HOPPER

Blink and you could miss them:
The detached clapperboard houses
By the rail tracks, the lighthouses,
An occasional blue flash of sea,
The sunlit meadows and rooftops,
Gas stations and lonely roads,
The drug stores and diners,
Theatres, offices and hotel rooms
Where figures gaze into space or read.

You glimpse them caught between
The shadows and light which fall
In an implacable geometry
Around the heavy angles Of half-shuttered windows,
And empty sunbeaten streets.
And the women on beds and balconies:
You will note them there, waiting
In various states of dress and undress,
In doorways, at windows and on trains,
Where the light finds them out,
But you can only guess at their stories.

The skies are always bright and blue
In a world forever poised and dreaming;
Except for a rare breeze on a curtain,
Stillness presides over everything,
Inside and outside, in town and country,
And a certain echoing silence prevails,
Whilst the deep woodlands wait
At the edge of everyday things,
Dark and patient and mysterious.

C. 2012 IGR

Hopper is an artist who kind of crept up on me. Although many of his pictures are bright
and colourful, they always seem to retain a sort of film noir quality. Seeing them for
real in a London exhibition a few years ago was a memorable experience.

The picture, ‘Cape Cod Morning’, is reproduced courtesy of Google Images.