Endless Night

Welcome to 2015, my lovely readers and what a splendid year it should prove to be!  There are a veritable bevy of gorgeous exhibitions littering the horizon, including one this autumn on the artist Edward Robert Hughes.  Probably better known as 'The Other Hughes', he is best known for late Victorian, Pre-Raphaelite influenced works, including this one...

Night with her Train of Stars E R Hughes

Dark hair and dress, Night flutters through the sky, shushing a baby who scatters poppies into the air, which turn into a flight of golden birds.  All is movement, travel, but on silent wings, and cherubs cling to the folds of her dress.  I can't quite work out her wings, it is as if another figure of equal size to her travels behind her, just out of our sight.

Night and Sleep Evelyn de Morgan

It is not unusual for Night to travel with a companion; de Morgan shows us two androgynous figures, swirling through the sky.  Night leads Sleep, shelters them, while Sleep rains down poppies, symbol of both dreams and death.  The sky is not dark, but Night seems to be holding up a cloak that symbolises the night sky and both have closed eyes.  I love the echoes in the figures, the girdle and the shoes, the cloak held by night and the robe worn by sleep.  Night leads us, protects us and we are powerless but to echo its movement.

The Spirit of the Night Constance Phillott

More often than not, Night is a woman and there is a feeling of protection, of a mother tucking in her children to sleep.  Because of the darkness, the deep colouring of the robes, there is also a slight hint of threat. Night covers and smothers, Night renders us unconscious and the poppies speak both of dreams and death.  The bats that fly Phillott's Night are not comforting or protective and she looks like Death, rather than Night, about to engulf the slumbering young woman.

Night and Sleep (1894) Simeon Solomon

When Night and Sleep appear together, they can appear like lovers.  Solomon's images of Sleep and Dreams often have them intertwined, echoing lovers in the night, bound by darkness.  Possibly the safety of the dark can enable love, allowed by Society or otherwise, to express what cannot be looked upon in the light of day, expressed and explored.  Night can allow things to happen, things to be seen that would otherwise not be approved of.

Night (1885) Heinrich Faust

Moon Nymph Luis Falero

The sexuality of Night, Night as a saucy nymph, is expressed in works such as the ones above.  Again I have to call for a full exhibition of Falero's work because it is delicious.  Night as wanton streaker, her skin glowing like the moon, her hair as dark as the night sky, is the flipside of Night as Mother.  This is not a woman who wants to tuck you up and she certainly doesn't seem to want any sleep.  The presence of bats reflects the animalistic nature of Night, unruly, somewhat demonic but irresistible.

Night Edward Burne-Jones

Night Wilfred Gabriel de Glehn

When not enticing the viewer to nocturnal orgies, Night can appear as a solitary, almost lonely figure.  Night can be a time when we feel alone, that all other people are absent from our landscape and we travel friendless and unaided.  Burne-Jones' Night floats, her face turned away, unaware of our presence and de Glehn's figure closes her eyes, her arms protectively across herself.  Night is often a time for worry, the unending roll of thought which is devoid of light or hope.  Night sees no company, no help, she travels alone.  In the endless stasis of the night, we feel vulnerable like de Glehn's figure, yet completely alone.  There is no threat, nor any company, in the landscape of the night, so why do we feel so afraid? Possibly it is the darkness, disguising the things we fear, the eternal anticipation of attack as they remain unseen, untackled.  All we need to do is wait for morning, and all can be revealed and relieved.

Dawn Frank Dicksee

 Night, for once almost recognisably male, is driven from his position by the glory of Dawn, who seems a nice girl if a little ostentatious. There is nothing dynamic about Night who looks, for want of a better word, sad, weary, and just trundling off down from the hill.  Dawn seems to be shouting 'Ta Dah!' in a golden triumph of rebirth, but the figures echo each other, her swirl of scarf becoming Night's mists.

On the Wings of Morning E R Hughes

So back to Hughes, and the coming of the dawn over the landscape of night.  Dawn is winged, like Night and her confetti of birds shower from her pastel wings and the blush of the clouds. Below her, bats of night turn to birds of day.  Her face is definitely one of triumph, day over night, life over death, hope over despair.  She, like Night, is alone, but she is flying towards something, bringing with her the day in all its golden splendor.

We are past the shortest day of the year and although our nights are long, Spring is coming.
Sleep well, dear readers.

Night (19th Century) Unknown American Photographer