William Blake (1757-1827) is one of the most famous English artists of his time. Passionate about mysticism, religion, mythologies, he is gifted with multiple talents, being both a poet, illustrator, painter, engraver and even an editor. Artist and craftsman, he does everything himself: he owns his own presses, edits his books and prints his engravings.
Today, world-famous and recognized, having influenced generations of writers, painters, filmmakers, musicians, choreographers, and opera creators, we possess in France only a few of his works, some of which are surrounded by an aura of mystery, due to their esotericism which can be difficult to apprehend.
Very interested in pagan myths and the history of the Bible, Blake is in a permanent mystical search. It illustrates ‘The Divine Comedy’ by Dante and ‘Paradise Lost’ by Milton. Composed and illustrated by Blake, “Songs of Innocence and Experience” is his main collection of poems. William Blake does not gain fame and recognition until well after his death. (source)
One must read amazing Blake. Take the risk to fall in love with his modernity. Better: with his eternity. Here comes a selection of quotations and poems by William Blake, illustrated with his own hand. I subjected his works to some contortions, as you can see in his portrait below. The great man has already forgiven me. He had the delicacy to tell me, let him be thanked!
One must read Blake. One must contemplate his incredible paintings and engravings, where the fantastic disputes him with the horrible. One must immerse oneself in his abundant work. And fall in love with its modernity. Better: with its eternity.
Jim Morisson, leader of the Doors, found in William Blake the name of his group. Here is the exact quote that inspired Jim:
If the doors of perception were purified,
All things would appear to man as they are, infinite.
Because man has locked himself in, until seeing all things
Through the narrow cracks of his cave.
It is with the stones of the Law that prisons were built and with the bricks of religion, the brothels.
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
He who does not dare to face the sun will never be a star.
The path of excess leads to the Palace of Wisdom.
Those who repress their desire are those whose desire is weak enough to be repressed.
Imagination is not a state; it is the entire human existence.
Don’t try to please people, because people will prevent you from entering paradise.
The fox accuses the trap, not himself.
Excess of sorrow laughs. Excess of joy weeps.
Without constraints, there is no progress. Attraction and Repulsion, Reason and Energy, Love and Hate, are necessary for the existence of man.
Always be ready to say your opinion, and the coward will avoid you.
Art is the tree of life, science is the tree of death.
Prudence is a rich and ugly old girl who is courted by incapacity.
Energy is eternal pleasure.
I must create a system of my own or be the slave of someone else’s!
Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
All deities reside in the heart of man.
The tigers of anger are wiser than the horses of knowledge.
Some are born in sweet delight
And some are born for endless night.
Lives among men like a bee among birds.
If the fool persevered in his madness, he would meet wisdom.
If others were not crazy, it would be up to us to be.
Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
The children walking two and two, in red and blue and green,
Grey headed beadles walk’d before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul’s they like Thames’ waters flow.
Oh what a multitude they seem’d, these flowers of London town!
Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own.
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.
Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of Heaven among.
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor;
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
Is this a holy thing to see
In a rich and fruitful land,
Babes reduced to misery,
Fed with cold and usurous hand?
Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!
And their sun does never shine,
And their fields are bleak and bare,
And their ways are filled with thorns:
It is eternal winter there.
For where’er the sun does shine,
And where’er the rain does fall,
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall.
When Hercules met Pyrene, he understood that he was no longer a hero, but a…
There is nothing left on Earth, human, animal or vegetable. But elsewhere? Beyond?
If you think the riddle is cleared up, are you sure you understood everything?
In Quebec, the old-time lumberjacks transformed their canoes into magical planes