Spontaneous Brush Poem
Not quite insomnia, just that you have difficulty falling back asleep after waking up in the very early morning hours. Read for a bit. Then without thinking about it too much, pull out the digital brush and start painting and writing.
Finish and save one panel, erase and being a new panel, rinse and repeat, till the poem tells you it has come to an end. As poems do. The energy changes when a poem has told you it's at an end, like the water going slack when the well stops pumping.
The title is arbitrary, just what comes into your head at that moment. The brush poem says it wants to be "no. 4" so you agree to it. Nothing more than that.
The back cover title page wants to be different, as if the poem were bound in a hand-stitched Japanese notebook. Small, pocket size, bound in papyrus or hatched brown paper. Maybe that's in fact just the way the poem wants to be bound. Poem in a sketchbook, bound for glory.
An artist is one who responds to experince by making art. Even if it's just not-quite-insomnia in the middle of the night.
Finish and save one panel, erase and being a new panel, rinse and repeat, till the poem tells you it has come to an end. As poems do. The energy changes when a poem has told you it's at an end, like the water going slack when the well stops pumping.
The title is arbitrary, just what comes into your head at that moment. The brush poem says it wants to be "no. 4" so you agree to it. Nothing more than that.
The back cover title page wants to be different, as if the poem were bound in a hand-stitched Japanese notebook. Small, pocket size, bound in papyrus or hatched brown paper. Maybe that's in fact just the way the poem wants to be bound. Poem in a sketchbook, bound for glory.
An artist is one who responds to experince by making art. Even if it's just not-quite-insomnia in the middle of the night.
Labels: brushwork, calligraphy, digital art, painting, poem, prose-poem
posted by Art Durkee at 10:45 AM
2 Comments:
spiritual, moving ...
I was up late last night, unable to sleep, so I wrote cat haiku, the two orange brothers hanging around providing subject matter.
When I was groggy enough to lie more or less still without the light on I started making up lightbulb jokes.
For instance:
How many fundamentalists does it take to change a light bulb?
Haven't you read your Bible? All the answers are in there.
How many Zen Buddhists does it take to change a lightbulb?
One to change lightbulb, one not to change lightbulb.
Thanks. Hope you finally to to sleep.
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