Today I am concentrating on ‘The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock’, a poem I have mused upon for a while now. It embodies the melancholy I appear to have been born with, a vague blast of icy air that swirls around my life. I love my life, but simultaneously have deep feelings of despair at the human condition, at the vagaries of existence and the inability for me to hold a meaning behind it for any continuous body of time. All is indeed paradox. But back to T.S. Eliot and his intriguing expression of modern life, containing this human experience of being, feeling, understanding conflicting abstractions, the confusion of being alone in a crowd.
My endeavour is fitting visual imagery to complement the text, and so far I have come up with some ideas that make sense to me.
What always interests me is how other people interpret the same content , and whether my interpretation manages to resonate with anyone. I choose an intuitive response to his poem, and have avoided reading analyses because I find it muddies my own thinking. After I have finished, I may go and discover what other readers have encountered in reading it, but I want to be ‘clean’ of influence. It may not be a scholarly approach! main image An advanced dressing station in France Henry Tonks 1918
image The Brown Tunnel Henry Moore