The Life-Illusion

'The Hunters in the Snow' by Pieter Bruegel the Elder (1565) Place is inescapable. Place, situation, locality, is the only constant of human existence. It is a flesh, a prison, an endowment, an anchor, a load to bear. It is impossible to transcend and it is sublime.  A part of our species being is the relentless search for ancient wisdom. We invoke a spiritual (transcendental, divine) dimension to this found wisdom. However, the old wisdom is not the Word, but words. The truth cannot be contained in a single book, but is an ongoing process of many books. A vast multiverse of culture, art, writing, music; this is the wisdom. And what we share with the old wisdom is an earthly existence. The old wisdom, the old gods, the pagan gods, are human attributes made divine. A supernatural dimension between subject and object which explain the former’s orientation towards the latter. Landscape, art, text; these things are not separate categories but all part of the same

I've been progressing at a leisurely pace through Alexandra Harris' Romantic Moderns (2013). Unlike many of the other academic studies I have proposed to read which much of the time weave some wilfully obscure, theoretical line of reasoning, flexing their scholarly credentials in the process, Harris' thesis seems relatively simple by comparison, perhaps even academically naïve. However, what it lacks in depth it makes up for enormously in scope. Simply put, I have learnt a huge amount since I started reading it, savouring the rich variety and nuance of each chapter. It imbues its subjects with life and colour, written with documentary clarity. 'Stonehenge, Wiltshire' by John Piper (1981) Indeed, each chapter is like a little world in itself and much of my satisfaction emanates from how Harris disentangles the bundle of colours, feelings and ideas which constitute my understanding of that cultural milieu. Ranging across