Vaughan Gunson: The Light is Inconsolable by Diane Stoppard, Arthur Fairley inspires creative narrative

The light on the water, one of Diane Stoppard's pinhole photography images from The Light is Inconsolable.

ART, LIGHT AND EVERYTHING

A book was delivered to me, a beautifully made codex of words and images. It was, like the first books, about light.

I read on the opening pages that "the light likes to be liked".

I don't think so, it's only us who cares. The light isn't on Facebook. But I was intrigued and read some more.

Like smoke rising, one of Diane Stoppard's pinhole photography images from The Light is Inconsolable.

As I did, I was lifted up out of my home, like Dorothy lifted by the wind and transported to Oz.

Up high, I see below a lone figure on a track climbing towards Mount Manaia: "I watch as you walk under a sky overcome by yesterday's rain."

It's early morning, the land looks like it's drying itself off. Mist clings to the bush-clad slopes.

Internal music, one of Diane Stoppard's pinhole photography images from The Light is Inconsolable.

I turn a page, and I'm flung to another scene like a female dancer thrown by her male lead - the trick, to make it look like it wasn't anticipated.

I'm told: "About devotion, the light on the water has a thing or two to say …"

It isn't said though, and I'm left waiting, wondering who is devoted to who (or what)?

The dance continues across the water. Dark clouds are squeezing down on the light.

The horizon promised, one of Diane Stoppard's pinhole photography images from The Light is Inconsolable.

Back to ground on a stony beach, the silhouette of a twin-masted sailing boat looks thin and fragile on the horizon. The rocks in the shallows are more solid.

I turn another page. I'm reminded how you said, "the light is inconsolable".

When you first told me, I didn't know what you meant. And I don't understand now. Maybe it's something that can't be explained.

I can see what you mean, though, when you say the light is beguiling, and that all we can ask for and receive is "a presence".

The temp Storm, one of Diane Stoppard's pinhole photography images from The Light is Inconsolable.

I sit down on a grassy bank overlooking the beach. The dark clouds have dissipated. It's now a day that brings people to the edge of the water, to see the light.

On page 25, did you want to say "clouds budding in the sky" or not? I'm glad you did. I looked up to check if they were.

It's inevitable after looking upwards—an unnatural pose, even for bird watchers - that we lower our sights to the horizon.

But we should know how "unkind a horizon actually can be". We can push out too often for our own good. We can be seduced by the "lilt of light" that is "far across lake waters", forgetting to touch the objects near to us.

The cover of The Light is Inconsolable.

At midday, the sun flattens the land in a "deep pool of silence". I lie back and snooze. I sleep deep and long. I wake to a "slow leaking of ambient light".

Groggily, I reach again for the book that has become my guide. First, the pictures come into focus, then the words. It's with the words I stay.

You tell me: "water and light acquiesce", and that "we of the horizon we don't understand".

I think maybe I'm beginning to.

Sometimes the light of the sky floods the land, and there is no reason why. Boundaries are submerged.

The light is fading now, I cannot stay much longer. To Diane and Arthur, a grateful acknowledgement, you have given me the pieces that I can work into some coherence.

We all have an "internal music organised by porous chance". And we can all "chop chunks out of a sky" to make it our own.

• All quotations from poems by Arthur Fairley from the limited edition book, The Light is Inconsolable. Photographic images, using a pinhole camera, by Diane Stoppard. Books available from Hangar Gallery and Intec Interiors in Whangārei.