In celebrating the last day of November 2011, I wanted to introduce you to a very special man who I admire. His name is Edward James. I’ve known about Edward for several years now since I love the unique artists of the world and was immediately gravitated to him. As you may know, I love surreal art and especially sculptures. Edward was even friends with one of my other favorite artist, Salvador Dali. When sculptures and garden are combined, it does wonders to one’s imagination. Gardens represent a place to reflect, walk around or just be one with nature. Edward James was able to create a dream garden that was expelled from his imagination in the deep jungles of Mexico which is now called “Las Pozas”. It is here that he felt at peace and tranquility from the hurried life of the outside world. Edward James was able to walk around his massive garden and enjoy the waterfalls and pools in his compound. Neighbors were allowed to come in and splash around in the pool with the “big eye”. If you have never heard of him, I would suggest reading up on his interesting and eccentric life and watch one of his documentaries of his garden. I’m still so fascinated by his works of art and his love for nature. Most of his work reminds of scenes from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. But as nature has it, it consumes whatever gets in her way. If his garden is not taken care of, the jungle that has so gently nestled his artwork will disappear into the heart of the Mexican jungle. A man after my own heart; I would have loved to talk poetry, art and nature with him. I leave you with this poem he wrote.
I have seen such beauty as one man has seldom seen;
therefore will I be grateful to die in this little room,
surrounded by the forests, the great green gloom
of trees my only gloom – and the sound, the sound of green.
Here amid the warmth of the rain, what might have been
is resolved into the tenderness of a tall doom
who says: ‘You did your best, rest’ – and after you the bloom
of what you loved and planted still will whisper what you mean.
And the ghosts of the birds I loved, will attend me each a friend;
like them shall I have flown beyond the realm of words.
You, through the trees, shall hear them, long after the end
calling me beyond the river. For the cries of birds
continue, as – defended by the cortege of their wings –
my soul among strange silences yet sings.
—Edward James, Poet 1907 – 1984