My Name is GORMLEY


ANTONY GORMLEY can be seen towering 20 metres above the A1/M1 on the approach to Gateshead or  standing on Crosby Beach, north of Liverpool, waiting for the tide to come in and now he is standing up to his knees in the Water of Leith in Edinburgh. All six of him (or is it five?).


it brings to mind Shelley’s  OZYMANDIAS

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away..

* * *

In Art as well as Politics  is there not a hope for something more than temporal fame (not that that’s to be sniffed at!)?


One response to “My Name is GORMLEY

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