Pet Inspiration

After getting a cat, I am surprised to find myself getting attached to him, as he is to me. Buddy, my cat, was given to my husband by his mother. She would go into the nursing home if he would take the cat. It was a deal only my mother-in-law could broach, mafia-like he “couldn’t refuse,” ha. Now that Buddy has taken over my house and favorite chair, he has also become an art inspiration. Mind control??

pencil sketchcat hairsnow cat, March 5

Love Poem

1

this book of love notes

lies next to our shopping list,

plans for meals,

to be placed on the lips

and savored.

 

2

circle of sun

warmth

of your embrace

perfect grace

 

3

Thanks for that middle-of-the-day phone call.

i hear your voice and instantly rejoice.

It is a balm in grey sky winter,

a holiday seaside calm.

 

4

as light fades

darkened by clouds and time

i wait

while cooking

while reading

for the click of your key

to unlock home

 

5

I whisper your name

in prayer

in supplication

to sooth

At night

I curl my arm around

your smooth flank

contour my body along yours

I whisper your name

a lullaby

 

6

curve of your body against mine

tells a complicated calculus of comfort

eclipse of day worries and heaven’s delights

Sonnet of the Frog

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Now comes the princess, fair and fine

Playing near pond fringed with grasses

Saying, “Watch this ball that is mine.”

I watch her as she passes.

 

The golden ball fallen in pond is my chance

It bounces, drops down muddy bottom stuck in the water

On my lily pad, I jump and do a waltz and dance

It is my own girl, I have waited for her.

 

“Come on back, come on back, take me with you.”

She hastens away, skirts flying behind, laughing in delight

I jump from the pond, leaping my green frog body fro and to

My princess when she hears me, exclaims in fright,

 

“Oh father, oh father, I know not this frog.”

I say, “My fair lady, you promised!” The king

proclaims sternly, “A promise is kept, even one from a bog.”

I ate from her plate, but she flung me away from her pillow. I went ping!

 

My request for the pillow denied

As princess and prince now we will abide.

morning travels

morning travels in light and shadow
singing to my feet
walk with me in sun and shade
caress me in the deep
wander to the harbor water
azure and curdled black
paper sails cast over sea
against the city streets

Apricot sun on route 95

And behind me

Still lavender blue night framed in my rear view mirror

I leave bare branch trees

Dark lines against my treasured city

Ahead wild seagulls whirl and dip

Angels of the refuse

Of our existence

                                                  3/24/2014

Slicing Through Artist Block: for my friend Vanessa

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There are those awful times when I didn’t feel like I’d ever have another idea.  For anything.  Everything I thought of, I’d already done several times over and I just can’t get motivated to do the next – dance with the same set of movements, another still life, or another poem about rain. I believe that you are your actions, rather than your thoughts and therefore, I could no longer count on my old identity as an artist.  (This is a somewhat comforting thought when you are occasionally homicidal toward coworkers or spouse or the really bad driver in front of you, as I am.)

In retrospect, I find that in those barren stretches I do things that eventually erupt into creativity again.  But I don’t realize it at the time.  Many of these times, I often feel the world heavy around me.  Or I’m running in too many directions because of desire to learn as much as possible about the world.  Or I wish to dissolve into fantasy (at which point I read a lot of novels).  I might be putting a lot of energy into work or politicking or socializing, or not have any energy at all.

Then, boom.  Something changes.  It could be as simple as the strep throat I am just getting over.  I  step back, slow down, and watch the world go by.  The ideas drift by like pollen in the spring air. Achoo, ideas start flowing into my thoughts and popping into my journals.  My journals start plumping.  It as if all that time I spent away from paints and song were simply a catalyst.

So here’s a list to step once more on the path of creation.  These are ideas for writing or art, my two main endeavors these days, but they are applicable to any art form.

1. Make your own list of things you’d like to do or learn but haven’t yet. Investigate what it would take to do one or two.  Maybe start one. (My latest favorites are jumping out of an airplane and learning welding.)

2. Work on writer’s prompts or art exercises.  You can find these on the web and in books.  My favorite books for writer’s prompts are Susan Wooldridge “Poem Crazy” and Josip Novakovitch “Fiction Writer’s Workshop.”  For art, I find inspiration reading books about symbolism in history and across cultures, or leafing through the art books I’ve accumulated.

3. Read books.  Go to museums.   Visit the theatre.  Enjoy friends.

4. Tell yourself you’re going to do something small.  Something that just takes 5 minutes.  A quick sketch or two of your cat.  A few random words about yourself or why you hate your boss.

5. Do something small as regularly as possible.  Maybe vow to make it once a day.  It’s okay if you don’t keep the vow and end up doing this once a week.  Keep going.

6. Turn off the media stream.  Give yourself some quiet time to think.  I like to take walks and just look and listen carefully.

7. Switch creative outlets.  If you’re a writer, try drawing.  If you’re a painter, try singing.  Sometimes trying something we don’t have any expectations of being good at is just what we need.  Beginner’s mind.  After, I find I approach my regular channels with that same beginner’s mind and a different perspective.

8. Do “morning pages,”  writing steadily for 3 pages anything that comes into your head.  Each day. (See rule above about daily work.) Don’t edit, don’t think much.  Try to spill words onto the page as fluidly and steadily as possible.  You can throw out the pages afterward.  I like doing this in the morning captivated by the warmth of a cup of coffee.  But any time in the day can work.

9. Remember the process of making art is the important part.  Whether the product is good or bad doesn’t matter.  The finished work is merely the by-product of the process.  Sometimes I like what I did. About 9 out of 10 times, I toss it in the garbage.

10. Be patient.  Know the muse will find you when you are both ready.  It will happen.