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Inspired by a visit to the Ibrahim El-Salahi Exhibition at the Tate Modern London.
It was an era of grand diplomacy. Citroen created alluring sculpted works of art that defined the decade.
Old books in libraries, stories captured the imagination
and bought dreams to life.
The typography; works of art, the
lines dancing across the pages: suggestive of meanings.
The text spread across the leaves beautifully evolved, you longed to turn them to discover the mysteries that lay there-in.
The anticipation, the words never disappointed.
They fallowed the mind, you felt the texture of every leaf turned: a gift to the eye.
The cover of books: a work of art.
BOAC and Air France motifs: exotic lands to visit.
The painted black figures of Ibrahim El-Salahil: lithe and sculpted: they conveyed hope.
The endless elegant angular lines flowed.
Now, I wondered no more: the typed texts, it is as it is, the mass production of imagery has null the senses, seldom do they awake the imagination out of slumber, for we have seen the extremes, unimaginable places from where the mind seek solace.
