Whistler’s Boatman

for Chris Wallace-Crabbe

Imagine the moment of hesitation:
the catch in his voice,
knowing
he could not turn back: after years
up and down the river, a request
piping up — Do you suppose
you could teach me to paint?
Teach the secret alchemy
of colours?
The physical pleasure
of brushwork? Let’s make a two-part invention
on canvas.
I imagine the boatman understood
Whistler’s complaint against the critics.
Of his symphony in white — Yes,
there is yellow, brown, blue
and also other hues. ‘Does he then believe
that a symphony in F
contains no other note,
F, F, F…?
Fool.’ The gleam of poisonous lead brilliance
emerging through force, the single-minded
touchstone.
From the oar to the brush, from mud-
bottomed river to the peculiar chemistry
of the palette, it is all one action,
one arc, one journey through the shimmering sludge.

Kate Middleton is a Melbourne poet, and ABR's featured poet of the month.

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