stars.” On another occasion, Blake watched haymakers at work, and thought he saw angelic figures walking among them. As a young apprentice, he was sent to copy images from the Gothic churches in London. Blake experienced visions in the Westminster Abbey, he saw Christ and his Apostles and a great procession of monks and priests and heard their chant.

Blake claimed to experience visions throughout his life. They were often associated with beautiful religious themes and imagery, and may have inspired him further with spiritual works and pursuits. Certainly, religious concepts and imagery figure centrally in Blake’s works. God and Christianity constituted the intellectual centre of his writings, from which he drew inspiration. Blake believed he was personally instructed and encouraged by Archangels to create his artistic works, which he claimed were actively read and enjoyed by the same Archangels.

In a letter of condolence to William Hayley, dated 6 May 1800, four days after the death of Hayley’s son, Blake wrote:

I know that our deceased friends are more really with us than when they were apparent to our mortal part. Thirteen years ago I lost a brother, and with his spirit I converse daily and hourly in the spirit, and see him in my remembrance, in the region of my imagination. I hear his advice, and even now write from his dictate.

In a letter to John Flaxman, dated 21 September 1800, Blake wrote:

[The town of] Felpham is a sweet place for Study, because it is more spiritual than London. Heaven opens here on all sides her golden Gates; her windows are not obstructed by vapours; voices of Celestial inhabitants are more distinctly heard, & their forms more distinctly seen; & my Cottage is also a Shadow of their houses. My Wife & Sister are both well, courting Neptune for an embrace… I am more famed in Heaven for my works than I could well conceive. In my Brain are studies & Chambers filled with books & pictures of old, which I wrote & painted in ages of Eternity before my mortal life; & those works are the delight & Study of Archangels.

Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.

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A favourite scene by an all-time favourite film-maker of spiritual quest: The Sacrifice (Offret) by A.Tarkovsky 1986 – PRAYER: The Lord’s Prayer. The scene poignantly illustrates the power of faith and self-sacrifice.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4z8Y-NpW1c

The Sacrifice, Tarkovsky’s swan song, tells in esoteric terms of Christian iconography, masterly mise-en-scène, and astounding use of sound composition, of a literary critic, once an actor (Josephson), who promises to give up everything ‘that connects him with the world’ in a bid to save it from the impending nuclear holocaust he hears announced on television.

A Cage

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I feel like a bird trapped in a small birdcage,

A birdcage hidden at the bottom of a dark basement.

And all I want to do is break out of the blackness,

And fly into the Sonlight which waits outside.

I can feel it, the Light –

It’s all around the basement.

The Light is greater than the basement.

All I want to do is get into that Light,

And loose myself in it.

But it is an impossible task – I can’t get out.

And the thick, murky black air closes in…

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I feel like I’m in a room with invisible walls.

But it’s so black in the room,

That I can’t see through the walls.

And I am the centre of the room.

Where I go, the room goes – I can’t get out.

I wish someone would chain the room still,

So I could get out into the Light outside.

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Oh Jesus, You are the Light of the world.

Please shatter this darkened prison I live in,

And take me into Your light.

Let it consume me, encompass me, surround me.

Let me become one with You, You in me, me in You.

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http://cornerstonethefoundation.blogspot.gr/p/depression-poems.html

…

The Robin

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Matthew 6:26  “Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feds them. Are you not of more value than they?”

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The robin hopped out of the hedgerow

To say “hello”.

He displayed his blood red breast

Head tilted and inquisitive.

He looked with meekness at

The giant that stood before him.

This little bird was bold in his quest for food.

Unafraid, he made his holy dance in the snow.

The prints of his path traced a pattern of expectant joy.

This little creature paused to look at me,

Utter reliant on what God supplies.

Were you there at Calvary, Robin?

Did you stop to gaze on Him who made you?

God knows.

This little icon of apostolic zeal brings warmth

To those who on Christmas day smile at his cheery coat.

Would that we too too could be such a disciple,

Living on God’s Providence.

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To the Glory of God

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“Love the One, so that even wild beasts will love you.”

