The 1993 Venice Biennale Sentinel 1993

ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT

THE WORLD TAKES NOTE OF ABSTRACT SCULPTOR UNIVERSITY OF CENTRAL FLORIDA’S JOHANN EYFELLS, WHO TURNS MOLTEN METAL INTO ART, IS SHOWING HIS WORK AT A PRESTIGIOUS EXHIBITION IN VENICE.

By Mark Vosburgh of The Orlando Sentinel Staff

Sunday, September 12, 1993

Long ago, in a faraway land of icy peaks and a lava desert, a boy wondered why his father was content to paint landscapes and sell his art for modest sums. ”Is it wrong,” the artist asked his son, ”to want to make the world more beautiful?” Years later, in a place warm and lush, the son left a profitable profession for the love of molding molten metal into abstractions as cold and coarse as his homeland. To his dying day, the painter wondered why. ”He resented in certain ways my so-called abstract tendencies,” the sculptor said of his father. ”He was never quite sure I had embarked on the right road as an artist.” This summer the world took note of Johann Eyfells, avant-garde sculptor, University of Central Florida art professor, onetime architect and the son of an Icelandic painter.

Invited by the government of Iceland to represent his island birthplace, Eyfells is exhibiting samples of his work at the 1993 Biennale art show in Venice, Italy. Running from June 13 to Oct. 10, the show features artists from 49 nations, including the United States. Marcia Vetrocq, a University of New Orleans fine arts professor and Biennale patron, likens the show to Olympic events. ”For a given artist to be invited to represent his country is a great honor and a considerable opportunity,” said Vetrocq, who critiqued this year’s show for Art in America magazine. Though unfamiliar with Eyfells’ work, Vetrocq said artists representing small nations may deserve more consideration than they get at the Biennale. ”It’s like the Olympics in the sense that Guam may have a luge team, but it’s not likely to get the attention,” she said. ”Iceland may fall into that category.”

For Eyfells, the international recognition is perhaps his crowning achievement as an artist, which he contends he has been for all of his 70 years.”It never occurred to me I would become an artist,” Eyfells said during a interview last week at his home near Oviedo after returning from the Biennale. ”I always imagined that I was an artist.” At UCF, Eyfells’ reputation as both sculptor and teacher was established long ago. Maude Wahlman, a UCF art professor and former chairwoman of the art department, described her colleague as one of the people she admires most in the world. ”He is an internationally recognized artist and has been for many years,” Wahlman said. “I think the awareness of how great his reputation is is just slow in coming to Central Florida.” Rob Reedy, current chairman of the art department, said Eyfells’ 24 years in UCF classrooms also have left a lasting impression on the art world. ”His students continually come back or call and ask how Johann is doing,” Reedy said. ”And they always mention that their experience with him in the classroom affected them in a very positive way ever since.”

When the artist in Johann Eyfells first emerged at age 18, he was wearing boxing gloves. In the ring, he combined abstract tendencies with the speed of a middleweight to produce what he considered to be his first artistic creations – four knockouts. ”I think boxing helped me realize, in a reassuring way, that I had an ability to create,” he said. ”I never felt I was conforming to the coaches’ suggestions. I always felt I was alone and free to do what I wanted.” But he gave up boxing for a knockout named Kristin Halldorsdottir. An Icelandic model and dress designer, Halldorsdottir considered fighting to be uncivilized. They married in 1949, and remain together today.

Eyfells’ art took a new and lasting form – a granite rendering of a bear – at age 22, when he was studying business administration at the University of California at Berkeley. Iceland typically sent its young men to the European continent to study. But with Europe ravaged by war in 1946, Eyfells’ father sent his two sons to the United States.

An artist at heart, Johann Eyfells arrived at Berkeley with instructions from his father to choose an academic field that would prepare him for business. As a compromise, he eventually abandoned the study of business administration, and in 1953 earned a bachelor’s degree in architecture from the University of Florida. Years later, he also gave up the lucrative life of a draftsman and architect to avoid having to tailor his creations to the commercial whims of customers. ”There were too many compromises,” he said. ”Too many limitations.”

