“Certain gardens are described as retreats when they are really attacks.”
—ihf, “Unconnected Thoughts on Gardening.”

I first met Ian in 1967. I’d written him a letter requesting a meeting and an interview, for a research project on contemporary Scottish poetry. His answer, welcoming me with his customary openness and generosity, was dated “Jumy 3rd.” Rather than excusing the typo, he wrote: “It must be some sort of summer elephant.” For forty years thereafter, he never ceased to show me things as rare, as beautiful, as whimsical, or as sublime as summer elephants.

Ian Hamilton Finlay (1925-2006) was one of the great artists of his age, despite (or because of) the fact that he was never completely of his age. He stood in often solitary opposition to many of its major currents. He was a devout Classicist in an age of Romanticism. He used post-modernist techniques in profoundly pre-modernist ways. In a pacifist age, he embraced the iconography of war; the most peaceful of men, he was capable of the most refined and civilized anger. His imagery embraced wee Fife fishing boats and Pacific aircraft carriers with equal warmth. He fought constant battles with local authorities, Arts Councils, and all aspects of cultural orthodoxy. He was a 20th century avant-garde artist with roots deeply seated in the 18th century (or the Greek pre-Socratic philosophers—the rough track up to his garden at Stonypath bore the literal but profound admonition “The way up and the way down is one and the same”).

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posted on January 22, 2007 permalink | comments
cats: Features | Scotland
tags: Canada-Scotland | Ian Hamilton Finlay | Scotland-Canada | Stephen Scobie | contemporary poetry | poetry