a digest of updates from a busy artist

artist Nadia Utto and i at the ArtFind kick off party

ArtFind is right around the corner.

ArtFind is an art show coordinated by Soul Arts Society.
Soul Arts Society is a loosely affiliated band of artists who put on shows for their mutual benefit. we, the artists, all live on the Treasure Coast of Florida. ArtFind is our second group show. facebook: @soulartssociety

event posters

my contributions for ArtFind 2018: logo and other graphic elements for web and print, web and social media marketing, coordinating between artists and host businesses. it’s kept me busy.

i will be showing my art at Gray Gardens Design & Salvage. (instagram.com/graygardensdesign)
it’s a great place. i ignored a twinge of guilt and called dibs.
here’s a link for the locals: facebook.com/events/212185782947696/
seriously, if you’re local, please come and support local art and local business.

among other works, i will display my new creation: a fascination lamp.
materials:

  • an old stump (Gray Gardens gave it to me in the spirit of collaboration, and told me i could do whatever i wanted.)
  • a ton of epoxy resin – colored with mica powder and alcohol inks
  • cement and cement mastic for the base
  • random pieces of metal, stone, and the like
  • the vertebrae of some ocean creature (my friend Dominic gave them to me)
  • some hollow glass orbs
  • re-purposed parts from two other lamps
  • and two hundred feet of LED lights.

it’s fascinating. (at least to me.)

challenges: the only real challenge was chiseling out the inside of the stump. you’d think the thing was partly petrified. i chiseled for days. i felt like i was paying some kind of karmic debt. i’m pretty sure the stump is from an Australian Pine, what elsewhere is called she-oak, and is not really a conifer at all. this suspicion is reinforced by another colloquial name for the same tree: ironwood. not funny.
i had a little trouble leveling the base, resulting in some unexpected cement grinding. but now it sits level as a calm sea.

here’s a timeline of progress pics. i’ll share a photo of it finished after the show.


the fifth book in the False Key anthology is OUT and available on the interweb.

the best way to get a hold of a copy is Poetic Justice Books and Art (https://www.poeticjusticebooks.com/). not a local? Kris will ship anywhere.

since we signed every book in the house when Poetic Justice Books & Arts hosted our book launch party, ordering from him is a good way to get your hands on a copy signed by all the authors and the artist responsible for our great cover art.
i mean: fuck amazon! you can support an Actual Independent Book Store!

here’s a photo of us crazy book people. i’m wearing a mask that i made for the occasion.

this is a good place for me to segue from the new book to my future intentions for my space on Patreon.

i will continue to share my creative forays and miscellaneous writing, but i have been floundering for a project that could serve as a main course. and now i think i know what that project is.

i have four not-so-short short stories that are begging to be transformed into a series of illustrated novellas. they are the stories published in the last four False Key anthologies.
they need a little polishing, maybe some adapting. before i wrote PO Box 319 in Somewhere South of Sane, i hadn’t really written anything since college. (excepting drunken ramblings, maybe a poem here and there.) so, in four years of four stories and a few dozen poems, my writing has evolved noticeably.
Conspicuously.
authors, feel me on this. i read that first story and i cringe. i sat down with it and re-worked almost every sentence.

the first five pages, divided into two short chapters, are edited almost to my satisfaction and are ready for illustration. i can’t wait! i am going to be so so extra in filling these books with as many images as there are paragraphs!
is that too much? i don’t know. we’ll just have to work it out as we go.

i’ll restructure my subscription tiers to accommodate these new plans. i still want to offer gifts and correspondence, but the False Key project (title?) will be a main thread and premium content.

first, i have to get through next weekend’s show. after which i will require a day of napping with books.

other news:

  • i helped to hang the first exhibit of the season at the local UU church. i’m a member of that congregation, and a member of the art committee. the next show is mine: i will be on exhibit throughout December. photos coming soon. facebook presence still under development: facebook.com/ArtInTheNarthex
  • i’ve really neglected my etsy shop lately. all of a sudden, i made a few sales, which reminded me of how much i like selling handmade things through a website to people in far away places. moral sufficiently boosted, i hope to post some new products (attractive resin trinkets) within the next week. (etsy.com/shop/BlueLeafShop)

that’s it, a fairly full digest of my artventuring. thanks for riding along.

