a poetree grows in edinburgh
Recently in Edinburgh, something magical has been happening. A series of mysterious paper sculptures have been mushrooming daintily around the Scottish capital. Each one graces an august literary institution under attack from austerity cutbacks and public apathy; each one affirms appreciation “in support of libraries, books, words, ideas.” The first was found at the Scottish Poetry Library, and came with a gold-leafed paper egg filled with dissembled fragments of Edwin Morgan’s poem, “A Trace of Wings.” It was accompanied by a tag attached bearing this message:
Others followed, attuned to their respective sites and addressed, in a series of epistolary love letters, to the place’s Twitter account. For the Filmhouse—purveyors of “all things magic”—a miniature paper cinematheque rendered in medias res, replete with lounging viewers and charging steeds—all probably set to a silently epic score. Things got even more medieval at the Scottish Storytelling Centre, with the appearance of a newly hatched dragon, barely out of shell and nesting on a windowsill.
And then there were impossibly detailed feathered wings, bee-textured gloves and a T-rex emerging from a book, and forests and magnifying glasses, among others; ten anonymous paper sculptures in all. And finally, an explanatory note. Do click through to Central Station for a fuller report; the gorgeous images are by Chris Donia.
THE STATE is made possible by the support of readers like you. If you like what youʻre reading, please consider supporting THE STATE