The Art of Curating

Here’s another poem I’ve written for my Portsmouth Museum residency –

by Aoife Mannix
inspired by Rosalinda Hardiman’s exhibition voice over

To care for the colours on the walls,
the fragments of wine glasses
resurrected in the memory
of seventeenth century dances.

Sundials spotted on walls
to be smashed in case of fire.
A snake that slipped through her hands,
an unknown number of bed bugs
humming in a drawer.

The art of arranging teacups
for a lady who raced motor cars,
an old man who gave away his mirrors.

These reflections are hung
with tender kisses to mark
the passing of thousands of years.
The profound curiousity of the curator
with the magpie eyes,
two for joy, one for sorrow.


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