The Abduction

I made this sculpture with the old Swedish fairy tale ‘The Abduction’ in mind.

The story goes that a young girl went to the woods to gather fir cones. Feeling tired she sat down next to a hill and as she leant against the rock it opened up and she was invited inside by the king of the mountain. All night she danced and feasted with the beautiful people, but in the morning she woke up outside the hill with her basket of fir cones.
‘I must have been dreaming’, she told herself and walked home. But a new family now lived in her old house and she didn’t recognise anyone in the village.
Nobody knew her.
Finally an old man said he had heard stories about an old couple who had lost their daughter in the woods many years ago when he was a child.

This is an image of the original plaster sculpture, but it is available in ceramic see torsos and also in bronze – see bronzes

“The Abduction”, a poem by Abraham Gibson, follows the picture of the sculpture, “The Abduction”.


Sculpture by Anna Keiller, poem by Abraham Gibson.

The Abduction

A kiss is a weapon

it can strike you

Or stand guard… about your world

Loneliness is not bitter

if there is

… sun light in your soul

We do not care for summer

the birds chatter too loudly

the branches

… steal light

from the sky

Music is not ours

if we cannot hear its heart beat

love is not content

if we…

cannot hear its sigh

He found her sensuality

beautiful / disturbing

it reached him…

through her breath

over miles


across streams

The sun filtered

through the trees

like ribbons

The deeper he ventured

into the forest

the tighter

the ribbons

wrapped around his veins!

Be my soldier

Be my king

Hold me while I sleep

Be my soldier

Be my king!

Madness is a holding fast

and a letting go

His melancholy a dance with pain

that aches with hope

How do you keep a song quiet

that entices your every mood

if he could hear this music…

Who else could?

Their meeting place

was stained

ram shackled

danced over

And she has never been seen again

half of his mind…

still waits for her

half of his mind!

half of his mind

is being chased by the grief

Be my soldier

be my king

Be my soldier

be my king!

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