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Christophe Neimann

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Netflix is doing a great documentary series called “Abstract”. Last night we watched the one about Christophe Neimann, an illustrator who currently lives in Berlin. I was beyond inspired. Mr. Neimann’s work can be seen on numerous New Yorker covers and can be followed on Instagram @abstractsundays. 

I hope I’m not breaking any copyright laws by posting some of his work. Here are some other examples. Just brilliant. 

Presidential

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Say “I” loud, often.
Tweet your heart out.  Becoming
“alternate”.  Facts?  Sad.

“…the Trump administration is the first to explicitly claim the ability and right to replace facts with something more convenient that has no basis in reality.”
–Erik Sherman, Forbes

Today NYC

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“This is what Democracy looks like.”

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Headline Haiku: War Is Not Healthy (for children and other living things) 2

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A Hard Rain

has fallen shadowed
by endless endings, ghosts both
multiplied and lost

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Yesterday Michael Kimmelman, in a feature article in the NY Times, noted: “Truth be told, no sane person wants to see these images….What’s happening in Aleppo is almost unbearable to look at….
Bana looks us straight in the eye and asks us to save her, please.
We have done nothing to help.
The very least we should do is look back.”

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I’ve been working slowly on this embroidery, a companion to the first Syria headline haiku I did, because these images are hard to look at, hard to draw.  The first piece, above and below, was done over a year ago, September 2015.

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We can turn our eyes away, but that will not make Aleppo disappear.

#Water is Life

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Eyes of the river–
guard this land, hold and shelter
our roots, seeds, our life

Forgive us these lost minds, blind,
afraid, estranged—bring them home

A tanka for Colleen’s challenge #11, that also incorporates this week’s words from the secret keeper.

The President-elect’s environmental policies are troubling.

 

Lost Voices 2

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Places Filled (for Sharon Jones)

It hurts. There’s
something just beyond.
Slow it down.
I’m still here.
Got to be the way it is.
I’m not gonna cry.

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Going home.
I learned the hard way.
Sing and be
endless sky.
You’ve got to believe.  Freedom
come.  Come sing me home.

 Words taken from the legacy of the music of Sharon Jones

Lost Voices

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New York is cold (for Leonard Cohen)

Gone. What
traces sing now?
a voice leaving footprints
on fragments, in absence, ghost path
exhaled.

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Beware of Darkness (for Leon Russell)

Trace your voice, gone silent now. No words,
a path unforked,  a place untimed.
I’m singing this song, now, to
you.  Sounds falling alone,
sense without context.
Unentangled,
disappeared.
Weightless
breath.

It was a bad week.  When I did these paintings, it was with trepidation, as I hadn’t picked up a brush in quite awhile.  But it was easy to get lost in the doing and felt good.

The poems use the secret keeper’s prompts from October 17 (#59):  
GONE – SENSE – TRACE – VOICE – PATH
I’ve got folders containing a lot of the WordPress prompts from the past 2 months, although after the first 2 weeks I didn’t do much with them except write some poems, now in a folder marked “needs art”.  I’m working on it.

International Day of Peace

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Yoko Ono placed an ad in the front section of the NY Times on October 9, 2014, John Lennon’s birthday.  He would have been 74.

It’s International Day of Peace, so I thought this headline haiku from two years ago would be worth revisiting.

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John Lennon’s words seem a perfect fit for Planet Earth, and I collaged the world around them.

the earth is calling–
a tattered net unweaving
life into the void

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My original haiku (inspired by the surrealists) was cut from headlines in the newspaper section; the new one was composed this morning as I looked at the image and thought about its message again.

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“A dream you dream alone is only a dream.
A dream you dream together is reality.”
–Yoko Ono

So…give peace a chance, world leaders.

Nina is still not ready to get back to art,  so we’re taking a blog break.  Don’t worry, we will return.

15 years

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My brother wanted to go to the 9/11 Museum.

We paid our money and waited in a long line of tourists for our timed entry to the steel and concrete underground crypt, complete with a gift shop (which we steered well clear of) and endless tape loops replaying the day’s events.

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The new glass and steel monuments to commerce surrounding the plaza, with its beautiful pools, enclosed the space above the museum.

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I found this ad  from the NY Times of May 29, 2015, when I was cleaning a few weeks ago.  I must have saved it, intending to do a headline haiku, but it got lost in the shuffle.  Having visited the site, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

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There is nothing “free” about the Freedom Tower, or the museum.  Is this the best way to remember this day and those who died?

time
it lingers
in the dazzling morning sky
cloudless
voices
like air
surround this opening

remember to breathe

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Let there be light, and air, and songs, and sky, and running water, and the living earth and new growing things.  That’s what I think.

Words courtesy of the Magnetic Poetry oracle, for the Elusive Trope’s Magnetic Poetry Saturday Challenge.

Ghosts

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I thought
I sought demons,
discreetly hidden as
ghosts, pressed between remote pages.

instead

I found the cage of memory,
an enclosure beyond
caring, saving,
or time.

The word prompt “ghost” from The Daily Post yesterday, plus this week’s words from the Secret Keeper
THOUGHT | CARE | DISCREET | PRESS | SEEK

Caged hung figure #writephoto

and Sue Vincent’s photo prompt above  (I’m late again with this one; you can see all the responses here)

were my inspirations today.  The painting was actually done awhile ago, from a newspaper photo accompanying an article about refugees from one of the many troubled areas of the world.