Elder Amphilochios

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By Father Jonathan Hemmings

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To my little friend who so encouraged me on the Theotokos Nativity Forefeast!

Numb, Joyless, Desolate

 

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Mother of God,

Here I stand now praying

Before this ikon of your radiant brightness,

Not praying to be saved from a battlefield;

Not giving thanks nor seeking forgiveness for the sins of my soul,

Nor for all the souls.

Numb, joyless and desolate on earth;

But for her alone, whom I wholly give you.

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Hymn on the morning of our Lady’s Nativity

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqsMBX9Kxm4

Banquet for Worms

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II.

Who put me in this bed of worms? Who buried me in the dust, to become a neighbor of snakes and a banquet for worms?

Who pushed me off the high mountain, to become a companion of bloodthirsty and godless men?

My sin and Your justice, O Lord. My sin stretches from the creation of the world, and it is swifter than Your justice.

I count my sins throughout my entire life, throughout the life of my father and all the way back to the beginning of the world, and I say: Truly, the name of the Lord’s justice is mercy.

I bear the wounds of my fathers on myself-wounds that I myself was preparing while I was still in my fathers—and now they have all appeared on my soul, like a spotted hide on a giraffe, like a cloak of vicious scorpions that sting me.

Have mercy on me, O Lord, open the floodgate of the heavenly river of Your grace, and cleanse me of leprous evil, so that without this leprosy I may dare to proclaim Your name before the other lepers without them ridiculing me.

At least raise me up by a head above the rotten stench of this bed of worms, to inhale the incense of heaven and return to life.

At least raise me up as high as a palm tree so I can laugh at the serpents chasing my heels.

O Lord, if there has been even one good deed in the course of my earthly journey, for the sake of that one deed deliver me from the companionship of bloodthirsty and godless men.

O Lord, my hope in despair.

O Lord, my strength in weakness.

O Lord, my light in darkness.

Place just one finger on my forehead and I shall be raised. Or, if I am too unclean for Your finger, let a single ray of light from Your kingdom shine upon me and raise me-raise me, from this bed of worms, O my beloved Lord.

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The Pearl

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O Lord, Almighty, aid me! Grains of sand

Their way inside me ceaselessly find

Afflictions provoke my widow heart

Harass me, vex me, pester and grind.

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May your beautiful veil over

My soul drape, Thy Love wrap.

Forgive, hapless soul,

Pardon, evade the trap.

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O, may resentment and anguish desert,

O, may my wounds be moulded to pearls.

Thy Grace, Redeemer, my soul of thorn

Heal, pray, aid me, suffer Thy nails.

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Like Your Glory Resplendent on Cross,

Assist me, Redeemer, to die with Thee.

O, bless, sweet Jesus, restrain, impede

Prevent me an oyster barren to be!

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THE PEARL: SEVEN HYMNS ON THE FAITH

By St. Ephraim of Syria — Translated by J.B. Morris

http://www.voskrese.info/spl/pearl.html

” …Shadowed forth in thy beauty is the beauty of the Son,
Who clothed Himself with suffering when the nails passed through Him.
The awl passed in thee since they handled thee roughly,
As they did His hands;
And because He suffered He reigned,
As by they sufferings thy beauty increased … “

(c) University of Exeter, Fine Art Collection; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

Mud and Wax

This week, my Lord, mud I became,

Broken and fractured, cracked mud.

All my bones, Out of joint,

Mud I became, cracked mud.

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Too fierce the heat,

Too scorching inferno.

The sun beat down

Beat down on me.

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Oh, through fire I went

And I dried

Withered away

And I cracked.

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Oh, would Your Grace softly wrap me,

When I walk through fire and tears

Oh, would my heart not crack but soften

Melt at Your fire like wax.

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Might Your blaze thaw me and melt me,

Mould me like wax under the seal

Engrave me, Heavenly Jeweller, Engrave Your signet

Seal Thy Icon upon my heart.

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Bless me, my Master, Your struggling servant,

Render me Holy, Bridegroom Divine.

‘Holy to LORD’, Redeemer Celestial

My Prince of Peace, UnBounded Love.