This month’s guest teacher-writer is Anna J. Small Roseboro who helps us celebrate National Hispanic Heritage Month, September 15 — October 15, a time of year to pause and reflect on the rich history, heritage, and contributions of Hispanic and Latino (LatinX) Americans to the United States. However, we share resources during this 5-day writing challenge to support plans to develop an inclusive curriculum all year long.
Inspired by an Artist
A native of Detroit, Michigan, I learned early about the art of muralist Diego Rivera, whose magnificent paintings of Motor City history grace the walls of the Detroit Institute of Arts (DIA). We had school trips to view the Rivera frescos, and as a college student at Wayne State University, I worked at the DIA. Today, I invite you to view a painting by an artist of Hispanic heritage whose artwork is making history by capturing the current or past events.
Process
Here is a link for inspiration from the Hispanic American collection at the Smithsonian Art Museum in DC.
72 artists: ADÁL, Manuel Acevedo, Elia Alba, Olga Albizu, Carlos Almaraz, Jesse Amado, Asco (Harry Gamboa Jr., Gronk, Willie Herrón and Patssi Valdez), Luis Cruz Azaceta, Myrna Báez, Guillermo Bejarano, Charles “Chaz” Bojórquez, María Brito, Margarita Cabrera, María Magdalena Campos-Pons, Melesio “Mel” Casas, Leonard Castellanos, Oscar R. Castillo, José Cervantes, Enrique Chagoya, Roberto Chavez, Carlos A. Cortéz, Marcos Dimas, Ricardo Favela, Christina Fernandez, Teresita Fernández, iliana emilia garcía, Rupert García, Scherezade García, Carmen Lomas Garza, Ignacio Gomez, Ken Gonzales-Day, Hector González, Luis C. “Louie the Foot” González, Muriel Hasbun, Ester Hernandez, Judithe Hernández, Carmen Herrera, Carlos Irizarry, Luis Jiménez, Miguel Luciano, Emanuel Martinez, María Martínez-Cañas, Antonio Martorell, Ana Mendieta, Amalia Mesa-Bains, Franco Mondini-Ruiz, Delilah Montoya, Malaquias Montoya, Abelardo Morell, Jesús Moroles, Raphael Montañez Ortiz, Pepón Osorio, Amado M. Peña Jr., Chuck Ramirez, Paul Henry Ramirez, Sophie Rivera, Arturo Rodríguez, Freddy Rodríguez, Joseph Rodríguez, Frank Romero, Emilio Sánchez, Juan Sánchez, Jorge Soto Sánchez, Rafael Soriano, Ruben Trejo, Jesse Treviño, John M. Valadez, Alberto Valdés, and Xavier Viramontes.
- Select a piece of art.
- Enter the art; explore it as though you were there. What do you see, hear, taste, touch, and smell? How do you feel? Capture that any way you wish in the comment section below.
- Or, look at the mentor poem below. Use that to guide you. Try first person. Add some dialogue for syntax variation.
- Alternately, try writing from another point of view. If you are short on time, try a haiku (5-7-5) or a triplet (3 lines with the same meter that can have a varied rhyme scheme as a-a-a, a-b-a).
- Another idea is to copy and paste the picture on a slide, then add your lines of poetry to the side. Save a jpeg. Post lines here, the send the jpeg to our host, Sarah J. Donovan, to create a collage of artwork.
- Essentially, we welcome any and all writing.
- Please include in the introduction to your poem, the link to the painting that inspired it. If you insert the link to the image, it should appear in the comment, below your poem.
Anna’s Poem
“Flights of Imagination” inspired by Painting by Schererezade García The Dominion York, from the series Islands of Many Gods (2006) acrylic, charcoal, ink and sequins on paper
National Hispanic Heritage Month Video Bonus
All are welcome to participate in the 5-day Open Write — from one day to all days, depending on your schedule. There are no set rules for the length of a poem, and you are free to modify or reject the prompts as you wish, allowing you to write whatever is on your mind or in your heart. We firmly believe that the best writing instructors are actual writers, and this platform offers a supportive environment for you to nurture your writing journey. Just scroll down to share your poem in the comment section. For more information about the Open Writes click here.
