Sunday, March 24, 2013

creating: a poem and four paintings

It seems that my best efforts produce only about one painting and one poem per year. Not what you'd call prolific, but given that the vast majority of my time is spent juggling work, family, chores, and other (mostly happy) obligations, I'm pleased that I've produced anything at all. 

I've slowly been teaching myself to paint and write poetry for the past few years and I never feel more challenged, more discouraged, or more elated than when I am painting or writing. I began my first recent painting with acrylics and a complex subject in 2009. With helpful feed back from a few friends and many hours of practice, I have arduously worked my way into oils and more refined subjects, with (I hope) a more nuanced treatment of light and a better grasp of the medium. Each painting has been such a learning experience. As much as I cringe to look at some of the beginner's mistakes in my earlier work, I get such a kick out of seeing progress from one work to the next. No doubt I will employ everything I'm dissatisfied with in my most recent painting as fuel for the next.

Writing poetry is much the same process. I really have no formal idea of what I'm doing and I actually know very little about poetry, except for very early poems I studied in college and more recent poets I enjoy reading now. Nonetheless, experiences, impressions, words, and phrases tumble around in my head for years until it is time—suddenly—to make a poem. Perhaps that's why I dislike having too many obligations—you never know when it will be time to write a poem.

I want to post some of my work here because I think it is important to share your attempts, whether they are triumphs or not. I love the product of creativity, but I relish the process. That's what I crave—the act of creation—the getting it out of my system—the adventure of not knowing whether your next move will destroy the whole thing. If the end result lives up to your expectations, which it rarely does, the thrill is indescribable. If your creation falls short of your hopes, it still gives you a starting place for the next one, as well as something to put on your wall that is, at the very least, more original than a print from the mall.

With all that said, here is a poem I wrote last night (the actual writing took three hours, but it took about nine years to germinate). I won't apologize for the graphic nature of the beginning. That is life and this is art, and that's what it's all about. Three of the four paintings are of places near the house where I grew up in central Wisconsin. I hope they will become part of a larger project (please see "paintings: past, present, and future" on the sidebar for more about that idea). The fourth painting is a still life I imagined in a previous post (see "next painting?" on Oct 25, 2010). I posted them in order of creation—I think the evolution is kind of fun to see. Disclaimer: I took the pictures of my paintings with my iPhone, so they are kind of blurry and overblown (especially Roadside Shrine), but you get the idea. So without further ado...

POEM

love song

one more push
they said
and I screamed
as you left my body
you cried just once
then you looked around
and began
to breathe

our first separation

and now you are running
through the rain and into a waiting car

I stand back
not wanting to embarrass you
with my love

as you pull away
you turn and wave
to the empty window
and lunging forward I am there
waving back to you
to you, to you

my love



PAINTINGS


Zinda's Farm
Acrylic on canvas, 20" x 16"
Completed November 2009

Roadside shrine, Polonia
Acrylic on canvas, 12" x 16"
Completed June 2010

Still life: Crepe myrtle seed pods before bursting
Acrylic on canvas, 10" x 8"
Completed January 2011

Building near Emil's house, late June
Oil on canvas, 12" x 9"
Completed March 2013