- scape

Water color and gouache on paper
to purchase a print or card click HERE

What is it?

A landscape? Maybe

Cityscape? Hmmm

Wait, a desertscape?

What if standing
Upside down? A seascape!

Sigh!

The mind sees

Dots, lines, colors.

Buildings or

Pillars or rock?

Sky and earth,

Water and sand,

Night and day?

A quiet voice

Suggests

Close the eyes,

Now look.

Aha!

It is an E

Scape.

Celebrating the life of a dear heart with a little water color combined with gouache.  What began as an abstract exercise with dots and lines developed a life of its own, poking at the need to make meaning from what is seen. 

Chaotic Grace

(the first moments when learning to skate)

Collect the coat

Cover the head

Circle the scarf

Cinch the laces

Clean the blades 

Clatter to the edge 

Clasp the other 

Creep and tilt 

Collapse 

CAN’T 

Compassion’s hand 

Cotton-like voice 

Corrals hope 

Compels to try 

Chaotic grace. 

(First Skate – water color, gouache and ink on paper
to purchase reprints or cards click HERE)

To see the entire work (prose and additional poetry) for which this poem was created, click HERE.

Soul

(Autumn Memories - water color on paper
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You are more than what you expect to be

more than all the fears of others combined

greater than the need to conquer

or fix

or do.

There is no need to win 

nor win others who need you.

One job:

wake and open your eyes

do what you can so

you can do the same

tomorrow.

In between be kind,

show up.

No gauge of 

big or small.

Be there, just be

there.

If no one else sees it,

over and over and over

please know that

what will shine

is your

soul.

Martin Luther King, Jr. – I Have A Dream Speech Anniversary

(oil on canvas)

On the 50th anniversary of the Martin Luther King, JR. speech, I listened to a recording from Youtube  while reading the National Archives transcript.  It was the first time I listened to the speech in its entirety.  I was struck by the weight of the context and equally by the beauty of his words such as:

Lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity … the fierce urgency of now … sunlit path of racial justice … soul force over physical force … veterans of creative suffering … the content of their character … every valley shall be exulted, every hill and mountain will be made low. 

From these words I was motivated to paint.

The Circle



(water color and ink on paper)

Some say that life

Is a connection of dots

First one then another

Creating straight angles.

I think an alternate shade,

Where each moment

Rests upon a curve,

A collection of arcs.

Circles, wheels, globes.

The initial blends with

Each finale.

In time the sight

Reveals the truth

Not from without,

To see it is the center.

Sit and run 

Live and turn, 

We fall apart then

Fall within the circle.

An inspiration when creating a card for Rob Arkes, his birthday and passionate cyclist.  Sitting down with a blank piece of paper, I saw a collection of bicycle wheels that soon evolved into a collaboration of circles.  After the paint and ink were dry the mental imagery of “showing up each day” and the “arcs of each moment” spilled out, which lead to the poem.  How we struggle to live a life laden with linear language (the straight and narrow … toe the line … make a bee line) perpetuating conformity to social norms or that success requires speed and a singular straight approach.  I know that circles include lines, yet they curve and lack terminal points (beginning or ending).  They also have a space within and a center, which feels like growth of self.  So, inspired by a bicycle wheel  the creation evolved to a metaphor for living (besides, I doubt many bees ever fly  in a straight line).

Through the Window Pane, From a Red Green Chair

(water color on paper)

There, the corner of the sky float little birds.

Behind gray grids

Tall oak fans wide

She grasps one brittle leaf

Below, its siblings

Swirl root to root.

Above, a crown of crows

Heads pulled inward, mute eyes scanning.

Fragments of car and truck

Pass the gaps ‘tween

Pale wooden slats,

Boundary for the outer world

All seen by one

Anchored to a red green chair.

Body limited by his brittle heart

Buoyed by pyrotechnic pills,

Lungs once a multiverse of bellows

Now air locked catacombs.

Pancreas enslaved to needles,

Joints injured, inflamed, in need

Of repair.

Yearn,

Dream,

Dab the eyes

Wish the arms would grow

And grow

Stretch through the panes

Beyond the oak

Push back the gate

To breath, to walk to

Live easily

Away from the red green chair.

All in a moment

His mind blinks …

Melancholy pulls all back

To darkness.

In blackness color dashes

Scatters, settles in.

What use is hope?

Damn the damage done.

Accept the seat.

What’s left of time?

This stew that is his parts,

Once lid rattling,

Rests cold upon the counter

By the red green chair.

There, upon the knee

Two tiny eyes graced with passion

Coiled from nostril to bristled tail.

Up, blur of fur

Across the lap

White bridge with

Blue and purple shadows.

Hand under ear,

Gentle little rub

Away the outer world

With purrs

One smile bears a second.

Lungs expand,

Inner space expands, there

In the corner of his sky float little birds

Around old oak

Crowns of boasting crows

Call to those below

Adorned in the red green chair.

A painting that led to a poem, so far my pattern (one leads to the next).   Partially inspired while looking out the back window on a cold winter day and the many furry souls that help connect my daily dots.

Twelve

(water color on paper)

On the Twelfth part

Of the Twelfth month

In the Twelfth year

Do I feel as a

One or a Two?

Should I stand in a

Dodecagon?

Is this a day to

Enjoy, emote, express?

Depress, dissolve, dismay?

Or shall I paint

Twelve lines

And call it just

Another day.

