Transformation and Celebration of Life – The John Clare Wren
In the pattern of Kintsugi
From the broken – something beautiful. A beautiful sandstone birdbath with an engraved quote from the poet John Clare became damaged – but now is a unique artwork with the dainty bronze Wren sculpture by JOEL.
Chosen to be on show at the spectacular art exhibition for Art for Cure at Bredfield House in 2022 – A very special exhibition, celebrating raising a million pounds for our breast cancer charity, Art For Cure. Over 100 coveted artists exhibiting in the house and gardens of Founder Belinda Gray at her home near Woodbridge, Suffolk.
‘I was so sorry to see the damage, but was reminded of the Japanese art of kintsugi, which adds gold and the damaged piece becomes more precious… so I made repairs to the sandstone and used gold leaf. Now the bronze wren sculpture is part of an artwork of many stories of transformation.
The gold leaf on the side – just has a hint of a heart to show the love and passion that is the precious part of life.’
A great reminder of how precious each one of us is and true regardless of ‘cracks and breaks’.
The quotation ‘extacy and mirth’ is in the spelling of the poet John Clare’s poem about the Wren. He was the son of a farm labourer, yet passionate about reading and writing, the English countryside and sorrows at its disruption and loss. After a time of being highly valued as a poet and celebrated in London, he fell from popularity. John’s mental health came under severe pressure and he spent many years in an asylum.
His highly observant, rich poetry now has a keen following and recognition of its value and you can discover much more with the John Clare Society.
‘I enjoy making words part of a sculpture installation and love the way that the water of a birdbath catches the reflections of the changing sky and is there for the refreshment of birds and other creatures.’
Enjoying life and the inspiration of lives lived.
The Wren
Why is the cuckoo’s melody preferred
And nightingale’s rich song so fondly praised
In poet’s rhymes? Is there no other bird
Of nature’s minstrelsy that oft hath raised
One’s heart to extacy and mirth as well?
I judge not how another’s taste is caught:
With mine, there’s other birds that bear the bell
Whose song hath crowds of happy memories brought.
Such the wood-robin singing in the dell
And little wren that many a time hath sought
Shelter from showers in huts where I did dwell
In early spring the tennant of the plain
Tenting my sheep and still they come to tell
The happy stories of the past again.
John Clare
