Smith & Sun
Infinite moon
Infinite moon
Regular price
£135.00 GBP
Regular price
Sale price
£135.00 GBP
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The front of the pendant hosts an abstracted moon face. A symbol of subtlety, clarity, reflection, and indirect deduction - this distorted moon face, reflects back at you.
"The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right"
There are two sides to this hefty Bronze piece.
On the back we see 4 spirals etched and oxidised into bronze - representing balance, balance between night and day, life and death, sea and earth, self-realisation and connection...The Circle is the Dot, and the Dot is the Circle...unending...The spiral of infinite flow.
I would actually be happy to have this on a long bronze keychain - each to their own. there is only one like this : )
From our AW19 collection: The Moon and The Yew Tree
Inspired by the Sylvia Plath's poem:
This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.
The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue.The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God
Prickling my ankles and murmuring of their humility
Fumy, spiritous mists inhabit this place.Separated from my house by a row of headstones.
I simply cannot see where there is to get to.
The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,White as a knuckle and terribly upset.
It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet
With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.Twice on Sunday, the bells startle the sky — Eight great tongues affirming the Resurrection
At the end, they soberly bong out their names.
The yew tree points up, it has a Gothic shape.The eyes lift after it and find the moon.
The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. How I would like to believe in tenderness – The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, Bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.
I have fallen a long way. Clouds are flowering
Blue and mystical over the face of the stars
Inside the church, the saints will all be blue,Floating on their delicate feet over the cold pews, Their hands and faces stiff with holiness. The moon sees nothing of this. She is bald and wild. And the message of the yew tree is blackness – blackness and silence.
