John William Waterhouse
I love it when an artist captures our imaginations with their work.
While composing my Celebrate Spring With Victoria post,
I realized that paintings I was drawn to were created by the same artist.
My Sweet Rose
or
The Soul of a Rose
is my favorite - the tilt of the lovely woman's head
her hand pressing against the wall
her slightly closed eyes
speak volumes to our hearts and minds.
We completely understand.
It is said that
Waterhouse was influenced by this
Alfred Lord Tennyson poem
(especially the highlighted line)
'Come into the Garde, Maud'
Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, Night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone;
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the musk of the roses blown.
For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of Love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves
On a bed of daffodil sky,
To faint in the light of the sun she loves,
To faint in his light, and to die.
All night have the roses heard
The flute, violin, bassoon;
All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd
To the dancers dancing in tune
Till a silence fell with the waking bird,
And a hush with the setting moon.
I said to the lily, "There is but one
With whom she has heart to be gay.
When will the dancers leave her alone?
She is weary of dance and play. "
Now half to the setting moon are gone,
And half to the rising day;
Low on the sand and loud on the stone
The last wheel echoes away.
I said to the rose, "The brief night goes
In babble and revel and wine.
O young lordlover, what sighs are those
For one that will never be thine?
But mine, but mine," so I sware to the rose,
"For ever and ever, mine. "
And the soul of the rose went into my blood,
As the music clash'd in the hall;
And long by the garden lake I stood,
For I heard your rivulet fall
From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,
Our wood, that is dearer than all;
From the meadow your walks have left so sweet
That whenever a March-wind sighs
He sets the jewelprint of your feet
In violets blue as your eyes,
To the woody hollows in which we meet
And the valleys of Paradise.
The slender acacia would not shake
One long milk-bloom on the tree;
The white lake-blossom fell into the lake,
As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;
But the rose was awake all night for your sake,
Knowing your promise to me;
The lilies and roses were all awake,
They sigh'd for the dawn and thee.
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,
Come hither, the dances are done,
In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,
Queen lily and rose in one;
Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,
To the flowers, and be their sun.
There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate;
The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"
And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"
The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"
And the lily whispers, "I wait. "
She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead;
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.
Anyone familiar with Anne of Green Gables is familiar with the scene where Anne quotes
The Lady of Shallot
this painting expresses the emotion of the moment in the story.
Windswept
What one of us who are flower lovers doesn't understand the desire to be out in the midst of a garden gathering these beauties - despite a strong wind. And barefoot.
Ophelia
was one of his more frequent portrayals - there must have been
something about her story that drew his imagination.
Spring Spreads One Lap of Green
The love of gathering fragrant blossoms.
Spring
Oh, the joy of discovering that beloved bloom after a long winter's nap
Miranda
from Shakespeare's The Tempest
Oh, what story this tragic scene portrays - the courage of this woman - the deepfelt heartache...
Gather ye Rosebuds while Ye May
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
Old time is still a-flying;
And the same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
(Robert Herrick)
Old time is still a-flying;
And the same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
(Robert Herrick)
A beautiful portrayal of a well known verse
Boreas
the greek god of the North wind
I wonder what draws this woman out into this wind - a love?
This portrait captures a young woman in a windswept landscape.
John William Waterhouse was born in Rome to English parents. His influence was the Pre-Raphaelite style and era. Waterhouse was trained in art at the Royal Academy of Art. His artwork depicted primarily women of ancient Greek mythology and Arthurian legend.
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