- available work
- archive
- sculpture
- .archive
- .older archive
- - Kneeling
- - Recovering Robin
- - Swimming Lesson
- - Bliss
- - Precious
- - Personal Army
- - Fingers Crossed
- - Things Aside
- - Sitting Figure No 1
- - Withstanding
- - Leaning
- - Do What?
- - Cinnamon Girl
- - Dancer
- - Bliss II
- - Super Girl
- - Spring
- - Stars
- - Bristol
- - Portishead Public Art
- - Taywood Homes
- - Madonna and Child
- - Ashton Court
- - Torso
- - B.S. Shed 1
- - B.S. Shed 2
- - Winchester 3
- - Winchester 2
- - Winchester 4
- - Winchester 1
- .Block People 14cms
- painting
- sculpture
- shows
- about
- studio diary
- mailing list
- contact
Bliss
A poem by John Terry
Beginning
Forget Genesis:
I arrived long before Adam-
Earth was without form and void
when I rose from its boiling crust
dragging half-molten
world-stuff that flowed
from my hips like a garment.
Stretched towards a belly of sky
I teased lightning crooked fingers
to fire new creation.
Fire
became Flamenco –
clinging magma flared
from my body,
rippled like incandescent silk
ruffled and flounced
into a full skirt.
Right arm raised,
left levelled with horizon.
I imagined red Cuban heels:
stamped the first step –
Solid earth formed
where my foot fell.
To a rattle of castanets
I danced shape into the world;
added colour; separated light
from darkness, water from land;
danced the swell of hills,
the bare height of mountains –
my swaying shape a pattern
for birch and willow. All life
rejoiced, clicked its heels –
danced to my rhythm.
John Terry
91 cms highx 32d x 35w
Edition of 14
Bronze