After earning a master’s degree in fine arts from UF in 1964, Eyfells took up teaching in Iceland and Florida to support his life as a sculptor. His wife has given up modeling and designing in order to paint. Eyfells sells his art, but not for the kind of prices that would permit him to do nothing but create. ”I hate to talk about prices,” he said. ”It is so difficult to be realistic.” The hair that laps over his shirt collar is graying, but the body remains as lean as that of a middleweight and the hands are meaty reminders of an artistry in the ring. He otherwise fits the stereotypical image of a professor in his dark blue shirt, even darker blue tie, slightly rumpled brown slacks and scuffed brown shoes. Sweating over his fiery hot metals, he always wears a necktie. ”What it means,” he said, ”is that the artist doesn’t have to be strange or conspicuous to create.” The point is a subtle one, for he begins creating well before dawn and always by himself.

His studio is his back yard. His back yard is a scrap heap. Aluminum window frames, cushionless deck chairs, scorched railroad ties and a water heater litter the untrimmed lawn. ”The neighbors,” he said, ”do not complain.” Delivered in bulk by scrap dealers and melted in oil-burning furnaces, the junk metal is transformed into mammoth cubes, triangles or spheres that often share the earthy hues and the coarse textures of Iceland’s volcanic landscape. ”People who know my origin invariably imagine lava flows and molten rock have influenced my sculpture, but I doubt that,” he said. ”I have a feeling that if I had been born elsewhere that similar artistic manifestations would have developed.”

Eyfells calls his work ”receptual.” His definitions of the term are nearly as dense as the sculpture that it describes. The sculptor once wrote: ”Receptualism is a neologism that designates a conceptual approach to an art form that is born of an intense and critical interest in the nature of the fragile reality of minimal distance.” Even his wife of 44 years, and his colleagues in art and academic circles, admit that some of Eyfells’ abstract expressions aren’t always easily grasped. ”It is at times quite difficult to follow him,” said UCF art professor Margaret Skoglund. ”Sometimes I feel he is speaking a foreign language. But that is what makes the end result, art, so fascinating.” Said Wahlman, the former art department chairman: ”Because he is a philosopher and coming up with new vocabulary for seeing and thinking about art, you really have to open your mind a lot. ”That’s why he is such a good teacher, because he doesn’t try to make his students be like him. Instead he helps them to find themselves and their unique contributions. That’s the hardest kind of teaching.”

Fifteen years after his father’s death, the graying sculptor paused to wonder whether the Icelandic painter would have been impressed to have seen his son’s abstract tendencies at the 1993 Biennale. ”I think he would have just accepted it,” the sculptor sighed, ”as evidence of a rather disappointing emphasis in the art world.

Jóhann and Kristin, Separate But Equal Sentinel 1987

STYLE

Artists: Equal but separate couple’s strength lies in each other

By Laura Stewart Dishman, Orlando Sentinel Art Critic

Published: SUNDAY, April 19, 1987

If Kristin Eyfells had never met Johann, her husband of nearly 40 years, she’d still be living in Iceland, designing and selling women’s clothing. And if Johann had never met Kristin, he might still be an architect, living and working for a large firm on Long Island.

Instead, the Scandinavians, both now in their mid-60s, became artists and moved to Florida. They still go back to Iceland occasionally, but prefer to spend most of their time working in the sprawling studios that command more than half the space in their 6,000-square-foot Oviedo home.

They like to say that the art they create in those studios has little in common except that it is made by a husband and wife. Yet Johann’s bold, organic sculpture and Kristin’s confrontational, geometric paintings are similar in their strong impact. Twenty-seven of their pieces are on exhibit through May 3 at the Osceola Center for the Arts in Kissimmee, inviting comparison.

The oversized faces of well-known figures stare blankly from Kristin’s smoothly painted oils at the Osceola Center. In a piece from her arresting ”Anonymous Ladies” series, a square-jawed woman with bright purple hair is set against an acid-green background. Tiny wrinkles and shadows are transformed into stylized, elongated diamonds enameled in harsh blue, green and purple tones. No one can escape the penetrating gaze of these visages, especially the hard, frozen faces of her perfect women. No emotion is expressed in the works. The dreamlike faces are so cool, so symmetrically presented and so geometrically exact, that they become unforgettable icons.

Johann’s abstract sculptures and works on paper are just as unconcerned with convention, and every bit as forceful. His cast-aluminum-and-bronze ”Receptual Cube” is a deep-red eroded block that looks as if it might be light to lift and touch, despite its obvious solidity and weight. The piece is both delicate and formal, concerned with texture, contour and tone, not with narration or representation.

