I have endeavoured to capture the spirit of the music and words, as this monumental piece moves along its journey, always bearing in mind the cost to humanity.
Britten himself used Owen’s words to preface his piece:
“My subject is War, and the pity of War,
The Poetry is in the pity …
All a poet can do today is warn .”
Each print is 33cm x 50cm, in an edition of 10 using handmade paper from Moulin de Larroque, Couzes, France. Each is individual due to the nature of the paper and the printing process. This is important as the handmade paper represents human skill and individuality – as every soldier was an individual, loved by their friends and family for being themselves.
Bells toll, music and voices rise in intensity, you can hear death’s heavy footsteps coming ever closer. And then the angels sing. Flashes of light, explosions, gunfire. The scarred landscape riven with trenches, searchlights bearing down upon men and machines. The countryside turning from green to red with the blood of the dead. “What passing bells for these who die as cattle?”
I found the marks included here, and in most of the prints from within Britten’s music. Many are taken from the small sketchbook I filled when listening to a live dress rehearsal in Aachen in 2011, others from the larger sketchbook I used when I finally started my interpretation in mid-2013. The words from the Requiem Mass and those of Wilfrid Owen’s poems also gave rise to gestures, shapes, marks and colours as I worked towards a coherent representation of this monumental piece of music, distilling the journey into a series of eight prints.
The treble chorus appear three times within the music. Each time I represent them with a shining veil-like screenprint. Here, their light is obliterated by the dark menacing green of encroaching danger.
Dies irae l
Fanfares of trumpets, and the insistent choir calls all to “this day of wrath … When the judge shall come”. Shells fall and bombs explode, obliterating men from the earth and their families. Evening comes and “Bugles sang, saddening the evening air … Voices of boys were by the river-side. Sleep mothered them”.
Here I have used the birth certificate of my Great-great Uncle, Harry Alfred George Hayter, who served as a Private in the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry, to represent all of those who have died in wartime. The Mother and Son are entwined, yet will be blown apart by the blast or fall under the shells and shrapnel. Using the imagery of the river, the lamentation upon the judgement of the world flows over and around them.
I was thrilled when Dies irae l won the John Purcell Paper Prize at the RE’s National Open Print Competition in London, 2015.
Dies irae ll
Dies irae lll
The darkest part of the War Requiem, as the choir announces that that “this day of wrath Shall consume the world in ashes”. Light and hope are extinguished with death. And then the darkness is pierced with a beautiful lament for mercy. “Move him into the sun … If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know.”
Amidst dissonant bells the Soprano sings, flanked by a towering mass of humanity, as they repeat “Blessed is he who cometh in the name of the Lord”. The colours are deliberately sharp and sea-like, representing a sea of tears.
Within the print is a photograph of Panel 6 from the Ploegsteert Memorial to the Missing, as this includes the name of my Great-great Uncle, Harry Alfred George Hayter, a Private in The Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry, who died on 11 April 1918 aged 19.
The end of the journey, through the tunnel and into “the perpetual light” and peace. There is a meeting, “I am the enemy you killed, my friend” and reconciliation “Let us sleep now …”
A while after completing the series, I saw a documentary which included aerial photographs of Ypres and the surrounding area. I was stunned by the images: gashes in the landscape, craters, lines of trenches and piles of rubble – as they were also in my sketchbook, drawn in charcoal as I had listened to the music. Benjamin Britten had put these images into music, and I had found them.
For someone whose work usually celebrates life and joie de vivre, this interpretation took me well out of my comfort zone. It remains the most challenging series I have created so far.