Archive | March 2018

Darning

naked heart faded s

Memories
gather, opening
shadows—deep
raw lost lines
like threads of light unraveled–
heart silent, naked.

Sarah Connor at dVerse asked us to consider love tokens, and featured photos of tokens left by mothers at the London Foundling Hospital in the 1700s.  Of course the use of textiles appealed to me, but the heartbreak of having to leave your child in the hands of others, with only a glimmer of hope that someday you would be reunited, will not easily fade from my thoughts.

 

Work in Progress

I started this drawing yesterday. It’s the most ambitious thing I’ve attempted in a while. I’m posting the sketch so far; it is far from finished.

It’s from a photograph that has long fascinated me. This is the owner of a silk mill in Paterson flanked by two ladies. The lady on the right is my grandmother Nellie Maisel.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. May paint it in black and white and shades of gray. I hope I can capture the hectic quality of a desk in a silk mill in the 1930’s (just an estimate. The photo isn’t dated.

Close ups.

Pure Haiku Ocean Series

ocean photo pure haiku s

Thanks to Freya Pickard for choosing one of my poems for her Ocean Series.  You can see it here.

sand s

 

Turning

turning 2s

Demented, unwanted, our dances are old–
we do not fear the dark.

We cast into circles, the moon for to hold–
demented, unwanted, our dances are old.

Our revenants echo as mountains unfold–
like orbiting stars, their shadows embark.

Demented, unwanted, our dances are old–
we do not fear the dark.

Inspired by Sue Vincent’s prompt photo, above, and also a conversation I had with a friend about a movie she had seen about Africa’s witch camps.

turning 1s

I did two different collage interpretations.

turning 2 close up middle s

The poem is a triolet.  I’m still caught in repetition and rhyme.

turning 1 close up bottom s

Societies all over the world attempt to contain and isolate the difficult and problematic, the despairing, the abandoned, the female, the elderly, the ill, children, anyone inconvenient–there are witch camps everywhere if you care to look.

 

 

Art in Skin Haunt

I have two pieces of art in “Skin Haunt”, Issue 3 from Hematopoiesis Press.  My thanks to Cosi Nayovitz for including my work in this beautiful publication.

You can read the issue here:  http://hematopoiesispress.com/

My work is here:  http://hematopoiesispress.com/issue3-contributors
and here:  http://hematopoiesispress.com/issue3-letter-from-the-editors

March 2018

march 2018 grid s

march 2018 magnetic

I consulted the magnetic Oracle for my March grid, where I wove strips of winter photos with strips of flowers.  Her answer to my questions was enigmatic, as always.

Spring
like winter’s secret stone
dawns quietly
with pure shine
following the moon.

When?
we ask
how?

Some say
the path wanders
between frosted winds.

 

Waking up to a Nor’easter

Driving yesterday I saw all these blackbirds on a lawn and felt happy. Spring must be coming! Today I woke up to huge flakes of snow and predictions of high winds later.

Probably will be an easy work day as people never like to go out in bad weather. And it’s Friday.

I apologize for not posting more. As usual, a gentle nudge from Kerfe made me sit down and do this quick image of what I saw yesterday. And I saw some green shoots coming up as well.

I address a photo from 1955

2017_1955

You are less
than I remember,
and more than
I forget–
I superimpose myself
like a mask of light.

I’m not really sure this satisfies the dVerse prompt to write a letter, but I immediately thought of the stitching and Photoshop layering I had done using some childhood photos, trying to make a composite of is and was.