new painting

Wave (40x40; acrylic, acrylic ink)

Finished this is at the studio a few weeks ago but had to bring it home before I was sure it was done. Here's a shot that is more true to color and doesn't have the crappy flash issue:

new(ish) painting

Breathe (36x24; acrylic)

Finished this a few weeks ago in the studio, which I've decided to move out of. Too much money for the limited time I spent there. I also realized I need all of my paintings in the house, otherwise it's really difficult to work on them. I need to see them in progress when I come down the stairs.

swimming

Don't you just love/hate it when you're working and working on something and then you turn another page in one of the books you're reading and find that someone has already done a better job at it?

From Michele Battiste's great poem "No Swimming," from her book Ink for an Odd Cartography:

It was a form

of wishing, when I, at three, almost drowned

in the neighbor's pool, yanked out and gasping,

kicking to stay under, somehow knowing

womb and death share the same sleep and blessing.

-

I've just started the book, by the way, which is why I've called the poem great but not the book. I'm thoroughly enjoying it, though. And jesus, that cover. Black Lawrence Press sure makes some beautiful books.

Pete and Repeat

What I have on repeat these days:

* The album Warship by The House Floor. I've loved the lead singer's music for years now, and I've loved the band's music for almost as long as they've existed. This is their first full-length album and it's phenomenal. I must admit, though, that it took me a few listens to really hear it. If you decide to listen to it once, try to listen to it five times before you make any judgment. 

* The album Sainthood by Tegan and Sara, particularly the songs "Northshore," "Night Watch" and "Alligator."

* "Pilgrim," a poem by Jessica Garratt, found via Brian Brodeur's great blog "How a Poem Happens." 

* Anna Journey's poem "Elegy: I Pass by the Erotic Bakery," found after reading a different poem by Journey on Brodeur's blog.

* "Pain," a poem by Laura Newbern. I first read this many moons ago in The Atlantic's December 2001 issue. I read it a year later, when I was a freshman in college; I stumbled across it online and have never forgotten it. I often go through periods where I return to this poem repeatedly.

* The program "Encounter" by Torvill and Dean. I don't think I've mentioned it on here but I'm a total figure skating junkie. So much so that I can't even watch the garbage that passes for figure skating these days. This program by T&D is one of my all-time favorite pieces. Unfortunately, the above video of the program contains a little bit of commentary and applause from the audience at really inconvenient moments. If you can ignore those things, you have a shot at watching one of the greatest works of art to ever hit the ice. I need to figure out how to rip the version I have on VHS; it's tremendous.

second collage

Near Miss, Nearness (20x40; collage of paper, acrylic, waterproof drawing ink and acrylic ink on canvas)

Been working on this for the past month. I'm beyond thrilled with it. And here it is in its new home (the upstairs hallway):

(If you click on the hallway photo, that gives you the best look at the piece, in terms of size, color and focus.)

the things you can never leave

I took that photo about three weeks ago from the passenger seat of a car that no longer runs as I was leaving a city that never felt like home. The only things about that city that feel like home are the family members that still live there and this view of the water as I'm leaving.

As often as it happens, I'm still amazed when I read a book of poems that refuses to leave me. The entire book. Its contents as a body. I'm happy when I read a book of poems and love a few pieces and lines here and there. I still never expect an entire book to take me.

I finally read What the Living Do by Marie Howe yesterday. I read it quickly and will certainly read it again. But I wouldn't need to. I haven't been able to shake it all day.

In a good way.

adventures in Googling

I was tired and putting off sleep. I had watched some television, visited my regular stops on the Internet and couldn't move myself to do anything else. So I Googled myself.

I hadn't done it in a while and despite how goofy it is, I once learned of a journalism award I'd won in college through Googling myself. My editor had left the paper and the new editor, who didn't know me, either didn't know how to get in touch with me or lost word of the award in the haze of her new job. So searching for yourself on the World Wide Web does have its benefits.

And tonight I found a link to a blog post about one of my poems that was published in Pif Magazine earlier this year. As it turns out, the post was part of a college creative writing class assignment related to reading literary journals, and I ended up finding one of the classmates of the original poster had also written about one of my Pif poems.

This was the first time I'd ever read something a stranger wrote about my poetry. It was completely fascinating.

One student critiqued "Yield," and though she didn't like the poem, she had some interesting things to say about it. I appreciated some comments she made about the disconnect between the third stanza and the first two (though the disconnect was intentional on my part, it didn't work for her, which is a good thing to hear even if just from one reader). It was incredibly interesting, however, to read that she felt, as a woman, that one part of the poem was degrading. Fascinating stuff because in writing it, that degradation was part of the point. The speaker is lamenting exactly that. But it's really interesting to me to see that a reader was more put off by the idea of the degradation than put in the speaker's shoes. I wonder how often that happens with a poem, that the experience a poet is trying to present ends up disgusting or angering or upsetting a reader (or just going against some core part of him or her) and so most everything else is lost.

The other student critiqued "Body," which he found disturbing and humorous, which I got a kick out of. It makes me happy that as dark as that poem is, someone was able to get the sad funnies out of it. Also got a huge kick out of him saying at the end of the critique that he had no idea what the poem was about but that he was sure it would be discussed in class. 

My lil ole poems being discussed in a class. How fun.

anyone in Charlottesville:

I'll be showing at The Local again in February. Maybe this time I'll actually remember to take some non-phone photos.

first collage

Exposure (20x24; collage of paper, waterproof drawing ink and acrylic marker on canvas)

The photo's kinda fuzzy but this is perhaps the coolest thing I've ever done. It was inspired by Lee Krasner, and I had a blast making it. 

I started out by making ink blots through writing certain words over and over and then folding the paper in half (and in the creepiest moment of producing this, the words "this thing" repeated all over one of the sheets produced a skull). Then I just played around with the ink in a few different ways on some other sheets, and I used black acrylic marker to do one of my weird squiggly drawings on another piece of paper.

Once the pieces of paper were dry, I shredded each piece and glued them to the canvas as made sense to my eye.

I couldn't be happier with it and already can't wait to do another one.

new painting

Heart is a Misplaced Modifier (20x24; acrylic, acrylic ink, acrylic marker)

I can't seem to shoot these anymore without the flash screwing up the middle. Need to get my roommate to teach me how to do this right. Here's a better shot: