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Archive for January, 2011

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Flying Solo (Dragonfly Mandala (Haiga & Collage), 4/52, BlackBerry 52 – WEEK 4, January 30th 2011, photo © 2011 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.

Medium: Drawn by hand with a black Ultra Fine Point Sharpie on Canson Mix Media XL Series 98lb drawing paper. Collaged & colored with Faber Castell 6 PITT Artist Brush Pens, DecoColor Glossy Oil Base Paint Markers, Portfolio Water Soluble Oil Pastels, Caran D’Ache NeoColor II Water Soluble Wax Crayons, Lineco Archival PVA Adhesive, archival card stock paper. Poem by QuoinMonkey. Photo taken on Canon PowerShot G6 camera.






Prehistoric wings, 60 seconds, 30 beats
flying north to south. Darting mosquitoes
chase mayflies — things are not what they seem.
Magic hides, mists of illusion;
dragonfly in yellow rain.






I feel a kinship to Dragonfly; I first wrote about her shadow in May 2007. In the Summer of 2010, dragonflies filled our gardens. I spent a hot July day kneeling on one knee, contorting the body so I could get my BlackBerry close enough to capture the veined wing.

Dragonfly wings carry golden drops of magic. In Dragonfly Wings — It Is Written In The Wind, I wrote about the meaning of Dragonfly in the Medicine cards. During The Sketchbook Project, Dragonfly resurfaced in a Bone & Moon Series of loose sketches; I wanted to recreate the drawings in mandala form. When I saw Through the Rain-Studded Screen (haiga), the Jump-Off from Lotus for Week 4, I connected to the rain, and wondered what it would be like for a dragonfly to navigate through a downpour. The response — Dragonfly in Yellow Rain.

In BlackBerry 52, we will continue our call and response by posting a BlackBerry Jump-Off photo every Monday for the 52 weeks of 2011. Feel free to join us if you wish (learn about the project’s beginnings at BlackBerry 52 Collaboration).


-posted on red Ravine, Sunday, January 30th, 2011

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by Teresa Williams



Devil's Bridge II

Joseph Mallord William Turner from St. Gotthard & Mont Blanc
Sketchbook [Finberg LXXV], The Devil’s Bridge, near Andermatt,
Pass of St. Gotthard, Switzerland, 1802.






*The Devil’s Bridge


Blue twilight
of ash
washing
the weathered mountains,
a single goat-bell
clangs
disrupting
the high silence.
The traveller stops
in the middle
of the narrow stone bridge,
her listening is
lonely.


Beneath
the bridge,
dark water
rushes and falls;
tangled serpents
pushing
the frenzied depths
of time’s black core
down
the ravine’s
bottomless hollow;
a night heron
swoops over
the churning,
red eye widening
seeing through
to the place
where the snakes
lie still.


A sudden wind
blows
from the nostrils
of the mountain,
as if
to extinguish
all hesitation,
dark rocks
crumble down
filling the air
with a scoured-out echo
that waits
for what must cross.



The traveller steps forward
calls out,
no response
no sign
for what it is
she wants to know;
who made the bridge
and is she
the first to cross it?


The twilight
deepens, quickens
the pause;
the traveller looks ahead
her eyes fierce
and determined,
she steps forward
again
and the cold light
leads her
further than she
ever imagined
and
without turning back
she enters
a new silence;
it is in the not knowing
that makes her cross
it is in the knowing
that stops her.




*Legends tell us that bridges throughout the British Isles, Scandinavia, and continental Europe were built by the devil in return for the sacrifice of the first being to cross over.


_________________________




About Teresa: Teresa Williams is a psychotherapist, poet and translator in Seattle, Washington. She has been writing and trying to live poetry for as long as she can remember. Her love for travel and the Spanish language has called her into translation work. She is also an active member of Grupo Cervantes, a bilingual writer’s group and literary community in Seattle.

Teresa’s poetry has been featured at births, weddings, funerals and several talent shows held by the closest of friends. Her first piece on red Ravine, Sound Falling From One World Into Another, was published in August 2010 and featured the poems: Swans, Two Coyotes at Dawn, and Tarot.