Absentmindedly I do my chores,
So that my children may never
have to worry about having clean
clothes. I don’t mind being a home-
maker; the lifestyle suits me.
I take pride in providing for my
family. I thrive on the happiness
of everyone, and always pray
that they all arrive home safe
at the end of the day.
From head to toe,
I begin to freeze.
The tips of my hair,
then my eyelashes begin to frost
as my nose turns red and
my cheeks turn rosy.
My limbs become numb,
as does the heart inside.
Cold.
Bitter.
There is no end to the feeling.
I turn to run.
Trying to gain warmth,
But it spreads to my legs as
they begin to become frozen,
as does the heart inside.
Cold.
Bitter.
Fleeing from the frozen.
Fleeing from the pain.
Fleeing from the past of knowing
its going to happen again.
https://americanart.si.edu/artwork/decoy-gang-war-victim-83907
Art: Decoy Gang War Victim
Who is the true victim of a gang war?
I am the victim: the blood soaked asphalt
I am the victim: the flicking blood red flairs
I am the victim: the blood drenched cotton shirt
I am the victim: the blood splattered street lamps
I am the victim: the blood shattered windows
I am the victim: the blood curdling car alarms
I am the victim: the blood tanged smokey air
I am the victim: the bloody taste of a never ending cycle of revenge
I am the victim: the bloodied caress of death
Late afternoon hunger hits.
As I walk to the kitchen I once again see the red heart left on the fridge.
What an odd place for a heart to be on display?
They always say the way to a persons heart is through their stomach.
However, this is something more.
The central location for a family.
A place to gather and be together.
Maybe it makes sense then to always have your heart on display.
Art: Sun Mad by Ester Hernandez
https://americanart.si.edu/artwork/sun-mad-34712
Long days in the sweltering sun,
oppressed by those that hang above.
There is no rest for us, the weary,
Our long days, tired and dreary.
Unnatural in every way,
Naturally grown from the sweat of us.
Air so toxic we cannot breathe,
Nowhere to go so we can never leave.
As I felt inside her:
Mary, Mother of God,
Unwitting stepmother to the holy scorners
Who brand the skin of our entwined palms with confessionals
Who carve the icons into our back and leave us draped across the altar,
The Book closed, The Blood poured, The Body ravished.
Mary, who beheld the gashes in her Son’s flesh
Left by trails of burned palm fronds and sharp shouts of denial
Hands me softly a red rose,
The Body, The Blood– a Love Everlasting.
Two empty chairs sat facing one another
The grey of the sky seemed to meld with the dark hues of the churning sea
Footprints have long left the beach
Yet the chairs sat firmly implanted within their grainy sand prison
The rhythm of the waves emanated a salty chorus
In the distance, the caw of seagulls intertwined with the barreling ocean
Who used to sit here
Who will sit on these monuments in the future?
Or will the ever-present tide claim these wooden structures for good.
Only the sea knows….
The man in the moon
?itok=SPo5eiMJ
looked upon them and thought to himself,
“how beautiful they look tonight”
Short but thought provoking. I really like this. Sometimes less is more.
She traveled across the southwest,
always looking and dressing her best.
For her grandmother she walked,
of her story she talked.
To know her history now, she felt blessed.
I loved this! Especially how you used rhyme and structure.
Art: Decoy Gang War Victim by Gronk
Lying there wondering if I’ll ever get up
Looking up at the night sky,
Asking myself how I ended up here
On this cold street in the middle of the night,
Horrible thoughts zooming through my mind
Distant car sirens and other noises in the distance,
A feeling of uncertainty and frightfulness
To only realize I had awoke and it was all a dream.
When you wrote “it was all a dream” I felt relieved, as the speaker probably did. This image coupled with the poem creates even more sadness because you can interpret that the speaker probably had a great fear of falling victim to gang violence.
