that which can only be sung

Note prompted by the Guardian's Tate review of the Rossettis -- https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2023/apr/04/rossettis-review-tate-dante-gabriel-christina

My goodness, Mr. Jones, so what did you really think?

It was this silly "O the sexy" attitude toward DGRossetti that moved me to write my first novel. Beyond the general ignorance that he was painting icons, a whole world of history, an ever-expanding cosmos of other-Christian mysticism, and the present-day obsession with his Muse, it's the "omnipresent nameless girl" who haunts the artist’s (dgr) work...feeding "upon her face by day and night” as Jones writes, quoting Christina. My novel is about this "girl": who she really, truly, deeply is.

Sometimes, spirit has to be made flesh. Or words on paper. Who has seen the wind? Christina asks; this invisible movement that creates matter, time, space. Her brother saw it. He threw a coat of paint on it. Voila.

As Philo said, it's that which can only be sung.