The Eyfells have shown their works alone, together and in group exhibits in America and Europe since they moved to Orlando in 1969. But they prefer husband-and-wife shows. ”I love showing with Kristin,” Johann said. ”We’re equally dedicated as artists and our standards are equally high. I wouldn’t be as pleased to show with her if she weren’t as serious an artist as I am. But there’s nothing there that relates the works to each other except that they were made by a husband and wife, which is our strength.”

Leaning forward as she sat on a long, black sofa at one end of her studio, Kristin interrupted: ”Yes, that’s right. You go into the show and see two exactly opposite artists who work together.” Any similarities in styles could spring naturally from their shared Icelandic heritage or from the fact that they’re on ”the same wavelength in terms of artistic sincerity and dedication,” Johann said. ”I don’t think we enhance each other’s talents — we really don’t help each other out at all. We simply get peer pressure from each other. ”Ours is not a competitive relationship, but our critical judgment keeps us on our toes,” he continued. ”We know when we look at each other’s work, we have to measure up. Her eyes are honest, penetrating, discriminating — and able to intercept any hint of artificiality in my work.”  With that, Kristin shrugged and laughed almost uncomfortably at her husband’s dispassionate yet flattering evaluation.

Unlike many artist couples who work in tandem to create pieces that seamlessly blend two styles and personalities, the Eyfells share a respect for the need for solitude and privacy during the crucial creative process. ”We give each other hints, but very rarely advise,” he continued. ”Our dialogue as artists is taken for granted; we have identical ideas about quality and are both striving for quality, which is anything that taxes every fiber of our beings and is uncompromising. My art is my life.”

When Johann and Kristin met after World War II in Berkeley, Calif., he was studying architecture and she was taking a year’s leave from her clothing businesses in Iceland to travel and study. He was painting on his own, but she had never thought of herself as an artist.
They married in 1949 and by the end of the 1950s were living on Long Island. Johann, still an architect, was beginning to sell the canvases he painted in his spare time. Kristin, intent on becoming a doctor like her father, had gone back to college and was studying psychology. To fill a blank spot on her schedule, she registered for a sculpture class, and ended up, like her husband, an artist.

In 1965, after Johann had finished an advanced degree in painting and design at the University of Florida, the couple returned to Iceland, where he spent four years teaching art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts in Reykjavik. They came back to America in 1969, settling in Orlando so Johann could teach at the newly opened Florida Technological University (now the University of Central Florida). After nearly two decades here, their works do not reflect the Florida experience, the artists agree.

Johann believes that his organic sculpture may be influenced by Iceland’s volcanic formations. Kristin takes her gigantic studies of famous faces from magazines. If anything, she said, her images reveal an interest in psychology and express her feelings about her subjects. She does not know them personally, yet she uses their initials as titles — almost as if they are friends. Somehow they are not just hers, but her.

Because so much of their energy and emotions are invested in their work, the Eyfells rarely discuss their art — or the art of others. They have trouble understanding how or why people talk about something that can be expressed only by doing. Art, to them, is not an object but an action, Johann said, looking at Kristin as she nodded in vigorous agreement. ”It’s always amazing to me that people try to tell me about their art. Students sometimes try to talk about what they’re doing. And I always stop them.” Sometimes, though, Johann will communicate, without speaking, with Kristin when he feels a particular painting is just right. He’ll leave her a note on the breakfast table:
”It’s finished now,” Johann Eyfells will tell his wife.

Kristin Eyfells Leaves a Legacy Behind Sentinel 2002

ART

Kristin Eyfells Filled Canvases With Colorful, Radiant Portraits

July 22, 2002|By Jon Steinman, Sentinel Staff Writer

With her oils and pastels, Kristin Eyfells had that uncanny way of turning a blank canvas into an explosion of personality. A native of western Iceland who came to Central Florida by way of San Francisco, Eyfells became one of Central Florida’s artistic lights.

Shows of her works dazzled art lovers in Orlando, Tampa and Northern California. Eyfells, 84, died Saturday. She had suffered a stroke in 1999, and according to her husband, Johann Eyfells, “It had been downhill ever since.”

