Sofiah Garrard’s New Book – Introductions

Introductions – formal presentation of one being to another – Sofiah Garrard’s collages act as the leading stimulus for Emmanuel Williams to write to and together they enrich each other.

The images and poems in this volume form a sequel to “The Inside Story”, an earlier volume which featured these two artists’ collaboration and which sold worldwide.

Introductions brings you into contact with new characters and tells you a little of their stories, in the way that a formal introduction will.  The collages are 3-dimensional and are made up of Sofiah’s drawings, etchings and paintings.  The book itself will shortly be on sale at Green Chair Gallery.

Magicman-in-France-Sofiah-GarrardMagicman in France

Ce qui est normale
C’est ça qui m’ennuie

L’oiseau qui vole à travers le ciel
C’est un miracle.
Ça je connais
Mais ça ne m’étonne pas.

Il me faut une jolie fille
Qui joue au mandoline et sourit à l’audience
Il me faut un petit étage quelconque
Un grand chapeau noir
Et un bâton magique.
Il me faut surtout un lapin blanc
Qui saute d’une boite vide
Et voila, tout le monde est étonné
Y compris moi.

C’est un jeu
C’est tout un jeu.
Que le jeu puisse continuer

The-Bird-painter-Sofiah-GarrardThe Bird Painter

She was there by the river for a day or a year
Watching the birds flying distant and near
She was singing the song of a lightsome heart
As the wind wandered by on its endless path

She was thinking of apricot, teal and green
A streak of vermilion she’d never quite seen
She was thinking of turquoise and cobalt and plum
Of a golden so pure it gave birth to the sun

And a man from the ministry fastened a rope
From the back of beyond to the borders of hope
Came birds of the water and birds of the wind
With a flutter of feathers and music to sing

She touched them with colour, she brushed them with love
The swift and the swallow, the peacock, the dove
And the wind on its wanderings whispered the word
Of the beautiful lady, painter of birds

The-Poet-Sofiah-GarrardThe Poet

I can’t help but feel
What’s going on
The groans of the planet
Have silenced my song

What use are my poems
What use are my words
When the greed in our hearts
Is destroying the world

I walk late at night
When the houses are dark
I turn a deaf ear
To the poems in my heart

There’s a bird on my path
With feathers of gold
It flew from a story
Our ancestor told

In a voice of great sweetness
It asks me to sing
I open the lock on my heart
And begin

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