ANATOMICAL POETRY

I am starting a new painting tomorrow and plan to do some studying tonight on the anatomy of the facial musculature.

The painting below is not the one I set out to paint (as previously discussed in my blog a few days ago).  But sometimes I just can't plan what is going to happen on a canvas.  The face is composed (pun intended) of the poetry of Ackerman.  It is as yet untitled.  Perhaps I will just scan the text and choose a line that seems meaningful.  I am always fascinated by the interesting and surprising juxtapositions that result from joining text pieces together with this collage technique.

WHAT HAPPENS TO POETRY?

I spent a lot of time with Diane Ackerman today.  Okay, not actually with her, but with her poetry.  I can honestly say that over the course of the last two weeks I examined each line of each poem in her book Jaguar of Sweet Laughter. This is because I have been cutting the book, line by line of poetry, into strips, which I will use in my next art project.  Ackerman says, “A poem records emotions and moods that lie beyond normal language, that can only be patched together and hinted at metaphorically.”  I wondered today what she would think of me dismantling her book this way.  Would she understand that my deconstruction, the tearing apart of her patchwork of words, is a sort of ekphrasis? 

I am fascinated by the idea of the ways in which a painting may resemble a sculpture, or how a poem may portray a painting.  I have written at least two poems related to the paintings of Van Gogh, and I am currently working on a mixed media piece inspired by a statue of Cupid and Psyche that I photographed in Paris.

But would Ackerman appreciate my dissection of her work?  Perhaps she would.  She is, after all, the author of a book titled Deep Play, which according to her website, “considers play, creativity and our need for transcendence.”  So maybe she would understand why I feel the need to play with her words. 

You see, I don’t just shred her work and glue it to a panel.  I cut it apart one line at a time and put it in a box.  But not before reading it.  And because of the way I cut the stanzas and then the lines apart, I don’t usually read the poetry in the order the poet intended it to be read.  Instead, I perceive it bit by bit as I trim the now unnecessary white space away from phrases such as “to where he loves being a hermit,” “of night blooming orchids,” and “with a salmon’s purpose.”  I almost never glimpse entire clauses, so when I do, they become as memorable as these bits: “he sees the world through a small tube,”  “the new biography makes me a fortuneteller,” “he will be less than an inkling,” and, “we live in the outback of our art.” Sometimes my favorite bits are mere subtle images, such as, “the vicarious agony,” “an orient of light,” and “hypnotic tantrums of the surf.”

I love the absorption and shift that occurs repeatedly as I cut the poem to pieces, as I consider the variety of line lengths I encounter and the way the before unnoticed ascenders and descenders of the alphabet attempt in their tiny ways to impede my progress in the creation of what will become the equivalent of brush strokes in my new piece.  (This is not the first time I have played with text.  The photo at the top of this blog is a bit of background from a previous piece.)

But for this to be a true attempt at ekphrasis, my work must contain some consideration of the sentiment of the artist, or in this case, poet, when she created her work.  What then will be the subject of my art piece?  Perhaps part tribute.  Not overtly stated, but implied.  I admire the bits of Ackerman’s poems, but also the cohesive creation of each poem and the way they come together to create a volume.

Perhaps part imitation.  But only in the sense that I admire her powers of observation and the way she tints her words with a naturalistic view of the world.  When I started this project, I had planned to create a portrait of a pair of lovers.  I have not turned away from that idea, but more and more images of trees, snakes, oceans and clouds have crept into the background as though threatening to overtake the couple. 

I am feeling some sense of urgency.  This is always a good thing for me as an artist when I put brush to canvas, or in this case, when I apply gel medium and paper to panel.  It means that my thoughts and observations have begun to swirl into a vision that will be shared at some point in the near future.   This sharing, whether through word or image, is for me what gives my life order and meaning.   I agree wholeheartedly with Ackerman when she says, “I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it.  I want to have lived the width of it as well.”  And so the shape of the collage is decided--a perfect square.

 

 

CONTEMPLATING THE EIGHT BALL’S NAVEL

Sometimes when I have nothing more productive to do, I ponder the seemingly incomprehensible complexity of the universe.  It is mindboggling how everything is tied together--everything from the lifecycle of the tiniest organism to the endless space that surrounds us as it stretches into infinity.   It is certain that there are those who worship at the altar of that which is random, and their beliefs are most likely based on observations that appear valid to them.  Without a doubt they maneuver through the day without applying the idea of cause and effect to their surroundings.