A clever line you wrote is “Horrible thoughts zooming through my mind
Distant car sirens and other noises in the distance” I like this because you connected the zooming of cars to your thoughts.
bananas and big leaves and thick trunks
rolling mountains chase the horizon
and the space in between
the purples and the blues
where are you?
A clever line you chose was “rolling mountains chase the horizon” because if I was just looking at this art piece I wouldn’t have even thought of it like this. Love the creativity!
wow! first of all this image is SO cool. I love how you ended with a question. It made me really self-reflective. Thank you for sharing!
It has always been this way
at least that’s what Papá
keeps saying.
how do I tell him
the weight of his words
are like chains binding me?
when he smiles at me
all I see is myself
in thirty years
telling my son
It has always been this way.
Jesse Treviño, Tienda de Elizondo, 1993, acrylic on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of the Reverend Virgilio Elizondo, San Fernando Cathedral, San Antonio, Texas
I can relate to the part “it has always been the same” because I feel the same way with my mother going to school to be a teacher like she did almost 30 years ago.
I think the heart of this poem is
“in in thirty years
telling my son”
because it really draws the entire image to a concise idea and story. I love the imagery you presented!
This gave me goosebumps! When you said “it has always been this way” it really shifted the mood of the image to be more haunting!
Art: Candor De La Alborada by Rafael Soriano
[caption id="attachment_1471" align="aligncenter" width="300"]
Candor De La Alborda by Rafael Soriano[/caption]
Mom holding her peeps
Kids connected by a kiss
or is it a breath of bliss?
Skull crushing the kids
or mom holding her peeps?
Heat
Heart, leg
red nails, yellow heads
holding, touching hands,
touching, kicking leg(s)
Chopped, curved, tangled
Are you mouning what you have lost?
or celebrating what you must?
Rafael? Mr. Soriano?
==
I also decided to write a blog post http://trivediziemba.edublogs.org/2019/09/17/rafael/ with this poem and a little bit more.
Candor De La Alborada by Rafael Soriano. Shall I say more? It inspire me to write a poem and a blogpost http://trivediziemba.edublogs.org/2019/09/17/rafael/
Presenting Rafael?, the poem
Mom holding her peeps
Kids connected by a kiss
or is it a breath of bliss?
Skull crushing the kids
or mom holding her peeps?
Heat
Heart, leg
red nails, yellow heads
holding, touching hands,
touching, kicking leg(s)
Chopped, curved, tangled
Are you mouning what you have lost?
or celebrating what you must?
Rafael? Mr. Soriano?
I chose Mexican photographer Lola Alvarez Bravo’s photo “Going Up and Going Down,”
but my poem references three of her photos from the exhibit “Picturing Mexico.”
“Lola Álvarez Bravo”
la chica moderna
picturing modern Mexico;
her camera, a “third eye”
utilitarian object of
functional reality
capturing subjective visions,
patterns documenting,
recalibrating perceptions,
rotating darkroom negatives,
exposing light in shadowed spaces,
magnifying ordinary lives:
three figures on stairs
going up
&
going down,
zigzagging spindles,
directional changes,
unidentifiable abstractions;
washerwomen we glimpse from behind
overshadowed,
tiny objects,
toiling in
their work, exposed;
ordinary
young girl sitting on a porch
reading her book
finding her way through words.
fotos con arte
layered on
diverse peopled landscapes
these extraordinary lives.
https://pulitzerarts.org/exhibition/lola-alvarez-bravo/
Glenda, once again you’ve demonstrated your incredible talent for finding perfectly chosen and evocative words. How long did it take you to write this poem? Asking for a friend…?
Hi Mo, It took me a while to choose an artist. Once I found Bravo, I read an article about her and searched images. I wrote most of the poem this morning in less than an hour and finished it tonight after returning to the hotel. I’m in NYC and spent the day being a tourist going to the Strand bookstore, visiting the 9-11 Memorial and museum, and seeing a show. ?
