Emily Mark Fitzgerald explores William McKeown’s luminous paintings and their engagement with light, space and the present moment
In May 1945 the celebrated American poet E E Cummings created a fictional encounter with a would-be reviewer of his painting, an activity which he pursued alongside poetry throughout his lifetime:
“Why do you paint? / For exactly the same reason I breathe. / That’s not an answer. / There isn’t any answer. / How long hasn’t there been any answer? / As long as I can remember. / And how long have you written? / As long as I can remember. / I mean poetry. / So do I. / Tell me, doesn’t your painting interfere with your writing? / Quite the contrary: they love each other dearly. / They’re very different. / Very: one is painting and one is writing. / But your poems are rather hard to understand, whereas your paintings are so easy. / Easy? / Of course—you paint flowers and girls and sunsets; things that everybody understands. / I never met him. / Who? / Everybody.”
