Day in the life of Artist Judith Rowlands
Blossom in my garden, by Judith Rowlands
My friend sent me this poem that she had written in 1964. I read it in the garden and it struck a note. It has so much hope and exuberance coupled with that feeling of regret that redeems itself in the end. It is just like a garden and seemed so appropriate this year.
April Tryst
“When you are old, you will remember this -
The blossoms sparkling in the April rain,
A morning full of daffodils and love.
Come, gather up the petals on the lawn,
And scatter them with kisses in my hair,
The dark hair gleaming with the passing sweet.
See where the blackbirds sing of April joys
And hop beneath the willows weaving white,
Oh love! Are you not dearer than all this!
There will be other Aprils and the scent of Spring
Strangling the senses in a sweet embrace,
Breaking my heart with beauty that must pass...
Now I am gone, what is there left to tell -
The tender trysting of an April day,
And yet, you will not easily forget.
You will remember me when you are old
Caught in the sunshine of your April hours,
Webbed in with wonder - at a single kiss!”
The garden is important to me and most days in spring and summer I venture out to weed, deadhead or simply enjoy the flowers. This April and May, however, the blossoms have been strangely abundant and simply glorious.
The weather too has seen us sitting on the terrace until quite late into the evening. Sometimes we are still there playing scrabble while the sun sets. Lunches and dinners have been light and colourful to match the mood and senses of the weather. Lots of vegetables and good spices. A game of scrabble ends the evening while a walk is obligatory in the afternoons.
Our walks take us across a plateau and through the forests and woods. Here again the blossoms are abundant, and the green of the leaves is fresh and light. The fields too are filled with crimson clover and I couldn’t resist picking some to take home.
In the forest, photograph by Judith Rowlands
All these experiences and the assault on my senses is seen in my art at the moment. I say at the moment but I am a beginner on a journey.
Sometimes I wish this journey had started a long time ago but other times I welcome the learning and the voyage of discovery.
The colours I see, the moments in nature, the poems I read and I remember that influence my thoughts and my life. The people in my life who inspire me. I thank them all.
“The Magical women who say to me. “Ah! still life is ‘still life’.” Thank you. ”
I remember poems like Keats and his Grecian Urn and I celebrate the people who introduced me to these great works. I look at the pottery in my kitchen and the art on my wall and I think of how in a way time has stopped now for us all. I remember my trips and I see the blossom on the trees and I think back to the moments in Japan when I met my students and enjoyed their company in their homeland.
I celebrate my life in the company of my daughter, in relaxing art workshops with other magical women and I am grateful for all the blessings I have.
A new peony - photograph of her garden, by Judith Rowlands
“When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”