'The Hill We Climb' by Amanda Gorman

Today was the inauguration of President Biden of the USA, a strange affair without crowds and cheering, but something that was right and special in its own right. The main thing for me was the poem read by Amanda Gorman, a 22 year old poet called 'The Hill We Climb'. I've always thought that poets have a special power, a power to use and transform the words that we all use but make them into something different. Something powerful. And Amanda is a power. She is also a light. I hope to see more of her and her work.

There are lots of videos online for you to look at but here are the words. 

When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry. A sea we must wade.

We braved the belly of the beast.

We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace, and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.

And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it.

Somehow we do it.

Somehow we weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.

We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.

And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge our union with purpose.

To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.

And so we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.

We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.

We seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.

That even as we grieved, we grew.

That even as we hurt, we hoped.

That even as we tired, we tried.

That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.

Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid.

If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made.

That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb, if only we dare.

It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit.

It’s the past we step into and how we repair it.

We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation, rather than share it.

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.

And this effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth, in this faith we trust, for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.

This is the era of just redemption.

We feared at its inception.

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour.

But within it we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.

So, while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe, now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be: a country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.

We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation, become the future.

Our blunders become their burdens.

But one thing is certain.

If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.

Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise from the golden hills of the West.

We will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution.

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states.

We will rise from the sun-baked South.

We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.

And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.

When day comes, we step out of the shade of flame and unafraid.

The new dawn balloons as we free it.

For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.

If only we’re brave enough to be it.

'Turner's Modern World' at Tate Britain

Tate Britain holds the national collection of Turner paintings so it's fitting that its latest exhibition focuses on Turner. The core of the exhibition shows Turner's paintings reflecting the changing world, from the pastoral idyll of previous years to the mechanised world and steam engines that led to where we are today. Something I'd never thought about before is that for the first half of Turner's life Britain had been at war with other countries, as one of the signs pointed out, and that's bound to affect the type of art produced at the time. And it did, with drawings and paintings of forges making canon and weapons. steam rising and flames flaring, warships at sea, storms and shipwrecks. There's a lot going on in this exhibition.

I was quite surprised at the range of media Turner used, primarily watercolour, gouache and oils, mixing his media to experiment with effects. It was also quite exciting to see some of his small sketchbooks on display with his delicate little drawings and studies. I always find it fascinating to see artists' sketchbooks, to see their doodles and random drawings of things that caught their eye or playing around with different compositions. 

Turner was born in 1775 and entered the Royal Academy in 1789 at the very young age of 14. That is, of course, the year of the French Revolution which must've been an influence on his thinking. The Academy taught classical drawing and discouraged depicting modern subjects, preferring to see history paintings as the true artist's subject. He later went on to become professor of perspective at the Academy in 1807. I was quite taken with this small painting of 'Edinburgh, from Carlton-Hill' which shows the city in transition as it expands and grows, in which he used graphite and watercolour. 

I also liked his larger painting, 'The Battle of Trafalgar, as Seen from the Mizen Starboard Shrouds of the Victory'. There's so much going on in this painting and at the still centre is the death of Nelson as the French navy surrenders at Trafalgar. It's a bit jingoistic but that was the state of the country at the time with the death of a hero as he achieved a great victory. 

I quite like the detail of the title putting the viewer in a specific place to watch the scene. I also like the complicated composition, with waves reaching into the air to mingle with the smoke of gunpowder, sails billowing from various ships, showing the complex mess of a sea battle in which sailors are battling the wind and waves as well as the opposition. And the tiny figures of the seamen, dwarfed by their ships.

Turner took a different approach a decade later when he painted 'The Field of Waterloo', rather than showing signs of martial victory and jubilation he shows a more realistic view of the aftermath of war, with piles of bodies and women searching for their menfolk. The dramatic lighting and billowing smoke add to the effect. When the painting went on tour (as happened back then) it was accompanied by a line of poetry from Byron, 'friend and foe in one red burial blent'. 

Turner also painted more 'domestic' scenes of the small events of our lives, such as 'A Country Blacksmith Disputing upon the Price of Iron, and the Price Charged to the Butcher for Shoeing his Pony'. Again, a lovely descriptive title for a painting of various characters doing things. It is also a comment on the costs of war to ordinary people as prices increase to cover the burdens of extra taxes to cover the costs of war, in this case, on iron.

Continuing with social commentary a room of the exhibition is given over to paintings considered to be potentially upsetting to visitors, with a sign at the doorway reading, 'Content Guidance. Artworks in this room depict human suffering and the deaths of enslaved people.' A timely reminder that slavery wasn't abolished until 1807 and 1833 in the overseas colonies and territories.

The next room considered some of Turner's 'biggies' , or at least big to me since they are normally in the National Gallery and I've seen them many times, 'The Fighting Temeraire' and 'Rain, Steam and Speed - The Great Western Railway'. I don't know why but I quite love these two paintings, maybe familiarity, and I've attempted to copy 'Rain, Steam and Speed'. I love looking for the hare racing ahead of the train - and I don't always see him - and the boats on the river below the bridge. It's an astonishing painting in many ways, a magnificent experiment in trying to capture atmospheric effects.

Before going into the final room I noticed two small watercolours, 'Shields, on the River Tyne' and 'Newcastle' from 1823 when he was doing his series of the 'Rivers of England'. They're lovely little paintings but the locations are unrecognisable today. The sign beside the 'Shields' painting notes that the keelmen worked round the clock to load coal onto the boats to provide the power for Empire before becoming victims to the mechanisation of the process. The curator has clearly never heard the song 'Cushy Butterfield' sung by a brokenhearted keelsman in Gateshead who loves our Cushy.

I visited this exhibition on, by chance, the first day after lockdown at the start of December and the gallery was almost empty so I had the joy of walking into several empty rooms, just me and the art rather than the usual crowds. It was like that in the final room of the exhibition, just me to wander round the art and the guard sitting in the doorway. I was just lucky to already have a ticket for the day but I assume it got busier over December before the current lockdown.

The final rooms contain two paintings hung side by side just as they were when first exhibited. There is 'War: The Exile and the Rock Limpet', a stark painting of Napoleon in exile, and 'Peace: Burial at Sea', a darker painting of Turner's friend, the painter David Wilkie's burial at sea after dying of typhoid. It's a very dramatic painting with black sails on the ship since Wilkie wasn't allowed to be buried on dry land. It's a very dramatic painting and very powerful when you see it right in front of you. He was obviously a good friend.

And there you have it, the biggest exhibition of Turner's paintings for a long time, all on the theme of reflecting the changing world and society he lived in. I was very lucky to visit when I did, when it was so empty so I could enjoy the paintings without crowds. I hope the Tate extends the run of the exhibition to take into account the lockdowns since I'd love to visit again. If you can, it's well worth a visit.