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What we see isn’t there
When I was a child, I came across an old book of prints tucked away in a dark corner of the library. There was a particular print which caught my eye. It was called Relativity by the artist Escher. I was drawn in by the faceless people (or was it one person) walking up and down the never-ending stairs and the scenes outside the windows — each one right in itself but contorted into different planes when seen as a whole.
Maurits Cornelis Escher was born on 17th June 1898 in Leeuwarden, Netherlands. He was a sickly child who was sent to a special school at seven. Whether it was due to ill health or lack of ability, he went on to flunk all his grades. But one thing Escher exceled at was drawing. As a child he was always sketching (usually outside) — studying nature — things like insects, plants or landscapes.
As he developed, Escher extended his range into woodcuts and lithographs and, over time, his creations became more and more complex. Strange and intricate scenes that baffled the eyes. Optical illusions that didn’t make sense. Impossible constructions with ladders going up and down all at once. He drew water channels that travelled the wrong way, carved fish that morphed into birds and those never-ending staircases — perhaps an inspiration for J K Rowling?