Her artistic legacy, however, endures — and not just in her Oviedo home, where countless canvases brimming with her talent are on display. Fascinated by the face and its potential to convey character and meaning, Kristin Eyfells’ faces radiated. While many of her faces were those of the famous and important, not all were. In 1994, a monumental visage by Eyfells dominated The Warehouse Gallery’s “Women at Work” show. In a 1994 review of her work, an Orlando Sentinel correspondent wrote that, “Kristin creates in each of her works an individualized compromise between the abstract and the organic.”

Jóhann & Kristin

Jóhann & Kristin

Realistic and playful might be another way to describe her paintings, which captured her subjects with a photographer’s clarity even as she danced around the natural order of things. Colors exploded unexpectedly, and in surprising places: country crooner George Jones’ chin, photographer Ansel Adams’ eyelids. The Eyfells, husband and wife, sculptor and painter, even staged shows together. They lived and breathed art through 53 years of marriage.

“We met in Berkeley, where I was a student,” said Johann Eyfells, 79, a retired University of Central Florida art professor who helped create UCF’s art department. “She was a student in fashion-design school. We married, and after we decided to move to Florida to complete our studies. The weather was the main factor. I am a sculptor, and I enjoy working in the outdoors.”

Kristin Eyfells earned a degree in psychology from the University of Florida before the couple relocated to the Orlando area. And, according to her husband, it transformed her work. “She really concentrated on faces,” he said. “I’m sure she was interested in capturing the character, the invisible energy of the subject.”

Kristin Eyfells produced much of her work out of the couple’s home. And while he was the teacher in the family, she also made time to teach as well at the Maitland Art Center, Johann Eyfells said.

The couple had no children, and their relatives all remain in Iceland, Johann Eyfells said. Baldwin-Fairchild Funeral Home, Goldenrod Chapel, is handling arrangements.

Eyfells’ Cosmic Connection Sentinel 1999

ART

The Artist’s `Collapsions’ Receive Local Exposure

October 22, 1999|By Philip E. Bishop Sentinel Correspondent

At the opening of Johann Eyfells’ current exhibition, one of his former students, now a scientist, presented him with a piece of slate. The rock contained the fossilized imprint of a prehistoric sea creature. “See, it’s one of nature’s `collapsions,”’ the student said, laughing, as if nature had required millions of years to accomplish the enigmatic art form – the “collapsion” – that has become Eyfells’ signature invention.

The gallery at the University of Central Florida has installed a dozen or so of Eyfells’ collapsions in honor of his retirement last year from the university’s art department. A companion selection of framed collapsions on paper and cloth is on view at the Warehouse Gallery in Orlando. And for several months now, downtown office workers have been strolling past a setting of three Eyfells sculptures at Orlando City Hall. All this local attention comes after a run of quite astounding international success. In 1992, Eyfells received a solo exhibition at the national museum of his native Iceland and the next year was featured in the Iceland pavilion at the Venice Biennale.

Eyfells’ sculpture has attracted attention at other international exhibitions in Milan and in Dubai in the United Arab Emirates, and this fall, his work was exhibited alongside such renowned artists as Louis Bourgeoise in the lobby of the United Nations building in New York City. Artists, like prophets, are seldom honored in their own country, so Eyfells’ current local exposure is our best chance to approach the work that has earned such respect in the international art world.

It’s not easy because, like so many contemporary artists, Eyfells didn’t just create art when he started. He has invented his own medium, his own form of art, even his own words – “collapsion,” “receptualism,” “truthicity” – for his form of art.

Typically, Eyfells takes a blank material, such as paper, folded cloth or rubber, and presses it for months between treated metal plates or gigantic molds. For the collapsions, he paints the bottom metal plate with a wet slurry or soup, then sandwiches paper or cloth between it and a top “stamp” plate of varying metal alloys.

Under prolonged pressure, the paper or cloth “meat” of this sandwich is shaped, stained and etched by the chemical reaction of slurry and metal. The resulting works are partly image. They bear the circular stamp of the plate, of course – and, within that, the image of a cross or a spiral is often clearly intelligible. But they are also partly sculpture. The cloth collapsions can be unfolded to float eerily in the gallery space, and even the framed paper works are pressed and corroded into a three-dimensional form.

