Gleam Splendidly: A Cut-Up Poem

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I’m getting busy in my little poetry world, and sadly this has meant I’ve not been writing much I can share here. However this poem is my ‘homework’ from a poetry class I’ve just started. We had to make a poem using the ‘cut up’ technique: I think the name speaks for itself. It’s a technique used by David Bowie and William Burroughs, two people whose work I highly regard.

For this poem I used: The Thought-Fox by Ted Hughes, My People by Carl Sandburg, one page from Calendar Girls by Tim Firth, My People by Kin Moore, and Sylvia Plath’s Wuthering Heights, plus some info taken from wuthering-heights.co.uk

The link between all the sources were that they are connected in some way to Yorkshire, and I think that’s apt to how the poem has turned out and its meaning.

I really enjoyed it! What do you think? What do you take from its meaning? I’d be really interested to know.

Blessings

Am I Naked like the Trees? (Painting, poem, and good news!)

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I fall out the apartment with no more grace than a fat bird.
Both parties,
surprised by the power of my presence,
my step into the pavement
scatters a squabble of seagulls
like a dropped bag of marbles,
out into the sky.

All the branches of the trees are undressed today
letting me see so much further:
a horizon far along is close today,
hidden things now clear.

And all things
all greyer, matt and crisp.
My face dry, and the world alike.

I’m so clothed, so wrapped up,
but feel so naked today.

So naked, and shivering, like the arms of the trees
that suspend cherry blossom clouds,
like billowing sheets out to dry.

We’re both shivering,
but at least I can come home.

Bonjour. This is the first time I have managed to paint and write about the same thing. I hope you can relate to the coldness we’re experiencing lately Up North. Winter feels so long and so severe.

My Good News:

I’ve had a poem of mine published in the Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine! Click through to download it for free (!) or buy a print copy. Support artists and feed your soul at the same time, win-win! It’s a fantastic publication.

Have the loveliest evening.

Salty Painting

 

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Mark 9:50

Salt is good, but if the salt has lost its saltiness, how will you make it salty again? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.

Depression takes lives. And even if it doesn’t kill you, it still takes your life. Your liveliness, your life-spirit, heart, enthusiasm, your growth, your essence, your vitality…

Your saltiness.

I think I lost mine last year. I don’t know how it comes to be so easy to let it go. At hand, instead of the murky waters of ‘why’s and ‘how’s, I’m trying to take that challenge from Mark. How will I make me salty again? I don’t think I’ll be the same as I was before, and I’m happy with that. I feel like if I solve this like a problem, and not tangle it up in my sense of identity and purpose (which isn’t always so easy, I know), I might be more successful and come sooner. I’m trying to see it as a sort of reinvention. The fact that the subject is me is by the by.

Thinking about all this, the painting above is made with salt, to create the textured look of the pigment. My habits are going well, and I think I’m getting closer to more adventurous (read:scary) action to make myself feel better.

I hope you’re all well. Try art journalling, if you’re not. No one has to look at it – not even you once you’ve done it. Look at where it falls on this graph!

 

Take it easy, folks

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On an Island, Painting

I’ve struggled to get back into things since my last post, and I’ve also had a uni deadline, so I’m not quite where I want to be in terms of routines again yet. I’ve also been in a really low place. Hoping to make some decisive action for that soon.

But, to keep in the flow of sharing what I’m up to, I’ve bought a few detail brushes and new pencils. It’s always fun to get new kit now and then. I’ve had a theme going this week, of islands. So here is a little a5 piece in pencil and gouache:

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I was playing with still achieving some sense of depth and interest whilst messing up the ‘true’ picture, as in, some detailed areas falling into abstract shapes of colour and shadow. I’m not sure how well it comes through, especially in the scanned image.

I’m feeling a bit like I’m on an island myself. Hoping to bring you something I’m happier with next time!

First Night Home Again (Poem)

My husband and I got back from his parent’s house yesterday afternoon, after staying there over christmas and new year. As soon as we came into the city I began feeling more relaxed and more ‘me’ again. Christmas was so lovely, with all my new family, but I found it very taxing and I didn’t feel myself much of the time. Especially because I found it hard to write, and I couldn’t paint.

Back by ourselves, I’m more at ease. But I really struggled to sleep. Here is a poem I wrote at about 3.30am:

Sleep-deep breathing in the nape of my neck.
At least one of us can rest while I battle with this solitaire.
Blue light glares silently at my face as I tap.
The apartment dimly lit
whisperlessly watching my eyes glaze,
gazing back at the screen.

As the cards fall into place,
maybe my breathing will,
and might my muscles,
and my heart too.

I’m looking forward to getting back into the routines I was cultivating at the end of last year.