“Blake is everywhere but in the ground.”

A large crowd had gathered under the plane tree that had sprung from the head of Blake’s memorial in London’s Bunhill Fields Burial Ground. Hymns were sung and eulogies were expressed: “How Blake influenced my 1992 album”; “How Blake helped me through my dark days.” “How he enlightened my understanding of art.” “How he taught me to rebel.”

Away from the crowd, a lone figure sat painting, absorbed. We recognised him as a young artist who had quietly sat drawing at the first Glastonbury William Blake Festival held the evening before. We walked closer. He didn’t look up but instead turned his painting to show us. Sprites, elementals, and spirits swirled across gravestones and through trees as an ancient, mystical Bunhill Fields flowed from the canvas. “Blake is everywhere but on the ground,” he said, pulling the painting back under his gaze and continuing.