And that’s not all, Eyfells acknowledges, since the collapsion process is akin to “the family of printmaking and even photography.” These works are not so much “mixed” media as they are a hybrid medium all their own. “It’s an amazing kind of remote control,” Eyfells said in an interview, “a force field that both complies with what I want to happen and always comes up with surprises.” Gravity and corrosion do the work of the artist’s hand; they do his will.

The titles indicate the elemental quality of these mysterious works: “Ghost Encounters,” “Difference as Essence,” “Coordinates Undetermined.”

The most challenging of all Eyfells’ works are probably the gigantic rubber collapsions, of which UCF is presenting three, the largest more than 16-feet square. This one, titled “Exemplars,” contains the imprint of shapes resembling tree stumps, arranged in two irregular concentric circulars. Wood chips cover the work’s surface in the negative space between these images. Here Eyfells has used the modern material of rubber to mimic the petrifaction of wood, a collapsion that nature accomplishes over eons. The scale of the works is no homage to the virtuoso achievement of the artist, although these works are incredibly laborious to create – and all of it by hand, no bulldozers allowed. Rather, they pay tribute to the vast scale of the natural world, which finally humbles anything that human artists can fit inside an art gallery.

Nowi Dawni Mistrzowie / New Old Masters

It makes sense that the noted critic Donald Kuspit, writing in 1992, would associate Eyfells’ sculpture with “Robert Smithson’s earth art as a kind of rebellion against the modernist idea of sculpture as construction.” But, ironically enough, mammoth earth works like Smithson’s “Spiral Jetty” and James Turrell’s Rhoden Crater project rely on civilization – they do use bulldozers. As Kuspit noted, “Eyfells takes sculpture back to its prehistory in nature, obviating the civilized idea of it as the engineering of space.” At the same time, Eyfells’ methods – especially the painting of the bottom plate with slurry – shares much with the abstract expressionism current during his youth. “I’m like Jackson Pollock,” the artist says with a laugh, “except I paint from below.”

Iceberg2

Eyfells’ process is also rooted in his geographic and geological origins, as UCF gallery director Kevin Haran remarks in his brochure commentary. Iceland is a place where Earth’s seething core is near the surface, bursting through in hot springs and scraped bare by glaciers. It has no deep cushion of alluvial soil like the Mesopotamian flood plains, no 30-foot layer of buffalo dung like North America’s prairies. In Iceland, human civilization holds on by its fingernails. So it makes sense that this Icelandic artist – acclaimed as one of Iceland’s greatest living artists – should have retraced the history of art back to before the cave paintings and those first stone-chipped figurines. Eyfells’ difficult and mysterious art hearkens back to the first art that humans recognized, those fossils and formations left by the cosmic hand of nature.

Philip E. Bishop is professor of humanities at Valencia Community College.

United Nations Exhibit Orlando Sentinel 1999

Sculptor’s Audience Is International

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“Work by past University of Central Florida professor, Jóhann Eyfells, will be in a United Nations exhibit. “You never know what this will lead to,” he said.

August 1, 1999 By Margaret Sloane Sentinel Correspondent

OVIEDO – Artist Johann Eyfells will have an international stage for his art.

The sculptor has been notified that one of his creations was chosen to be displayed in an art exhibition at the United Nations in New York City.

“It’s really wonderful to be part of something as top-notch as this show,” said the 76-year-old artist. “You never know what this will lead to.” One of his complex and philosophical pieces from a collection he calls “cloth collapsions” was selected for the U.N. show. It will be shipped to New York for exhibition along with works by artists from 35 countries.

Eyfells, who was born in Reykjavik, Iceland, will represent his homeland at the U.N. exhibit, which will open in September. You might think Eyfells, after 30 years of teaching at the University of Central Florida, would look forward to a quiet retirement. Instead, Eyfells is forging into the commercial world of art with the same passion he taught his students at UCF.

Eyfells’ cloth collapsions have never been shown before, and he hopes to make a statement in the art world with his unusual creations.

“I consider my work sculpture even though the pieces consist of several layers of porous cloth, because I use sculpture elements such as metal disks or rings when designing them,” he said. Although the artist is enjoying worldwide acclaim, his heart is still in the community where he lives. Eyfells is particularly excited to play a role in giving Oviedo international recognition. “It’s a strong beginning in establishing Oviedo as an artist colony and a worldwide center for the arts,” he said.

