Lovely was the Death Of Him, whose Life was Love! Holy with power He on the thought-benighted Sceptic beam’d Manifest Godhead, melting into day What Mists dim-floating of Idolatry Split and mishap’d the Omnipresent Sire: And first by TERROR, Mercy’s startling prelude, Uncharm’d the Spirit spell-bound with earthy lusts Till of it’s nobler Nature it ‘gan feel Dim recollections; and thence soar’d to Hope, Strong to believe whate’er of mystic good The ETERNAL dooms for his IMMORTAL SONS. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 'Religious Musings'
Much of the creative process is about getting through the chaos to that point of clarity where we act. The space of the desk, of the home, the shared space of life lived with the beloved – but also the inner space where the individual inhabits a kind of workshop of the soul in which we fashion all our strategies and tactics and devices – all this needs tending to, otherwise the creative process can become a cover-up.
Here at RoH we are interested in the creative process as a reflection of the state of that inner workshop, not as a sanitised receptacle of platitudes dressed up as wisdom, but as a place where a genuine enactment of Hephaestian craftsmanship is taking place, and where the mess is every bit a part of the whole as those luminous, evanescent moments of pure vision.
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