Exhibition & Galleries

Temporary Exhibitions

Foundling Tales

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Subhadassi’s Commissioned Poem

Text and Images from Westminster Kingsway College

Haikus from Scene and Heard

Thanks

La Sainte Union

Eight students from La Sainte Union School spent a day working with Subhadassi at the Foundling Museum. Here are a selection of the poems they wrote.

Your Mother Will Return

I’m old and grown

still mindful, mourning,

commemorating the death

of Charles Earl -

I now sit here as Jacob Browne

with this broken glass,

this reminder

of that mournful day.

It is cutting, cutting deep.

The blood of Jacob Browne

runs through my fingers

like the tears from my mother’s eyes

on that day.

It cuts through my hand

like it does through my soul.

Naomi

That Day

She gave him this object -

small, sharp and clear.

Not a word was spoken,

just an expression of emptiness.

I can still see her look

at this anxious little child

who had not a clue.

Feelings of ostracism

is all I remember

on that day my mother

gave me a present, then walked away.

Heather

At The Orphanage

The thunder of black balls became a rustle.

I prayed for a colour

and down the gangway rolled the ball,

a sphere the shape of a mother’s sooted throat -

saved the wretch from its mother’s mess,

gave the child the chance of a home.

They said I could leave a token,

but what had I to give?

To you who I could not come for,

to you who were not mine.

I left you your name

and the day you were born,

handed you over

and hoped you would see love.

Rhona

My Pen

He handed me my brand new pen with a smile.

I knew there were tears.

As he held my hand tight

and gave me a wink

he said “Remember me by it,

remember all these years.”

The ink has run out

but this feeling hasn’t disappeared.

Our years, our love, our sorrow -

nothing has been forgotten.

Can’t you see that you’re still in my life?

Gaby

Abandonment

Abandonment of a child, separated from love.

Given to remember or just saying goodbye -

its simple shape separated in two halves.

The departure of a mother, the tale is forgotten.

Luck for the future, memory of the past.

The token will last longer than the suffering it holds.

Maria   

My Mother Left A Gift

As I sit here in this lonely room, with nowhere else to look

I take this pendant in my palm

and remember our last meeting.

She took it from her scented neck

and placed it around mine,

then told me what it meant.

“The pearly heart shows your innocence,

while the gems show our family

and the base, like love, holds us together.”

This pendant was a gift from the beaches of France.

Father left it where she slept

and now it is in this small palm.

Mary

Forgotten

The clock strikes. The time has come.

His innocent eyes stare up at me.

I know in time I will be a memory.

I place the cold, broken coin around his neck

and hand him to her. A stranger.

She speaks but I do not hear.

I stand still, frozen.

The air is bitter, I cannot move.

Slowly they become a shadow.

I open my hand. The other half of the coin

stares back at me, small but gleaming.

All I have left.

Kathryn

Unknown

My love, my dearest, my only one,

I have to let go. Her innocence, her face unknown.

Does she know what is happening?

That token and her, waiting for belonging.

I want them both to have a home.

Chaos surrounds me, I can’t concentrate!

I reach for it, too delicate to touch.

Treasure, I want it to remain

in her heart.

Next it’s us, this is my chance.

I place the figure into her palm.

Her face stays unknown. She’s gone.

Siân

   Matt Cook, Artist becomes aeroplane, photograph © Richard Huw Morgan. 

  Alex Pearl, drawing for the Foundling Opera, 2007

  Tom Cox-Bisham, Dessert Monuments, 2007