Notes — Rina Repina

Poppies play a significant role in modern-day Britain as a symbol of remembrance of military effort and wartime sacrifice. This tradition was inspired by In Flanders Fields, a war poem written during the First World War (1915) by John McCrae, a Canadian poet and soldier.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

In Flanders Fields (1921).
Illustrated page by Ernest Clegg.

As a “legal alien” in London, I can normally only respectfully witness themes like this unfolding from afar. Their culmination is Remembrance Day, observed on 11 November to recall the end of the First World War hostilities (“at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month” of 1918).
Royal ceremonies.
Military processions.

At some point in October, I notice people from the veterans’ association fundraising at the entrances of tube stations, selling all sorts of tiny red poppies: metal, plastic, wood.
Passers-by beginning to wear these artificial poppies, mostly as brooches, for everyone to see.

I bought a poppy in a shopping centre in my very first autumn in London and carefully put it in a special box. Shared memories, especially of somebody else’s glorious dead, are too fragile to dive into headfirst.

This year is different.

A large installation is being prepared at the Tower of London, featuring thousands of ceramic flowers. It is already the second iteration: previously, in 2014, the same poppies, in far greater numbers, turned the Tower’s moat red.
This year, as a volunteer, I was also involved.

As with anything down to earth, this assignment was less about storytelling or being incorporated into a shared tradition, and more about physical effort to provide its tangible manifestation for somebody else.
Collect the rods, adjust the rubber discs, be mindful of the real museum exhibits in front of you on the Tower’s grass, under a surprisingly not-so-friendly London sun.
Seek the shade. Stay hydrated.

Today, we made the last one.

Planting poppies at the Tower

Further reading