About a month ago, Shaun and I visited the Yorkshire Sculpture Park near Wakefield. Therefore, I thought I would allow one of these sculptures to ‘choose’ this week’s theme. There were many sculptures dotted around the beautiful estate, as well as indoor exhibitions, but one particular piece seemed to linger in my mind more so than others did. Wonderland by Jaume Plensa (pictured on the right) is a single iron door with a light bulb placed above it. Fixed to a brick wall it would appear that this rusty door leads nowhere, but you can’t help wondering...
When Wonderland was originally unveiled to the public in 1995 at Galerie Daniel Templon, Paris, the work consisted of 38 replicas of the door – the number being significant because Plensa was 38 at the time. Each door was like “a black mirror, with nothing to look at behind,” commented Plensa at the time, and the poet in me can’t help but find this appealing and thought-provoking.
I’ve written a short poem in response to Plensa’s Wonderland sculpture. It’s only a first draft and is more a jotting than a poem, but I thought I’d share it with you (as well as injecting a dose of pessimism into your Tuesday).
Doorway
I’m too old – now,
I’ve crossed that line, stepped over
and can’t remember how to travel back.
Where every doorway is bricked up
and every lock has stiffened with age –
a lack of use.
Where rabbit holes lead to burrows
and gardens aren’t a secret.
Where wardrobes have sturdy backs
and platforms are whole numbers,
because I’m too old now.
Thank you for reading,
Lar