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Searching for Stillness

Searching For Stillness (Haiga Collage), 3/52, BlackBerry 52 – WEEK 3, January 22nd 2011, photo © 2011 by A~Lotus. All rights reserved. Medium: Origami paper, stickers, Elegant Writer calligraphy markers, color pencils, Fiskars Paper Edgers scissors, color lithograph on card stock by Ota Saburo (cutout from a 2011 planner). Poem & origami cranes by A~Lotus. Photo taken on Canon PowerShot A550 camera.


Hard to believe, but we are already into the 4th week of January. A~Lotus created the beautiful haiga collage Searching For Stillness in response to the BlackBerry 52 Jump-Off for Week 3, The Mirado Black Warrior. You can read more about her process of creating the collage on her post #aros: 30th Stone; BB 52 Collaboration (and see the Jump-Off for Week 4).

We will continue our call and response by posting a BlackBerry photo for the 52 weeks of 2011. Feel free to join us if you wish (learn about the project’s beginnings at BlackBerry 52 Collaboration). To read more about Lotus, visit her at alotus_poetry on Twitter (where she writes poetry every day in community with other Twitter poets), at Poetry By Lotus, and on her Flickr account.


-posted on red Ravine, Tuesday, January 25th, 2011

-related to post: haiku 4 (one-a-day) meets renga 52

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by Teri Blair



Home of Emily Dickinson, Amherst, Massachusetts, October 2010, all photos © 2010-2011 by Teri Blair. All rights reserved.



On October 30th, 2010, I stood in a room I had wanted to be in for years. It had a bed, a desk, a dresser, a lantern, a basket, and huge windows. From this second story perch Emily Dickinson composed her wonderful, strange, profound poetry.

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Emily was born in the same house where she died. And with the exception of a few trips and a little schooling, she never ventured from her hometown. Ever. She lived for 55 years, becoming increasingly reclusive the older she got. She published seven poems under pseudonyms while she was alive, poetry that went practically unnoticed. It wasn’t until she died that the big discovery was made. Emily’s sister was cleaning out her bedroom dresser and found nearly 1800 poems in the bottom drawer. They were written in handmade booklets and on scraps of paper.

Four years after her death, Emily’s first volume of poetry came out and she was famous. Now, 124 years later, she is considered one of the most influential American poets; her work has never been out of print.


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I drove to Amherst, Massachusetts with my niece, Anna. We pulled up to Emily’s house on Main Street, an impressive yellow brick surrounded on two sides by massive gardens. The moment we stepped onto this National Historic Site, I was looking for clues of how Emily did it. Was she simply brilliant, or was there some evidence of influence? Our tour guide told us that as soon as Emily’s first book came out, speculation about her largely private life began, speculation that has never stopped.

They honor Emily by sticking with the facts, only the things that are authenticated. I am compelled to do the same, simply observing some habits that made up part of her writing life.





A Period of Woolgathering


When Emily was 10, her family moved temporarily to a different house in Amherst. Her bedroom faced the town graveyard, and during those next impressionable years, she watched hundreds of horse-drawn funeral processions.

When she was 19, her father gave her a puppy she named Carlo. For the sixteen years of her dog’s life, they explored the woods and fields of Amherst together. Emily made extensive collections from what she found outside on these long hikes.

Contemplating death and observations of nature run heavily through Emily’s poetry.


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Writing Practices


Emily was a voracious reader. Her family received daily newspapers and several magazines, all of which Emily read cover-to-cover. She read poets; Keats and Browning were two of her favorites.

She wrote at night by lamplight. Moonlight walkers consistently saw a light burning in Emily’s window. They didn’t know what she was doing. Though there were virtually no external rewards for her work, she kept writing. An internal force propelled her.


Simplicity


Emily’s life was very simple; there were few distractions.

She had only a handful of family and friends, and kept in touch with most of them through letter writing.

She baked. She read. She wandered through her gardens. She lowered baskets of gingerbread to her nephews and niece from her window. And at night…she wrote in her bedroom by lamplight.


♦     ♦     ♦


After the 90-minute tour, we were allowed to wander through the house alone at our own pace. Anna and I both gravitated back to Emily’s room. We sat on the floor, stood by the windows; we looked at each other across the room.

