Vespers

Poet cries out to painter, craft me an eloquent verse with charmed couplets rhyming emotion and the painter replies, poet, paint me a joyful canvas splashing beauty on in layers And when they sweated they wiped each other's brow and when they tired they steadied each other's arm until...

– Manolis

The making of paintings and the writing of poetry are solitary activities. They are the property of the senses and are often beyond reason's frail reach.

I consider poetry the highest of the art forms, so it was with surprise and delight I learned that Manolis, an exceptionally fine poet, was interested in a collaboration of our efforts. The results are this beautiful book.

Like Manolis, I was not born in this country we now call Canada. I am an immigrant in a long line of immigrants reaching back over millennia to the first human beings who came to populate this continent.

I was drawn to this immense country of countless shape-shifting places, from the stories recounted by an old Portuguese whaler when I was a child. Over more than fifty years later, I am left with a sense of wonder and a profound gratitude for my good fortune to be part of this place.

The works in this book have been made from curiosity, desire and discipline. I hope they engage you as much as they have us who made them.

– Ken Kirkby, Canadian painter