The Odours of Flowers by William Blake
From Milton, The Book of Second
Thou percievest the Flowers put forth their precious odours, and none can tell you how from so small and a center comes such sweets. Forgetting that from that Center Eternity expends its ever during doors that Og + Anak fierceky guard.
First, e'er the morning breaks, joy opens in the flowery bosoms, joy even to tears, which the sun rising dries; first the wild thyme + meadow-sweet, downy and soft waving among the reeds, light springing on the air, lead the sweet dance; they wake the honeysuckle sleeping on the oak; the flaunting beauty revels along upon the wind; the white-thorn, lovely May, opens her many lovely eyes; listening, the rose still sleeps, none dare to wake her, soon she bursts her crimson curtain'd bed and comes forth in the majesty of beauty; every flower, the Pink, the Jessamine, the Wall-flower, the Carnation, the Jonquil, the Milk Lilly, opens her heavens; every tree + flower + herb soon fill the air with an innumerable dance, yet all in order sweet + lovely. Men are sick with love! -William Blake [1757-1827]
Art by: Jose Alvarez | Art Basel 2016 | photo by Nadia Bouzid
Presented by: Gavlak Gallery
Materials used: Acrylic, ink, colored pencil, feathers, quills, handmade paper, resin, and collage on mica on wood panel