poemimage

Where text meets image. Where the visual intersects the literary.

Category: Ink drawings

I sent five ink drawings to a poet.

For the cover of her book with a theme – dreams, running throughout the powerful, prophetic poems.

I selected the drawings from two sketchbooks filling simultaneously, slowly, sometimes on the subway, sometimes in a cafe.

I work in these sketchbooks, as well as accordion sketchbooks, on and off, sometimes obsessively & intricately,  sometimes less so.

I love ink drawing and the history of ink drawings – the contrast of line, design. To be honest I don’t want to do ink drawings, it’s inescapable & too pleasurable. An addiction of sorts.

My early heroes were Aubrey Beardsley and later Jan Toorop.

Today I find myself mesmerized by the line of Pict or Runic art and the heavier B&W contrasts in lino & woodcuts.

I have a book from the early 1900s & the author is railing against modernity in ink drawings.

He’s right about traditional, technical skill but quite misses the point.

The quest to return to what was lost in our origins is not determined by accuracy in depiction.

But rather seeing the spirit of the thing.

Or what we imagine is the spirit of the thing.

 

 

Drawing 14 assumes new form

After I broke (shattered!) my ankle I began drawing for long periods in bed.

I used a Sharpie marker on lined paper and numbered the drawings.

Sometimes I titled the drawings and indicated how I might use them, a linocut or a painting.

Drawing 14 broke free of its mooring and reappeared after traveling through several rooms.

I recreated Drawing 14 using digital tools.

1 + 4 = 5. Some people say 5 is a dynamic number of change. An indicator of flux, of positive movement,

& some things never reappear & you realize there might be something else, down in the roots, you need to want more.

And you experience both mystery and loss

while wearing wings and antlers.

Wherever those came from.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Say Never

PID8

I never planned

PID3

To add

PID11

Paul is dead

PID5

To the conspiracies

PID15

Swimming in my head.

PID 1

But as they say

PID22

Never say never.

PID20

A Small Experimental Drawing (and the law of intended consequences)

experimental

After visiting the JMW Turner exhibition for a second time at the Art Gallery of Ontario and wading through the busloads of students and groups of seniors from retirement/nursing homes I realized how fortunate I had been on Friday night when the place was half deserted. Possibly half full.

Detail 1

Again I am reminded of Turner’s grey. Vanishing yet insistent. Drawing the eye. Drawing the eye into. Possibly even halfway in.

detail 6

Sometimes one is drawn by the air of an unexplored territory. Or summoned by insistent mystery. Summoned halfway into a vanishing mystery.

detail 44

I focus on the brilliant whites in Turner’s work, and escape the crush, wandering into a drawing exhibition pulled from the print & drawing vaults.

detail 15

Three of the works refresh anew my dilemma. I think of the Judge’s black robes.

detail 8

 I join a raiding party. The Captain’s name is Font. His horse is called Halfway.

detail 48

The raiding party does not solve my crisis. Nevertheless I raise the end of a burnt stick from the fire.

detail 7

Marking the edge of the law. My declaration marking the edge of the law.

detail 4

There is no natural boundary to the embedded law of intended consequence.

ink amber 4

Another edge must roll it back to where it came from. Or swallow it. Leaving its bones along the trail.

ink amber detail 3

The edge of the sun!

The ambers, and whites, and Naples Yellow in Turner’s sky, radiating with silent resolution.

amber ink sun 100

Let me tell you a story about Naples Yellow.

ink amber 9

I visited an artist one night many years ago.

There are many stories to tell about that night but I will tell you this one.

When I was leaving, at the bottom of the stairs, the artist began talking about Naples Yellow.

And did not stop.

ink amber

The artists, the art periods, the art movements involved with Naples Yellow.

The secret uses of Naples Yellow, The powers of Naples Yellow, the magic of Naples Yellow.

ink amber 8

Perhaps Naples Yellow can solve my dilemma.

amber ink sun 100

 

Yes

new5

I did a drawing

interaction3

And decided to call it

natural 3

‘Yes’

new5

Because there are so many reasons

interaction3

To say

natural 3

‘No.’

ink4new5ink4

After an extended break I find myself slowly catching up with the many interesting posts I missed. A short while longer to finish some things (I haven’t really been taking an actual…holiday) and POEMIMAGE will be active again. It will be my pleasure to introduce you to many interesting poets and writers whose work I will be addressing visually.  As well I’ll relate some of my own ideas and writing. I need to complete my end of the ‘Blog Hop’ bargain after Richard Guest generously shared my page with his readers. Thank you for gracing this page with your presence.

new5interaction3natural 3

, Autumn Morning

morning-1

poema 7

Poema 20

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, “The night is starry

and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.”

