No answers

"...This ? has trouble in mind: do not ask
why the wind broods, why the light is so unclean. ..."

From "?" by Randall Mann

Sago and ribbed pots

"...as blurred green summer, lifted
to its apex, succumbed to gravity and fell..."

From "Blur" by Andrew Hudgins

What do you think?

I think I found a potter whose work fits for my class art analysis.


Photograph by Sally Martinez.

Alice Cling is a Navajo potter, and her work just stopped me when I saw it.

And given the tension/resonance around old methods/tradition and new simplicity/markets, between the persistence of fired clay over time and the fragility of the whole pot, I think there's a lot to dig into in her work.

Damselfly paused

"Then I came to an edge of very calm
But couldn’t stay there. ..."

From "And water lies plainly" by Laurie Sheck

End of the season

"...time now for the soft vibrations of moths..."

From "Porch Swing in September" by Ted Kooser

Gilding and double-headed nail

"...one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet..."

From "On Living" by Nazim Hikmet
Translated by Mutlu Konuk and Randy Blasing

A leg up, a leg to stand on

Unfolding myself off the airport floor, I dropped my sketchpad and purse. !@#$%^!



As I fleshed out one leg, the other moved, then she's gone.

*****

And I need a leg up on a class assignment. As usual, I'm having trouble making up my mind.

The assignment? A critical analysis of a work of art having some connection to the topic "Time."

I keep wanting to do something with contemporary ceramics (and yes, I'm pretty drawn to Robert Arneson's self-portraits) because of the fun of a supposedly minor art's relative indestructability over time but...what do you think?

Chains and shards

"...anything
can ferment, given opportunity, given terra cotta..."

From "In Antigua" by Kerri Webster

Back door and panes

"...this sky in the dream
I'm having of meeting you..."

From "To the Reader: Polaroids" by Chase Twichell

After reading Shelly's Friday Sept. 21 post

The junkyard

I think I get it now: persona not chassis, not even
much more than a paint job, that beautiful glossy
surface we spent centuries of childhood assembling
as if the self were a prized model car, lacquer and dope
finally sanded down by time to show the surprise—
base gold—beneath. Listen: our toy trannies mewling
as the gears wear to smooth circles, our gilded pinstripes
unraveling with a hiss to run off like garden snakes in
the junkyard, molting in rust, grass-green in new skin.

*****

Thanks for the inspiration, Shelly.

We have class project, and blog, lift-off.

Remember the bunch of ideas I had for my Liberal Arts Perspectives class final project?

I now have an okay from my professor to pursue one of them, and I'll blog about the work in progress here.

Take a look, and if you can join me in the process I'd be delighted!

A sequence of moments

Harsh light, tired people, and one bouncy curly little girl.



People moving through a hotel lobby, currents and flow reminding me of water simmering.



Too tired to draw but trying anyway -- strong Georges de La Tour light, hands cupping a PDA.

Through the brush...

...a clearing, but I'm not out of the mudflats yet.

"Wish I were here"

"...Sending these postcards to the self at home:
Sunlight on pouring water..."

From "The View at Pisgah" by Howard Nemerov

(Off to sojourn in the workin' whirled, will post more Friday the 21st, will comment as I can.)

2 Much

A little 2 much going on with work and such to share more goodness right now.
And thus I'm a bit blue.

I'm about to lift off and travel for business, but if you have time, find me poems with colors of blue, and scatter URL trails of breadcrumbs in the comments.

That way, we'll all enjoy another kind of (happy) blue, and I'll comment back as I can!

(Sporadic posting until next Friday, but you know I can't stay away for long.)

Foley artistry

"Foley" was scrawled on the pole, so I went wandering in search of another Foley artist.

Fluorescence

"...Think of the wren
and how little flesh is needed to make a song. ..."

From "Why Regret?" by Galway Kinnell

Yesterday's news

"...I've seen it for myself, their genius—
how they transform the useless..."

From "Darwin's Finches" by Deborah Digges

Wrappered

"...or speak in cabbage
language of the meanings within meanings..."

From "The Cabbage" by Ruth Stone

Remembering warmer seas

"...composites of limestone calculated down to the animal
that laid upon it and quietly died..."

From "Koi" by Katie Ford