As a young art student in Australia, I was always intrigued by the title of Arthur Streeton's grand nineteenth century landscape; "
The Purple Noon's Transparent Might." The interweb now permits us an insight to his source. It is a line from a mournful piece of prose by Percy Bysshe Shelley aptly called "
Stanzas Written in Dejection Near Naples." Not long after he drowned (albeit under suspicious circumstances) in a storm at sea.
I had begun a series of photographs incorporating fog that were sombre and melancholy and was looking for the right titles to give them a little
kick in the pants. Shelley's
Dejection stanzas fit the bill perfectly.
Weep Away the Life of Care
The Deep's Untrampled Floor
Inward Glory Crowned
The Lightning of the Noontide Ocean
A Tone Arises From Its Measured Motion
The Breath of the Moist Air is Light