On 12.12.12 I wondered about the power of numbers, how they move us in so many directions.  On the one hand a construct of human kind and on the other hand the magic of nature’s symmetry.  A little tribute to the last such date in the Gregorian Calendar during my life time.

December Snow Squall

(watercolor  on paper
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Four forty seven PM.

Blue hat pulled low.

Zipped to the neck.

Scarf knotted.

Slalom into a boot,

Then the other.

Back stiffened,

Breath deep.

Unlatch the door

Then

Step into

December.

A holiday card, remembrance of a first December snow in Vermont, oft times a sudden squall.

Giving Flight to Intentions



(gauche on paper
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Welcome Dearest,

Sit and share.
Why the Heavy Heart?
You wish to Fly?

To lift as the Sun Bird?

Then close your eyes.

Call your Children and say

“Open the box full of

Red and Purple,

(giving flight to intentions in um, er, ah other ways
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Inflate one balloon then another

Each with Intention.”

Gather and Bind,

Thank each Little One

Then breath deep

Hold, hold, hold …

Now, slowly 

Let

Go.

It is the Golden Time,

Between day and night.

Float and Smile.

Below little hands Wave,

Above the Moon Bird dances.

Beautiful Soul,

You Are

Light.

A card for Connie, she asked for an elephant with balloons.  The words are a tonic, a gentle reminder that the simple act of breathing can release the weight of our fears.

Canis Lupus

(water color on paper)

Barking up a tree,

[hmmmmm]

How odd.

Even howl to the moon,

[sigh]

So rare.

Well done, and soon,

[yawn]

Curled nap.

While living in an apartment I sat waiting on the bottom steps, feet resting upon the floor of an entrance way tiled with faux shale.  Staring down I saw the tiles, green in color swirled with patterns including one that suggested a wild dog.  The tile pattern inspired the creation, first the image then the words.

Layers

(water color and gauche on paper
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Are we three layers?

Closest … inner thoughts tightly wound ball of string.  Knotted thick lines.  Frights layered with memories tumbling through ongoing liturgical wall.  Stories, moving pictures of after, here and hereafter.

Farthest … expanse of parts.  Children caper and cower.  Guides, angels, spirit, God.  Comfort, celebrate, create.  De se sentir, zu fühlen,  感じること, أن تشعر.

In Between … conduit to the little world.  Surface scratched, shiny, sticky or slick.  Halves of a clam, open and close, open and close, open and close twixt love and fear.

A card created in collaboration with Connie, her idea of different layers lead me to the analogy for the human experience.  Effects of our thoughts and ego (that which is closest).  Our inner children and greater forces (that which is farthest) including  translations of French, German, Japanese, and Arabic to “feel”.  And how we relate to the world in our actions (in between).  The blue expanse represents the “farthest”, here a rapid free flow of paint allowed figures to emerge (children, guides, spirits).  The yellow clam-like shell is the “in between” allowing for an opening and closing to the outer world creating both boundaries and walls.  The inner pearl surrounded by a tight weave of string holds that which is “closest”, a collection of past memories, imaginary projections and each current breath.

Fallen Cherry Blossoms from Wobbly Piano Stool With Yellow Cloth and Sunflowers

(water color on paper
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Spring, spring, spring!

Days of rain weighted down

By shirt on shirt on shirt

On jacket on shell on and on

And on …

Signs of winter sleeping,

Little buds peak through

Silvery crimson bark

Of apple, plum, and cherry tree.

One week passes to show

First the Pink,

Nature’s ambers glowing

Growing soon to blossoms

White with shades of red and blue.

Walking under canopies

Tangling sight and scent

Darting wings and loping paws

Round trunks, through twig

While tiny pedals cling.

Winter stretches, yawns one

Last time to leave a

Sudden heavy snow,

Competing with the lovely

Trees for light.

Soon to melt, in the wake

Lower branches bend to

Snap!

A painter’s gift.

Lime yellow jar,

Arrangement perched

Up on a wobbly stool

Adorned with cloth of

Jaune and Sunflowers.

To capture

Memory and light

With brush, water, pigment,

Eyes and heart.

Drop and stroke

Pause, ponder, paint.

Then, a great mistake.

Wagging tail darts …

Stool stands no more.

Scattered elements

Upon the floor

Sitting between art and

Mess, each the same.

Creation done.

Observations from a walk with my companion dog, Georgia, during the last days of winter and then my experience painting.  Spring was starting to, well, “spring” with rows of cherry trees throughout parks and along streets.  Several branches broke from a heavy wind the night before, I collected them and returned home.  The branches were arranged in a lime green vase then placed on a wobbly piano stool.  I began to paint until an unfortunate circumstance allowed the stool to wobble tossing the branches to the floor … a sign to end the painting.

Trans-form-ation

(acrylic on canvas)

What is reality

If only what we know

Is but a name.

When that we

Do not understand exists

Just the same.

To shift a molecule

One moment to the left,

Untwist the D and Aid,

Rewrite the tome

Push back the stone … poof!

Marble to marmalade.


Painting started in an acrylic painting class in 2010, a representational abstraction (from a blurred image, what the actual image was I do not know).  Throughout the process I imagined the process of discovery, where what we know can change in the blink of an eye and what appears to be reality may be only a dream.  The poem came later as I considered the importance of disruption in our lives, how we fight change and fear the lack of “order”.  Completed in 2011.