remover of obstacles (a dream poem)

remover of obstacles (a dream poem)
i trudge the hill, vowing
this year, i will shine academically
write brilliantly, do all the workeven history, which is
in dreams like this
the class i always fail or never attendyou’re unpacking your apartment
in shorts and a faded t-shirt
i learn i remember you in khakis and tweedi want to talk about ideas and intentions
i don’t know how to couch them in conversation
so i read titles from the spines of books

on a shelf, a bookmark with a red tassel:
Ganesh rides his rat in metallic gold
and i think but do not speak

of savagely dog-eared pages
that would have been better served
by Ganesh, remover of obstacles

“Memories, Dreams and Reflections”
the spine of a book offers dream meta
and, waking, i think but do not speak

of Ganesh riding his rat through Maya
conflate it with the words ‘rat race’
this is my year. i rise.

in accordance with a new ritual, i thank the Universe for this dream, and future dreams that move me to write.
thank you, also, for reading.

Sept misc updates

soooo….
i have not posted for a While. i will obviously need to utilize this platform with greater frequency and consistency. here’s to a renewed effort on that front!
and here are some of the things with which i have been busy, busy enough that this facet of expression has been ruthlessly back-burner-ed despite my best intentions.

Florida State Beekeepers Association Annual Conference

i’m painting a bee box to be auctioned! the money will go to honey bee research.
my box has crystals painted on it in a semi-realistic fashion.
this is a study i did as preparation for the task. will post final photos soon!


ArtFind 2018 – Soul Arts Society

i am very busy helping to plan and coordinate this event. i am also doing the graphic elements for promotion and sign-age. and the marketing.

find us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/soulartssociety/

i look forward to participating in this event as an artist as well. on Nov 10th 5-9pm


False Key Anthology

hard to believe it – we are on book 5! the group is also planning to change distribution methods and re-fine some of our earlier editions.
look at the beautiful cover my wonderful boyfriend made!

Howl at the Moon Writers Jam

our long-time running original content open mic has a new home starting in Oct. Howl at the Moon is joining forces with Drop the MIC Night at Ground Floor Farm. Drop the MIC is a weekly open mic, and every third Weds each month will be a Howl at the Moon Writers Jam.


Art in Narthex at the Treasure Coast Unitarian Universalist Congregation

our opening show is in Nov. a member of the congregation will show her fine antique collection of handmade quilts. the RE committee will display textile art by the youngest members of the congregation as a complement to the quilts.
our young members dove right into the project. each received a small picture frame to use as a ‘loom’ for a variety of string, ribbon, strips of material. some of us created very ordered woven pieces, and others experimented with more abstract methods. one more session, and i think we will have some completed pieces for the show.
in Dec, i will show my own art in the Narthex Gallery. this will be my first single-artist show.

ciao for now!
_C

i owe you a poem

this is a poem that i wrote for my friend Dominic who is patiently waiting for me to write enough poetry for us to publish a book together.

i owe you a poem

no excuses but
this poem has traveled far
from its humble beginning
as amorphous sensations at my very core

Jung said the archetypes originate
in the energies of our organs
the Yellow Emperor said the organs
are really rivers and air currents

so this poem has already traveled
from West to East and back again
without even leaving my body

and it is still only a sensation
seeking objects and experience
for dialog must occur for words to coalesce

this may take some time
and let us not forget a week or so
to bounce around the cosmic mind

i fear i must cut the process short
rather than allow the language to mature
to cast off un-needed words like dying leaves

but please accept this poem
though simple and apologetic
has traveled light years to reach you

teenage poetry

stacks of teenage poetry erupt into flame
leaping through the air i grasp at
shards of paper with still legible fragments
feed them back into the blaze
the world will never know them twice
this is my fantasy
in truth:
they sit in stacks of composition journals
dusty in my closet under yearbooks of that era
in a pile of shirts aimed for donation boxes
it is a secret heap of shame
i blush at my adolescent grandiosity
knowing it is still present but better-guised
i think of rifling through the sheaths of paper
scouring for useable bits
seeds for better works
it never makes my to-do list
should i perish tomorrow
it will be like dying in ugly underwear

False Key

thanks to falling in with a fantastic group of authors/collaborators/friends, i am now a published author.  my name’s actually on the cover of this book; how did that happen?
Howl at the Moon Writers Jam, in Stuart, Florida.