Can you believe we’re standing here, I asked Anna. She smiled and shook her head no. We kept looking at each other, smiling and shaking our heads because we knew. There was nothing more to say; and we could both feel the pulse of what had happened within those four walls.


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View of Emily’s From The Garden, Amherst, Massachusetts, October 2010, all photos © 2010-2011 by Teri Blair. All rights reserved.


When Emily died, the funeral was held in the library of her house. At her request, six Irish immigrants carried her casket from the house to her grave. She asked her sister to burn the thousands of letters she had amassed.

But she didn’t say a word about the poems in the bottom drawer.

Emily’s brother and his family lived in the house on the far edge of her garden. One time Emily’s niece, Martha, came into her room with her, and Emily pretended to lock the door so no one could get in.  She looked around the room—at the writing desk, lamp, and paper. “Martha,” she said, “this is freedom.”



“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of Me.


-Emily Dickinson c. 1861 from The Pocket Emily Dickinson,
Edited by Brenda Hillman, Shambhala Publications, 2009.



IMG_0670 in memoriam



About Teri: Teri Blair is a freelance writer living in Minneapolis and founder of the Poetry & Meditation Group of which QuoinMonkey has fondly and frequently written. (See Letter From Poet Elizabeth Alexander for the last post on the group and Teri’s piece titled Desire And A Library Card — The Only Tools Necessary To Start A Poetry Group for a step-by-step on how to start your own.)

 

Teri’s first red Ravine guest post, Continue Under All Circumstances, was written on the road during a 2007 trip to Holcomb, Kansas. She journeyed back to Holcomb in 2010 and wrote a sequel, Back To Holcomb, One Last Time. Her last piece for red Ravine, Discovering The Big Read, is about the largest reading program in American history. Its mission is simple: to restore reading to the center of American culture.

Teri will be spending the month of February at the Vermont Studio Center, writing, walking, and finding inspiration by the Gihon River in the heart of the Green Mountains.

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The Mirado Black Warrior - 3/52

The Mirado Black Warrior – 3/52, Week 3/BlackBerry 52, Minneapolis, Minnesota, January 2011, photo © 2011 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.


I was at the Casket Arts Studio last night (Liz and I finally completed, scanned, and mailed our sketchbooks to New York) and saw this still life on the art desk. The Mirado Black Warrior is one of my favorite pencils. I bought about ten of them years ago when I read that author Thad Beaumont, the main character in Stephen King’s The Dark Half, wrote his books with Black Warriors. By association, I made the leap that the Black Warrior was also Stephen’s pencil of choice. (I just knew that if I used them to write, his uncanny ability to weave a story together would rub off on me.)

I am fascinated by the way ordinary objects impact our daily lives and have read about the history of pencils. Liz included the pencil on the cover of her sketchbook for The Sketchbook Project because pencils changed the world (her theme was Things That Changed Other Things). I learned at Pencil Revolution that part of what makes the Mirado Black Warrior so enticing is that it is rounded (rather than octagonal), smells like heaven because of its cedar construction, flows smoothly on the page due to the waxed-ceramic and graphite core, and has a semi-soft Pink Pearl eraser that will not burn holes through your pages.

Did you know Henry David Thoreau’s family owned and managed a pencil factory in Concord, Massachusetts? According to The Thoreau Society, “Thoreau family pencils, produced behind the family house on Main Street, were generally recognized as America’s best pencils, largely because of Henry’s research into German pencil-making techniques.” (For more on Thoreau and pencils, check out Henry Petroski’s classic account The Pencil; the thick, tall book is on my bookshelf.)

The Dark Half tops my list of books by Stephen King, along with his nonfiction work, On Writing (see 10 Tips From Stephen King On The Craft Of Writing). I even went to see him at the Fitzgerald Theater in November 2009. So when I saw the Mirado Black Warrior on the desk last night, I knew it would be Week 3’s Jump-Off in the BlackBerry 52 collaboration with Lotus. Feel free to join us if you wish (learn about the project’s beginnings at BlackBerry 52 Collaboration).


