While envying those profound students of Art who find idealistic beauty of a significant message in the Epstein bust in bronze (modern, ætat 20 years) lately purchased by Melbourne Gallery, the average man, when he will frankly admit it, owns himself as greatly puzzled by the sculptures of Epstein as he is by the theories of Einstein.
Sometimes I risk a faltering step To meet these -steins, both Ein- and Ep-: But hesitate and halt at last, Finding the works of each too vast For such a finite brain as mine. They gravel me, both Ep- and Ein-. Ein-'s themes on space, Ep-'s things in stone Both leave me gasping. Tho' I own They're "after something," as men say, What master minds, what years away, Will fully grasp at last those fine Profundities of Ep- and Ein-? I sometimes like to think, if Ep- Could be induced to take the step, He might translate and bring in bounds Vague theories that Ein- propounds -- Carve them in stone, that, in the end Mere fools like me might comprehend. Working together thus they might To a dull-witted world bring light. But when each labors all alone, Ep- at his monstrous things in stone. Ein- with his talk of time-light-space Just leave me with a wooden face. Tho' here and now I own the twain Bring but a bussing in my brain, Yet I, like others of my kind, Keen to be thought a "modern" mind, If asked, will learnedly admit, Each is indutitably It.
|Copyright © Perry Middlemiss 2005|