Posted in Art, Poetry, quotes

Iron Sharpens Iron

timid soul sparks light
a feeble space to wonder
sharpen iron words

And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Posted in Art, Poetry

imaginings

Keflavik airport art

i try hard to stay open
while the heart shuts
i scream loud
in a whisper
salted with fear
and roll with the punches
stuck in second gear

Posted in Art, Musings, Poetry, quotes

Condemned

The Hope of a Condemned Man, Joan Miró

Life is really

all but apologizing,

yeah, you found yourself

“So what!” they scream. Now apologize.

No, your no better -yesterday

climb the stairs to nowhere. -He

he had but

the loveliest of souls.

—-

“It is the black vein in white marble; it gets everywhere, appears under your chisel at any moment without warning. Your statue has to be redone.” Victor Hugo The Last Day of a Condemned Man

Is it a mistake that Rodin loved Victor Hugo? I should say not.

Bust of Young Balzac -Rodin (Columbus Museum of Art)

An example of Rodin’s work in anticipation of visiting the exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago.

(Honoré de Balzac, French novelist and playwright. May 20, 1799 –August 18, 1850)

Posted in Art, quotes

The Black Experience

“Moonlight is sculpture.” Nathaniel Hawthorne

“Sculpture is the art of the intelligence.” Pablo Picasso

The Freedman, 1863, John Quincy Adams Ward

“The Freedman” in bronze, is on display at the Cincinnati Museum of Art.

Posted in Art, Photography, Poetry

let go 

img_7241
downtown Santa Fe

How does grass -grow
to reach it’s full potential
in the shadows -soft
as in the sun?

Seed heads fully blossom
the wind carries through,
all is well in my garden
gently blowing towards you.

If you were to know
my paper heart -sails
to tell you, you are the one
how far the string -let go?

The stars and moon
shadow the sun
as my melancholy heart
wishes we only begun.