-related to posts: icicle tumbleweed (haiga) – 2/52, Best Of BlackBerry 365 — First Quarter SlideShow, BlackBerry 365 Project — White Winter Squirrel, WRITING TOPIC — TOOLS OF THE TRADE

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Icicle Tumbleweed - 2/52

Icicle Tumbleweed (Haiga) – 2/52, BlackBerry 52 – WEEK 2, Elk River, Minnesota, January 14th 2011, photo © 2011 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved. Medium: Digital BlackBerry photograph altered in Adobe Photoshop Elements 6.0, Font: Myriad Pro.


I was driving on a rural Minnesota road in a blizzard this week, and snapped an ordinary BlackBerry photo through the windshield. At first glance, I thought the image lacked depth. Then I saw the open space, perfect for poetry. So I altered the photo in Adobe Photoshop Elements 6.0 and added text (a haiga) in response to inspiration from Lotus, Bamboo Morning (Haiga). I did a lot of photo work with alternative processes during the years I worked in the darkroom. But so far I’ve been a purist with digital photography; this is opening a whole new world for me.

Lotus and I will continue our call and response by posting a BlackBerry photo for the 52 weeks of 2011. Feel free to join us if you wish (learn about the project’s beginnings at BlackBerry 52 Collaboration). To read more about Lotus, visit her at alotus_poetry on Twitter (where she writes poetry every day in community with other Twitter poets), at Poetry By Lotus, and on her Flickr account.


-related to posts: Best Of BlackBerry 365 — First Quarter SlideShow, BlackBerry 365 Project — White Winter Squirrel, haiku 4 (one-a-day) meets renga 52

-posted on red Ravine, Saturday, January 15th, 2011

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IMG01418-20110112-2157Things That Changed Other Things

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Confidential (Open), Things That Changed Other Things, The Sketchbook Project, Musk Ox Moon, pages from the Moleskines of Liz Schultz & QuoinMonkey for The Sketchbook Project, January 2011, photos © 2011 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved. Medium: Portfolio Brand Water-Soluble Oil Pastels, Prang Metallic Markers, Uni-ball Signo 207 Rollergels, Letter Stamps, Ink, Caran D’Ache NeoColor II Swiss Made wax crayons, Black & Silver Sharpies, digital photo, gesso, sticker, water, Moleskine.


Liz and I signed up for The Art House Co-Op Sketchbook Project months ago. This week we are working furiously to put the finishing touches on our Moleskines. We’ll postmark the journals by January 15th and they will be on their way to a permanent collection at the Brooklyn Art Library. But that will be after touring the U.S. with all of the other 28,835 artists from 94 countries around the world who submitted their journal art. The tour starts March 2011.

I snapped a few in-process BlackBerry shots but they don’t do justice to the vibrant colors or feel of the original pages. Tomorrow night I’ll get out the Canon and document every page, because the journals won’t be returned. It’s a lesson in letting go. One recent addition to our art materials (thanks to ybonesy’s detailed post on journals) are the Caran D’Ache NeoColor II Swiss Made crayons. I like mixing them with oil pastels. They work well with a brush and water.

Liz and I chose different themes for our Moleskines. I am working with Lights In the Distance; she chose Things That Changed Other Things. Photography lends itself to light, so I included original light-related photos and a series of Moon sketches. Liz worked with original photographs, poetry, and collage. She helps motivate me to experiment with new materials. It’s been a long time since I kept a sketchbook, so it’s been fun to work on this project together. Though I wish I had not waited quite as long to finish up the details. Deadlines motivate!

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Rabbit Ears, Dragon Moon, Life Is Short, Art Long, pages from the Moleskines of Liz Schultz & QuoinMonkey for The Sketchbook Project, January 2011, photos © 2011 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved. Medium: Portfolio Brand Water-Soluble Oil Pastels, Prang Metallic Markers, Uni-ball Signo 207 Rollergels, Letter Stamps, Ink, Caran D’Ache NeoColor II Swiss Made wax crayons, Black & Silver Sharpies, digital photo, magazine pages, discarded faxes, gesso, sticker, water, Moleskine.


-posted on red Ravine, Thursday, January 13th, 2011

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