Posted: 17th May 2021
b.1869 – d.1940
Nature at Rest 1890-1940
Oil on Canvas
Daniel Sherrin lived for a while on the East Coast of England near Whitstable. Though primarily a rural landscape artist, he also painted along the coastal shores of Suffolk and Norfolk.
As in Nature at Rest, his landscapes are sensitive depictions of the changing light and atmosphere, according to the time of day or season.
It was said that he became known as an artist who frequently settled his bills with a painting and as a humorous, self-publicist who not only poked fun at those in authority but was also a great benefactor to many local charities.
Samuel Courtauld, the founder of The Courtauld, wrote poetry about the artworks in his collection. Following in his footsteps many years later, young people aged 16-25 from The Warren Youth Project in Hull, were inspired to compose their own creative writing and spoken word.
“Trees May Whisper.”
The trees are just living plants
They are fully grown and fully equipped of keeping life size mammals inside the trunks.
Branches to branches we see
To life and life may we agree
May the snow fill the empty and let it rest beneath our feet.
The river close by
Seems like there is no one here left to cry
Shred and tear
We still care
Build an ark build a house be free to the unusuals
Wood and paper are made by us
But you must serve us before we serve you.
Let us relive your growth, your energy and every breath
Before our time is up
Let us remember what we gave up
And the home to all flying mammals.
Please be kind to us
Let the snow fall once for us
So we can finally see our last taking breath before we are your life forms.
Trees may whisper but when we no longer survive
Remember those who we sacrifice.
Trees may whisper once but only in a life time.
By Raeann Cawkwell
“Span of Time”
Here stand the sentinels,
here lie deeper secrets,
where wind carries water’s whispers to ever-growing trees
and short days turn to longer nights while winter visits.
Alone from outside contact,
promise of changing seasons;
hanging onto the room and space to breathe,
the landscape can change as it will and sleep in peace.
This will not be the only chance to renew
what branches and streams laid first claim to;
here, nature can rest again
if our outside contact can keep it that way.
By Kelly Cartwright
“A Field in Hibernation”
Sometimes trees get tired of their leaves,
Even woods go to sleep on occasion.
Sometimes lakes, don’t want to go anywhere,
Even water can get so lazy it turns solid.
Sometimes, grass grows weary of being trodden,
Even snow needs a place to make a bed.
Sometimes there’s no scenery outside,
Even nature needs its rest.
By Andrew Gooch
“Based on Nature At Rest”
Here, the trees break in my hands
Black brittle smearing the palm like coal.
Here, the water also runs black
Purified from some glacial heavens.
Here, someone is being bribed
By sunset-coloured Turkish delight.
Here, a thousand years have passed
By the riverbed of newly rounded stone.
Here, my breaths billow and crystallize
The solitary sign of trickling life.
Here, my crunching footsteps return
From a silent foray in the resting snow.
By Sarah Magaharan