Verse, Visuality and Vision: The Challenges of Ekphrasis in Ciaran Carson’s Poetry
The first things I remember are the colours of my bedroom wallpaper, and their chalky taste under my fingernails. It would, of course, be years before I learned what the shades were called, which leads me to my first paint box. Hooker’s Green, Vermillion, Prussian Blue, Burnt Sienna: I knew stories must lie behind those names, and I resolved to discover them some day.1
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