Category: autobiography

Creativity

The muse demands attention, time, and willingness to make mistakes. They are fickle. Sometimes I hit a lovely poem or painting right away but more often it takes several tries, experiments, and manipulations of the material. Here’s a series of watercolor paintings I made of a lovely bouquet which was a work of art in itself (Thanks to the woman who put together this combination of flowers.) The first (with the lovely colorful background) seemed too tight, the second (the one that has Peter Max colors) was attempted using Procreate App on my iPad, the third (with more white space and a ladybug to offset the large flower at the bottom) is my favorite.

Lisa’s ghouls

I have difficulty sitting still at times so sometimes during writers’ group I sketch. Here, I was trying to imagine the ghouls in Lisa’s story. They were scary in the story but no matter how hard I try, my monsters always come out sorta cute.

I didn’t put paper to back the picture so some of the next page of my notebook came through. There’s a poem I’m working on, along with like sounding words. Also, I confess to endlessly drawing my cat.

Zoo

It’s fun to get out and experiment. Today I went to the zoo to sketch whatever animals I could find. The pelicans were standing around after eating, the bear dug itself a nest and fell asleep. And just as I was drawing a profile of the elephant, she turned her back to me and sauntered off.

Community and Creative Process

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I have lived in artistic communities since early adulthood. I love the energy, feel it even when I am alone in my room. There is affirmation of the value of creating within an art community. There is knowledge that process is important. The energy in a community where people participate in the creative process helps generate ideas, even as we disagree  about the relative value of specific pieces or particular forms of art.
Art for me has been a means of keeping an even keel in a crazy world.
Often when I create, whether a poem, a painting or a song, I don’t fully understand the symbols and juxtapositions of ideas until much later. Art is not a way to recreate reality, but distorts reality in order to fully portray it, like a curved glass will focus the sun’s rays on a single point, and result in a fire.

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photo of Baltimore rapper Wealth making a music video in Savage, Maryland.

 

Hamburg & Russell Street

Morning,

the young beggar stands,

blanket thrown over narrow shoulders,

flimsy white undershirt,

a pile of rags at his feet.

We in cars ignore him,

cast eyes at ruby stop light,

and rising cobalt sky.

Escaped sunflower,

sits in a car, a

moon faced woman

w/ styled bob,

reads her cell phone.

Wheeling seagulls

search for garbage.

Undershirt,

dull khaki jeans,

work boots,

he smokes the 2nd cigarette of the day,

carefully counts them out.

He carries his sign

with jaunty steps,

but

his eyes

are hollow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

full moon recall

dream
salt sea foam
clams scurry
dig themselves
into sand
as the waves recede
we are young
i wrap
burgundy and cobalt
gauze scarf
about my torso
my nipples show
i reach out
to touch
your silken sandy curls
as cigarette smoke
sinuously rises
your voice rumbles
weakens my knees

Transition: July 25, 2016

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Dark night,

sea seeps into sky.

I make footprints,

sand soft against my soles,

soft against my soul,

dipping my feet

at the ocean’s edge.

 

First light fills the sea.

Sable brushes

against sky.

Ebony ripples

topped

by pale whitecaps.

 

Still,

the sea is monotonously calm.

One small wave

lands at my feet.

 

Clouds fall into horizon.

Sky grows lavender

and pale azure,

flaunts charcoal clouds.

 

Rain

comes.

I

walk.

 

East,

stirring of orange glow.

By my right shoulder,

moon peers through clouds.

 

Sandpipers descend

from

wherever they spend the night.

Feast on

tiny shoreline organisms.

Nimbly avoid

the sweep of waves.

Race forward

and back

from water’s edge.

Skim across the sand

in a motley crew,

in a ballet of

choice

&

fate.

 

Now,

Bach’s major chords.

Lemon, rose, violet commingle,

create

a path to the horizon.

Clouds consume rising mist.

 

West light expands.

Sun capers

in cloud mountain  peaks,

rises from the sea.

 

Indigo clouds stretch,

unveil coral cumulous,

so fluffy

I could eat them.

 

Cloud column rises from sea,

lays against green sky.

Thunder crashes,

booms.

Lightening cracks open sky.

Heat leaps from sand.

 

Moist

heat

rises,

cocoons me.

 

North turquoise sky,

dusky blue ocean.

 

I turn south,

purple horizon,

salmon undercoat,

azure and lemon overlay.

 

Creation

every day.

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