what of the air what of the earth
water and fire all giving birth
seed and decay constant return
blue into green green into brown
reaching for heights tumbling down
growing to shine sparkle and burn
seasons repeat present and new
brown into green green into blue
always the time celebrate mourn
A nove otto in response to Jane Dougherty’s challenge this week. I divided it into 3 stanzas.
The collage was inspired by one the landscapes Nina posted in January.
I found an old skirt in the attic. It didn’t fit me anymore but I really like the design and decided to cut it up for a collage painting.
I started by decoupaging the cut out roses onto the heavy watercolor paper I’ve been using.
I painted in the leaves and stems in brown and then just let it happen. Here is a shot of the skirt; it is an interesting textile. I seem to be exploring my old textile design roots but I’m not fighting it!
“They throw the ball, I hit it; they hit the ball, I catch it.”
“Wait till next year” they
say, and here are arms to throw
a curve, a fast ball.
Who can say that I
will not be able to hit
that ball out, send it
much farther than they
have ever seen? to reach up, hit
the stars with that ball.
Listen closely: I
can hear bats sing. Come catch
the magic of it.
As usual: explanations. Laura at Create Art Everyday asked me awhile ago to put my Mets obsession on hold and draw Chris Davis, who plays first base for her team, the Baltimore Orioles. I had been planning to, and got an extra push with a poetic prompt from Colleen and Ronovan: write something based on a quote you find inspiring. The theme was “wisdom”, and who is wiser about baseball (and life) than Willie Mays?
Quotes are perfect for shovel poems: look at the last word of each line.
Opening Day Sunday April 3! The real first day of spring!
nothing is there what does this mean?
knock at the door pass in between
as if possessed spiritual dream
needs to be seen needs to be seen
the outer edge a spiral shift
imprecise blue cosmos is glimpsed
visions reborn new dawn eclipsed
changes are swift changes are swift
messages from next higher plane
emerging forms transcendent state
purpose in mind always in vain
questions remain questions remain
art like a thought galactic death
end of the world portal of breath
moment in time what happens next?
paths intersect paths intersect
not of the hand not of the eyes
essence of how essence of why
still in the dark chaos replies
the answer lies the answer lies
A monotetra from Jane Dougherty’s weekly challenge.
Both artwork and poem were inspired by Hilma af Klint, a Swedish mystic who painted more than a thousand of her visions and messages from spirits from the late 1800s until her death in 1944. During her lifetime, no critic or gallery owner championed her art. And since her will requested that the paintings not be shown until 20 years after her death, it was only in the 1980’s that the work began to be seen and to reach a wider audience.
She experimented with geometry and automatic drawing in parallel with well-known modernist artists like Klee, Kandinsky, Mondrian, and the Delaunays. Like them, she was also influenced by the spiritualist and occult movements of the early 20th century.
To make my collage I first drew two abstract landscapes, one on black paper and one on white paper. I was originally going to do another grid with them, but after seeing Hilma af Klint’s painting, I was inspired to be a bit more adventurous with my cutting and pasting.
Hilma af Klint’s paintings can currently be seen at the Serpentine Galleries in London.
And on a lighter note…
Face in the Mirror
by Kerfe Roig
hair. Straight. Waist-length.
What was I thinking?
I was thinking: Change. New.
Reinvention. I thought: Bold.
Happy. Admiration. Envy.
Compliments and An Exciting Life.
Blame it on Charley’s Angels. Blame it
on Carly, Fashion, Photographs
in Magazines, Vanity…
But wait—didn’t I feel
didn’t I know?
Illustration by the author, with a nod to Man Ray.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: In the 1970s, a graduate of fashion school and working in the fashion industry, I decided I needed a makeover. So I cut the long straight hair that remained from my hippie days and embarked on a series of permanents. It didn’t take too long for me to realize that the hair I was born with suited me best, and it has remained straight ever since.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Kerfe Roig enjoys transforming words…
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Violence, mayhem, racism
us against them
unleashing the hate
Who could be the most
Did any of them care enough
Guns are our friends
black lives don’t matter
a flash point
Linda Stasi’s column Sunday about the Republican candidates in the NY Daily News really struck a chord with me. It wasn’t difficult to construct a blackout poem from her words.
Have we really fallen to these depths?
You can read the full column here.