Peter Gillies and Rupert M Loydell

Shadowtrain

Peter Gillies and Rupert M Loydell

1. CLAUDE MONET

CLAUDE MONET IS NOT YOUR FRIEND

Why not start to think about getting ready
for next term? You're only putting it off.
You have the advantage of being nearer work
and living out of town. Structure should not
be understood as the end of a conversation.

Claude Monet is not your friend, that's just
the impression you have from visiting his home.
There was so much movement in those rooms,
too many flowers outside. Life's a bit of a blur
at the moment, especially from this far away.

Why not start to think about getting ready
for the rest of your life? It's not exactly
beach weather outside and your wetsuit
doesn't fit. The pool is crowded with lilies
and there's no jumping from the bridge.

Claude Monet is not your friend. If he was
he'd have given you a painting and you
could have sold it for millions by now.
The noises behind the walls are signals
of distress sent out by artist friends.

‘I am completely lost in this place.’

- Rupert M Loydell

CLAUDE MONET COULD BE YOUR COUSIN

‘There's one hanging in every room’
replies the hotel receptionist
as I bend towards the lurid haystack:
a cup-cake iced in sunset red and barn blue.
They don't have prints of all twenty-five Š do they?

Claude Monet could be your cousin
confiding how he might be caught
working on all of them at the same time,
moving from a haystack in the pale light of winter
straight to one in spring morning mist, for he doesn't care.

He will tell you retirement is out
despite his nightmares. The ceiling
of Rouen Cathedral keeps falling down on him:
sky blue pink crashing into yellow
when all he wants is trees, flowers and some quiet spaces.

Claude Monet could be your cousin
whispering to you of his plein-air efforts
to paint as a bird sings.
Sad about sudden rain beating on the panes,
he still paints lilies though, on the surface of broken water.

‘Maintain, he advised himself, maintain Š’

- Peter Gillies

2. DAN FLAVIN

DAN FLAVIN IS NOT YOUR FRIEND

There is absolutely no point in thinking
that you are needed now. Close up,
actual size, the objects are enormous
and look just like themselves. We will
hear from the experts later on.

Dan Flavin is not your friend; take off
your rose-tinted specs. He stole
all the lightbulbs from your house,
and painted them yellow and blue.
shorted out the village.

There is absolutely no point in thinking
it matters a bit what you think.
That strange green glow in the sky
is a work of art not the borealis.
You simply haven't got a clue.

Dan Flavin is not your friend. That size
and power of bulb is no longer made,
so do not switch it on. You could
not afford to buy a sculpture like this,
let alone pay the insurance bill.

‘We must learn to share the shadows.’

- Rupert M Loydell

DAN FLAVIN COULD BE YOUR COUSIN

It must be my eyes but this eerie pink tint
appears to be following me, as if I'm strolling
down a shopping mall or tripping into a cathedral
or going down the Underground. One fluorescent tube
on top of another, I'm afraid that's the bottom line.

Dan Flavin could be your cousin
going along to the local hardware store
to check out all six coloured strips.
He'll tell you that standard issue is best
for he likes to work with restricted means.

Sometimes they flicker for an instant
when he plugs them in, but once lit up
you are left squinting at his shades of white:
warm white, daylight, cool white and soft white.
But don't forget his ultraviolet black light.

Dan Flavin could be your disco cousin
to dance and glow with, swerving arm-in-arm
past such iconic shiny things. Be prepared:
only a lapsed Catholic could insist
he's not saying something spiritual.

‘Forgetting for a few minutes
how it was all going to develop anyway.’

- Peter Gillies

3. MONDRIAN

MONDRIAN IS NOT YOUR FRIEND

You have to get to the point of thinking
how the edges of things are made
and whether or not each line is
significantly weighted or not. These
are abstract terms for an abstract world.

Mondrian is not your friend. He has
reduced your world to right-angled lines,
makes you boogie-woogie in strict time;
you have become a square. He wants you
to have a set of rules to run your life.

You have to get to the point of thinking
in rhythms and primary colours.
Your world must become as simple
as that; this is as good as it gets.
You will have to learn to measure up.

Mondrian is not your friend. He makes
you stand straight and perfectly formed,
insists you stand still every day. No curves
or inflection, no arcs, torques or turns,
nothing not in a straight line.

‘He controlled what happened next.’

- Rupert M Loydell

PIET MONDRIAN COULD BE YOUR COUSIN

I hardened my gaze, as if I were in fact
the rural stranger I felt myself to be,
studying the red and blue metal cladding
of renovated city flats. High-rise
checkerboard walls against a low, intimidating sky.

Piet Mondrian could be your cousin
who makes pictures like buildings by moving
primary colours and straight lines around.
Slight variations are of great significance
when you are so single-minded.

The floors of his rooms are too clean and tidy:
tables and chairs ordered in a way too square,
not crazy but overly arranged as on a grid.
Spooky by way of such bright rigidity,
he's an artist reluctant to relax.

Piet Mondrian could be your pedantic cousin
living through times of war without letting events
be reflected in his work. When he lived in Hampstead
his studio was bombed-out but he carried on painting
oppositions of just vertical and horizontal lines.

‘He wasn't sure, but in the dimness the stuff
always appeared to be glowing.’

- Peter Gillies