and is nowhere, and is endless
Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.
Philip Larkin
from "High Windows"
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
the first image says it well ...
wow, this has always been my preferred quote from Larkin, along with the future as a peacock-fan one... and such an interesting choice you made, i would have never thought of this, because i would have chosen, very predictably, a window opening towards the infinite sky :-) i find the images create a subtle tension in relation to the lines, since they also evoke the paradoxical nature of windows, both a closed wall and an opening towards the endless blue, it only depends on the contemplating mind to experience the first or the latter, or perhaps both at the same time, the aching, the tearing... the same hint is made visible by the sever geometry of these windows, i feel - they mirror the obsessive need of the mind to control everything through words, to place everything in neat categories. only when one has freed himself or herself of this, transcending it, only then can one truly inhabit the deep blue air, that shows nothing...
endless gratitude for sharing the Klagewelt with us, James... and joy, such pure joy of being here, a part of it...
"Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless." - I love this line, the repetition of 'and is', and the heavy trochaic emphasis of nothing / nowhere / endless, beating away in my head!
I spent a good part of my weekend in St. Andrews gazing at the gorgeous very old buildings with their dozens of tiny square windows, I love those windows!
Susan: Thank you. This is Chicago, as you could probably guess, where I am still a half-tamed farmboy gaping up at the tall buildings....
Roxana: I am speechless at this profound and beautiful analysis. It is hard to imagine that you are really talking about my pictures!! :-)
I love this poem, too -- and I always find something ambiguous at the end. We joyfully escape the geometric prison of the windows into this blue air, "nowwhere ... and ... endless" --- but it also feels like death, like the final failure of any possibility of meaning.... But the truest, most terrible thing we know may be that these are the same....
Marion: Yes, that's it, that is how the line works!! This stanza has always been my favorite bit of Larkin. He is a poet whom I like very much -- one reason, I think, is because I write nothing at all like Larkin, and so there is no imperative to be on the lookout for something to pinch :-)
I'd like to see those windows at St. Andrew's some day....
Post a Comment