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.

I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.

And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.

My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.

My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.

We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.

Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms

my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer

and these the last verses that I write for her.

Pablo Neruda

poema 7

morning-1

An Asymmetrical Drawing Lightly & Beyond

spontaneous sketch

You might think the birds would fly three dimensionally

Into this their second body of branches and leaves,

Tuning a vibrational revelation at mechanisms

Attuned eons ago to invisible knowledge,

Whispering upon silent migration,

 Twigs and victorious feather,

Summery din of magic,

Sunlight swooping,

Midnight vine

Asleep in

Dreams

Made

Of

medium

I glean pathways, spiralling gyres, thin vivacious lines

Echoing in silvery twigs & prehistorical symbolism,

Glimmering beyond this garden of fallen souls,

 A volcanic woman nesting like a blue bird,

Her bed an ancient sea of knowledge,

Flowering & blooming oceanic sky

Harmonizing & hammering,

Hypnotizing shadows arc

Perceiving caravans,

Intuiting stone,

Entrancing

Watery

Eyes

Of

bookism

Those nights and days, mostly nights, shaded and cool,

Illuminated by the slow voyaging of distant starlight,

 Songs of star-birds meandering far from magnetic

Fields with soft grasses imprinted upon wings,

Upon all motion, this hand with pen, now

A decision as if Original Idea, golden

Original Thought, in purposeful

 Cascading winds, lighting

Archways & beyond,

Whose feathers

And twigs

Speak

Of

with circlenew tomorrowpsd

I Have Learned So Much by Hafiz

new

I

Have

Learned

So much from God

That I can no longer

Call

Myself

circular detailgreen night

A Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim,

a Buddhist, a Jew.

invited

The Truth has shared so much of Itself

With me

spoken

That I can no longer call myself

A man, a woman, an angel,

Or even a pure

Soul.

whipporwhillpearl

Love has

Befriended Hafiz so completely

It has turned to ash

And freed

Me

zz2feather

Of every concept and image

my mind has ever known.

swimming 2

From: ‘The Gift’  

Translated by Daniel Ladinsky

thouest thou only

I did the ink drawing in my Moleskin sketchbook within the last few days

using a Micron drawing pen with archival ink.

And the digital manipulations of the image within the last 24 hours or so

using Photoshop 5.

new moodnew

 

 

 

 

 

I Know The Way You Can Get by Hafiz

coffee face on lid

I know the way you can get

When you have not had a drink of Love:

Evidence Bcoffee stain 1

Your face hardens,

Your sweet muscles cramp.

Children become concerned

About a strange look that appears in your eyes

Which even begins to worry your own mirror

And nose.

origcoffee stain 3

Squirrels and birds sense your sadness

And call an important conference in a tall tree.

They decide which secret code to chant

To help your mind and soul.

touch of bluecoffee stain fragment againcoffee overlaid on black and white

Even angels fear that brand of madness

That arrays itself against the world

And throws sharp stones and spears into

The innocent

And into one’s self.

duotone deluxetwo types of ecstacy

O I know the way you can get

If you have not been drinking Love:

coffee face on lidlids lids lids

You might rip apart

Every sentence your friends and teachers say,

Looking for hidden clauses.

coffee mountain

You might weigh every word on a scale

Like a dead fish.

coffeeism

You might pull out a ruler to measure

From every angle in your darkness

The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once

Trusted.

2 coffee

I know the way you can get

If you have not had a drink from Love’s

Hands.

3 coffee

That is why all the Great Ones speak of

The vital need

To keep remembering God,

So you will come to know and see Him

As being so Playful

And Wanting,

Just Wanting to help.

blimp and lid in the desertmorphed

That is why Hafiz says:

Bring your cup near me.

For all I care about

Is quenching your thirst for freedom!

cinematic shadowthe tomorrow

All a Sane man can ever care about

Is giving Love!

origcoffee face on lid

From: I Heard God Laughing – Renderings of Hafiz

Translated by Daniel Ladinsky

Today

today a

Today you forget again

You stay with forgetting

(again)

Today you forget again

You stay with forgetting

(again)

You taste forgetting

today e

Again

You taste

Forgetting

today b

You taste forgetting

(again)

You stay with forgetting

(again)

today c

You forget forgetting

You taste forgetting

(again)

(again)

today d

You taste forgetting

You forget forgetting

today e

You taste forgetting

(again)

today a

Today

today b

you

today c

forget

today d

(again)

today e