With his years of mentoring students, Eyfells is amazed at the talent in the community. He thinks small cities such as Oviedo should capitalize on their homegrown talent. Barbara Walker-Seaman, owner of the Artistic Hand in Oviedo, was one of Eyfells’ first students at UCF 30 years ago. “I think it is very exciting that a local artist of his caliber is involved in such a prestigious show at the U.N. His work is so unique and full of energy. It stimulates the imagination,” she said.

Eyfells’ work is symbolic of his belief that it is the outer world that triggers what to do next, a concept that he calls “receptualism.” Receptualism has strong ties to the idea that man needs to pay more attention to the nature of things and to conserve the world.

Eyfells has recently sold a few pieces of his work from another collection. When asked why there seems to be a growing interest in owning his artwork, he said that his age probably has something to do with it. “It’s just a theory, but when an artist is getting on in years, people are more apt to buy some of his work,” he said.

Some of Eyfells’ sculptures grace the front lawn of his home on Tuskawilla Road in Oviedo. His work took top prize in the First National Sculpture Invitational Exhibition at the DeLand Museum in 1992 and has been exhibited worldwide in both private and public collections.

Eyfells plans a large one-man show of his work at the UCF art gallery in September. To view some of Eyfells’ work or to contact him, you can log on to: http://pegasus.cc.ucf.edu/jeyfells/

Jóhann is an explorer of the mind.

Spirals4

Jóhann, braving one of the worst rain downpours this city has ever experienced, came by to see me in Austin from Fredericksburg (1.5 hours away) to urgently talk to me about something. As we sat down over a warm cup of tea, he asked whether I was prepared to hear what he holds staunchly as his own conclusions about life, for which he felt he was repeatedly criticized and reproached throughout his life as an artist by many of his contemporaries.  He showed me a “Critique” of Nietzsche that he left for me to decipher.

Before I continue, I want to clarify some things that some of us may presume of this man. I know Jóhann to be a true intellect “par excellence”, in that his conclusions and understandings of life are not from the perspective of an impetuous egotist or self centered and thoughtless artist, but from his keen observations of life’s processes, that began very early in his own life. The innocence and constant curiosity he had as a child, is still to this day very much evident. For instance, as a seven year old boy he would keenly observe the spiral-like motions of swirling eddies on the edge of a fast moving Icelandic river, which would eventually lead him decades later to creating his giant monumental spirals.

Jóhann explores the mind to its deepest depths, the same way mankind today explores the vast expanse and mystery of the universe. I challenge anyone to explain to me the experiential difference.

After reading and deciphering two pages from this Nietzsche “Critique”, the following seems to be what drives Jóhann’s life and art:

Life goes beyond the limits that knowledge fixes for it, but thought goes beyond the limits that life fixes for it. Thought ceases to be a ratio, while life ceases to be a reaction. This is the essence of ART.”

I think visionary artists like Jóhann will doubt themselves at times and wonder if they are the genuine thing, the true spokesperson of the beyond, the channel for brilliance and God-like revelations.  Whist an artist is alive, his banal physicality stands before his extraordinary genius, but once departed from the physical world, the artist’s genius is then revealed for all to see and feel. Recognizing that brilliance, as observers, we often forget that such individuals were actually human.

Once Upon a Time in a remote little farm in Iceland

Ingólfur Eyfells, son of the artist Jóhann Eyfells, takes us on an in depth tour of the old Icelandic farm of his childhood, recollecting an event in which a horse saved his life. This is one of the stories that brings life and texture to A Force in Nature, a biopic of Jóhann Eyfells, an Icelandic sculptor working in the remote Hill Country of Texas.

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Ingólfur Eyfells and Hayden de M. Yates filming in Kalmanstunga, Iceland

https://vimeo.com/113375452

password: “spirals”

Poem #25 – Spontaneous, Yet Slow in Birth

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(click on picture – password: “spirals”)

SPONTANEOUS, YET SLOW IN BIRTH

intentions of man

impelled by active moments of formative forces

conceived in boldness

sanctioned in birth by perception

finding inner consummation

in pinnacled forms of climax

sustained will against random nature

spirit-obsessed impulse of expression

transcending the laws of organic survival

forms of faith-inspired matter-of-factness

belie ritual births measured and slow

in irrational spontaneity of conception

mastered by the whole of experience

skilled intentions exists in sculptured matter

J. Eyfells – Stonehenge – 1964