I personally thrive on small discoveries, those serendipitous links that knit together the fabric of society in unexpected ways. It is decidedly so.  For example, the subject of the Magic Eight Ball recently popped up during a discussion in one of my AP English classes, so I posted a link to a virtual Eight Ball.  Most of my students admitted that they could not totally place their faith in the random predictions of the sphere.  At least, they acknowledged that they didn’t believe the answers when they were negative.  They all said that when they asked the orb questions for which they hoped to glean a positive response, if they got a negative answer, such as “very doubtful” or “don’t count on it,” they would concentrate and try again.  On the other hand, if the icosahedral die popped up in the murky blue liquid to reveal a positive answer such as “you may rely on it,” or “outlook good,” they felt a certain small relief and a twinge of optimism that at least for the moment, all was right in their tiny universe.  In other words, my students admitted feeling an emotional response to a system in which they had no real belief.  Sometimes it just takes diligence to get to the answer you seek. Sometimes you just have to ask again later.  You see, it takes an average of 72 questions being posed to the Magic Eight Ball for all 20 of its answers to appear at least once.  Of course, the outlook is not so good for the future of those who have so much time on their hands to be able to sit around shaking an Eight Ball indefinitely, or writing a blog that includes all of the possible responses in italics….  As I see it, yes, it is somewhat reassuring to know that of the twenty possible responses, ten are affirmative, five are negative and five are neutral. 

Some people believe that devices such as this black orb are merely an outlet for the answers that reside within each of us.  If they shake the ball knowing the answer is yes, then theoretically, the ball will stop on one of the positive messages such as, yes, definitely.   

But not even the Eight Ball can always respond with confidence.  It must be ultimately disappointing for those seeking truth to end up with one of the noncommital answers such as reply hazy, try again, or cannot predict now.  And really, even though it is in the category with the “maybe” answers, how much more ominous could an answer be than better not tell you now!?!?

Some people need to believe that there is nothing random in the universe. I ask them: is nothing truly left to chance?   My reply is no.  But maybe if I shake that ball one more time…

If you feel the need to shake the Eight Ball and don’t happen to have one handy, just go to the official web site and shake it virtually: http://www.mattelgamefinder.com/demos.asp?demo=mb

 

What this all comes down to is my hunger for seemingly useless information.  Just knowing that the Eight Ball was invented in 1946 by Albert Carter, and that Carter was the son of a clairvoyant gives me a modicum of pleasure.  As does knowing that modicum, in this sense, is synonymous with atom, and that atom comes from the Greek atomos, meaning uncut or indivisible.  Can a universe in which even the language is so interconnected be random?  My sources say no!

The whole idea of things being random has recently been gnawing at me.  This year in our high school yearbook, we attempted to provide each senior with a portion of a page on which to represent themselves for posterity.  They were asked to list four words that described them.  At least half of them responded with “random.”  What does that even mean?  Are they just attempting to appear mysterious and cool?  At a time in their lives when they should be focused on their future, do they realize that they are proceeding, according to their own self-evaluation, without definite aim, reason or pattern? 

This notion reminded me of something I stumbled upon recently—the idea of a mathematical trajectory that consists of taking successive random steps.  It is called a Random Walk.  Now those who have read my blog consistently know that I often walk to my studio and that I almost never walk the same path twice.  I like to shake things up and take note of the unexpected.  So, I came up with the idea that I could possibly take a truly random walk.  In mathematics, a one-dimensional random walk moves as follows:  You flip a coin and if it lands on tails, you move left.  If it lands on heads, you move right.   Suppose then that I start at the end of my driveway and flip a coin to decide in which direction I will start my walk today.  And then every time I come to a corner, I flip and turn accordingly.  Where would I end up?  In theory—it could be anywhere!  So then I started thinking that a random walk would be a very interesting way to raise money for the Image Warehouse nonprofit and simultaneously map the city of Athens.  We could have a Random Walk-a-Thon!  Participants could pair up or get together in small groups.  Everyone could leave from the Image Warehouse at the same time, flipping and turning and walking, until they had executed a certain number of flips.  It would be crazy interesting to see where the walkers ended up and what they saw along the way.  Just an idea…

Today I am going to my studio, not exactly random because strangely enough if I turn right, left, right, left, right, left…that’s where I end up.  Sometimes I wonder if there isn’t an underlying plan that made me chose that location as my workspace.  As the Eight Ball says, signs point to yes…