lost in translation

sweet dreams are made of these

Category: art

triptych

diptych

much ado about …

something.

Source: flickr.com via Irene on Pinterest

it’s just stationery

There’s something about stationery I’m drawn to, but I just can’t pin point exactly what. It’s a kind of inconsequential decision-making that takes place in the unconscious. The color palette & design tug at our hearts, as if it owns some part of our identity. OK, it goes something like this. Should I buy this moleskin notebook, and what color should it be? Should it be basic black or should it be in a fun sorbet color? See what I mean? You could tear your hair out deciding on stationery. It’s not that simple. It’s as if you have to choose between the many colors residing inside you.

And not to mention, looking at all sorts of colorful tapes & ribbons will send you to a kind of stationery & string heaven.

Venus at Paphos

In my spiral notebook, I wrote
the names of paintings,
in acts of acquaintance
with the mythological, containing
the mortal shadow of man,
and the scourge of a black angel
who sat by a young girl’s bed.

In the technology of the city
within which I trod with insouciant feet,
I wish to thank my lucky star
for the rays upon the palm tree
that mirrors the symbolism,
without the shortness of breath,
or the smoke of a black country.

Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres (1780-1867), Alexandre Desgoffe (1805-1882)
Venus at Paphos
Circa 1852

We’re still the empty bones,
after all these years,
with all the hemming and hawing,
and the excavating of art,
and I want to say, it’s all good
real bad, amidst the lamentation
of convalescents, and those who fail
to convalesce, expiring upon the thin
stalk of the artist’s brush.

Here, I’ll give to you
the pomegranate in Venus’s palm,
parrying with a distracted Cupid,
propped by a classical temple
of a resurrecting sun
still rising in the East,
and you ask, who’s this Venus
with the sloping shoulder,
and the squashed breasts,
without a corset, to hold them in.
Well, I answer, at least,
there’s the symbolism
of the myrtle tree,
without the brier.

Note: God stands among the myrtles, as quoted in Isaiah 55:13: “Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree: and it shall be to the Lord for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

true blue

Protected: hula woman

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flower plates

How beautiful, I exclaimed.
I drew them, the artist said,
and we said, oh wow.

After I draw the flowers,
I fire the plate
in a kiln upstairs.

Look at this plate,
I drew all the flowers
in my garden.

In one stroke, we found
a solitary artist
who hasn’t put herself
out in the world.

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