As one project ends, the next looms large

Frieda Hughes reflects on the creative process as she moves between her two worlds – painting and writing

The Eye of the Storm

“Will you rest now?” they ask, as I step

Into the space between happenings

And stack dishes and clear surfaces

From the last exhibition, and white-spirit away

The oil paint smears on black jeans from my studio.

Smelling delightful I nod and I lie,

While the next project boils in the cauldron of my brain,

And I scribble notes for the book

That is taking its shape from events I cannot escape.

They eat through my irreplaceable days

As if they were cheese and not diamonds.

When it all ends as it must, as proof of life,

I will hold it up for you to have a look, and I’ll say:

“This is what I made from what I could not change.”

As I work, I watch the raven from the kitchen window

Strut across the lawn, his corvid cry

Streaking the sky above the tree-top magpie

And the robin that waits in the hawthorn by the door

In the eye of the storm.