At the end of his wonderful essay on “Art and Sacrament,” the Welsh poet and painter David Jones included a fragment that he wrote and rewrote over several decades. Here is wisdom:
I said, ah! what shall I write?
I inquired up and down
(he’s tricked before
with his manifold lurking places).
I looked for his symbol at the door.
I have looked for a long while
at the textures and contours
I have run a hand over the trivial intersections.
I have journeyed among the dead forms causation projects from pillar to pylon. I have tired the eyes of the mind regarding the colours and lights.
I felt for his wounds
in nozzles and containers.
I have wondered for the automatic devices . . . I have tested the inane pattersn without prejudice. I have been on my guard not to condemn the unfamiliar . . . for it is easy to miss him at the turn of a civilization . . . .
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
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