Dear to the muses and Hecate, the mother goddess of dark, chthonic places and witchcraft, cyclamen is the flower of opposites. In folklore it symbolised life and death; an ingredient of wedding cakes to increase fertility yet a woman who walked barefoot on cyclamen would abort; both a love potion and a gracious farewell to love: Cyclamen as its name implies means cycle.
I was listening to Schubert’s ‘Nacht und Träume’, half awake at six in the morning on the radio and I saw the colours gold on black. I cast about for an as yet unused image that I could transpose into the gold-black bower of my Schubertian reverie. The image of young Burce from Turkey holding the cyclamen posy seemed promising. Taken on the first of October I was unsure what to do with the shoot, Schubert gave me the key. Today is Halloween.