HowlAtTheMoonWriters.com
a local nexus for serendipitous authorship
meets the third Thurs. every month at:
Stuart Coffee Co.
55 Flagler Ave
Stuart, FL 34990

my contribution of a single illustration and several short poems is minimal in contrast with the wonderful and weird world these authors have crafted with their stories and poetry.

future False Key projects are in the works…
more shall be revealed.
unless you get eaten by a sea creature.

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the book is freakin’ awesome and is available on amazon and here at our official website: FalseKey.com

please purchase, peruse and enjoy.
thanks for your support.

 

 

Human Incandescence

How long a wait for the
filament to bite it, the
final
tick: the moment to

Apprehension?
believe it will be painless:
the smell of burning cloth from far away,
a trail of ash from an invisible wick.

And then
hanging in the air
Like a buttery salve,
temple incense
gently pooling in the nostrils of the
faithful.

The bulb is dull and black.

To be alive is to be in flames-
Is that true?

A visceral if irrational reality.

Feel it like a bulb in the wrong socket.
Heat that’s light restricted.
It can’t tell you how it feels to burn.

Of a certain type

Seeing your face
can cause me to hate my father
and in turn blame him
for how I wanted you
left waiting beyond all yearning for closure
in the infuriating silence of the phone
it was the same, again
I had to learn
that some things simply must be taken
And I will take… and shall be repaid
I will wear an hourglass on a chain around my neck
as a reminder of what is mine.
Say what you want and think what you will despite all.
You say I can’t hear you;
I say you can’t see.
My candor will grow to menace you
A red bloom, it will open and overtake.
As for the past… call it a crucible.
Or you can call it a damn hard year
but I have learned
how to take.

Writing to be rid of it, a pyre of paper:
sacrificial vessel of words.
Ease them to the flame.
Torn edges light quickly
the weight of the past, wax dripping
the binds of memory, smoky spirals fading
Sweep the past into the fire
The cold stare in the coffee shop: gone.
Misplaced contempt for bus driver: emolliated
along with failed math tests
uncomfortable cafeteria meals
Take it- the early childhood fears
how I ran from the darkness in the hallway
how I almost drowned in the pool
drunk, still holding my cigarette aloft.
I couldn’t ever drown any memories
they surfaced from the sand far too early in the morning
spewing watery venom and the smell of low tide
I shed them as tears and they came back
through my skin to swim again in my ocean
I spoke them and had them spoken back to me
A lit candle is a small thing
but fire is fire and what it does is burn
Burn, word by word, slip away
The darker space beyond the penumbra
rife with the ghosts of unwanted nouns and verbs,
my hands glow weakly, lighter, thinner,
clearer and redder, the veins below my skin.
Cleanse me of my story.
Capillaries etch out hieroglyphs
I read them backward from the inside
like a note taped to a window
Will I soon be gone from here-
a bereft parchment shell, a kite of paper?
Words stream from my fingertips,
I read them finally as they hiss into the flame.
It sputters, flickers and sways
What are we but our stories as they shape us?
Take it- what is left but smoke rising gently into nothing
and inert wax slowly seizing
as the flame of the era sputters and sways?
(Smoke and ash and shapeless wax…)

one yoga poem

sitting beside you on the train
i struggled with all i had learned
about light
trying to fill my body with light
and pierce through the grey shade
of the afternoon
of those days
stacked behind one another like rail cars
doubting days
i stared out the window and remembered
i once seemed so lost i formed a theory
that confusion was the most natural state of man
honestly, it was in youth
before i’d fallen hard enough to learn
truly how to rise
and i’m on better footing now
to go back to my mat
and expore
the model of my life
an ocean fish tending an aquarium garden
reaching from my core and sweating
pulling up the weeds of what
no longer serves me
when i lay down on my back with open arms
it will be to welcome
the world as it always has been
the darkness of the waves at daybreak

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