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Posts Tagged ‘Art’

Wild Rose Learns to Paint

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on February 24, 2015| 2 Comments »

She starts with marigold.
She pours the paint into a cup and selects the fattest brush.
The paint drips all over the floor as she moves toward the canvas.
She doesn’t care about the mess.
She drags huge pulls of marigold onto the blank, stroke after stroke after stroke.
There is no pattern, no purpose, no why.
More paint, she says to no one, more paint!
And she opens the ochre, the navy, the pomegranate, the plum.
She forgets about cups and pours the paint
directly into her hands. Then it’s hurl of paint, smash of paint,
fist and smear and splat of paint. Long slow pinky fingered tease of paint.
Puddles of paint. Great rainbowed pools.
She rolls in the paint and then rolls her body against the walls, the doors,
every inch of the virgin floor.
Every part of her is color now, and there is nothing
she’s not ready to touch.

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Taking Photographs in a Dying Town

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on October 19, 2013| 1 Comment »

IMG_0301

A thin blue line. One paler blue.
A gray rectangle. Six brown squares.
Four cylinders of cream. Thin smears
of white. And many, many clear
isosceles. It’s easier
to take the story this way: parts.
Forget that it’s a shattered window,
broken door outlined in blue,
a fallen roof, the beams collapsed.
The house belonged to no one you
knew. Find the angle, click the shutter.
Tell yourself you’re interested
in how things fall apart. It’s not
catastrophe this way. It’s art.

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While Listening to Gregory Botts Discuss Art

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on October 18, 2013| 1 Comment »

DSC_7798

bringing the far
in close,

a reconciliation
of opposites,

that is what he said
he was doing

the white cloud,
the dark branch

connected on canvas,
a meeting of what tumbles

and what rises, though
everything eventually falls

and then rises,
how could I not

think of you and me
a far and a close

still searching
for the frame that

can hold us both

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