Untitled (2012)
Séamus Moran
Making
This is a strange art.
I approach it in awe,
looking for meaning
by way of its making.
For his near symmetries,
the artist selects,
rotates, inverts,
and he cuts and he glues –
like a poet I think,
the mouldings his language,
and, like a poem when finished,
the joins disappear.
Won from dark wood,
now poised in the light,
his pieces begin talking to me
and I’m listening.