I’ve been thinking about when to retire. You’re making me think sooner rather than later!
When you retire, come run around the world w/ me!
Gkenda,
Thanks for sharing the link for the picture. Looking at the picture, my mind wondered to Guggenheim museum; a totally different structure but evocative all the same.
As usual, your poem is pulsating with life.
Best wishes.
Purviben
https://trivediziemba.edublogs.org
@trivediziemba
Using the exhibition label for Jesús B. Moroles’ Granite Weaving, I created this found poem.
Granite Weaving
Born of fire from
deep in the earth
weaving
the fabric of the crust
of the planet
He speaks in terms of
ancient structures
the wall of a stepped pyramid
recall natural materials of land art
supported and buttressed
by stone.
Granite Weaving
?itok=xIzRpSAn
Unites
Chea, I wasn’t familiar with Moroles’ work, so thanks for introducing it to me. Your poem seems to get right to the essence of his work. I really like your opening lines.
Chea, the idea of a found poem in art appeals to me, especially the emphasis on natural images: Fire, granite, stone.
Chea, the use of found poems in different contexts are very powerful and with the exhibition label–very innovative. I visualize the lines “weaving/the fabric of the crust” through so many lenses.
She buckles red shoes tonight
?itok=QZG7u1hf
“B-9” the caller intones
“B-alive” she knows.
https://americanart.si.edu/artwork/loteria-tabla-llena-34739
Carmen Lomas Garza https://americanart.si.edu/artist/carmen-lomas-garza-6783
Love the shoes, love the sentiment, and love the artwork!
Allison,
Wonderful art. Those shoes really stand out in the image. They make a statement in both your poem and the art, love the way you make this point.
Allison- How fitting for this etching with those red shoes, the marked color in that old fashioned Bingo setting, to have your definitive poem of a dozen words! Brilliant idea. The O sound so right for Bingo! (Intones/knows). I’m learning so much through the paintings and poems today. You selected a wonderful art piece. It tickled me also because I just played Bingo at a crazy “black light Bingo” fundraiser , not having played Bingo since I was a kid. Funny and fun. I sure liked your B-9/B-Alice…in those red shoes! And buckles no less! Dandy! Thanks, Susie
Although she isn’t known for depicting historical events, Remedios Varo is one of my favorite painters. She is Spanish-Mexican and known for her surrealist work that has roots in alchemy. I chose to write about her haunting painting Creation of the Birds (1957).
Alone I create
Birds who become me, as light
Animates our lives
http://www.criticismism.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/remedios-varo.jpg
http://www.criticismism.com/2010/06/26/remedios-varo-the-creation-of-the-birds-1957/#sthash.hnBf4kDU.dpbs
Wow! Your words enhance the experience of viewing this haunting painting. Thank you for the juxtaposition of “alone I create” and “light animates our lives.”
It’s amazing how something so short can pack such a vivid punch. Each word is obviously very carefully weighed and chosen. “as light/animates our lives” rolls so beautifully, each syllable brings a softness. Love it!
Mo,
This is a wonderful first person point of view poem. “Birds who become me” captured the anthropomorphism of the art, and emphasizes human connections to nature.
Mo,
your bravity is laudable. Will I ever be able to write so succinct and impactful?
Thank you for introducing me to creation of the Birds. The owl lady w violin thristing out of her heart reminded me of our daughter’s search for owl themed items at one time. Thnk you for bringing me back to the time when we created, searched and grew.
Best wishes.
Purviben
http://trivediziemba.edublogs.org/
@TrivediZiemba
“I Dreamed I Could Fly” by Carlos Almaraz
Ancestral Dreams
Standing tall and old
in front of my childhood home
was the tree that held the faces
of relatives long gone
of ancestors in chains
who called out to me
soundless
hands reaching
with love
eyes like guiding lights
Divine powers cloaked me
?itok=0UjuFJ4H
into sacred sap
down to invisible roots
“Fear not the flames
Nor the storms.”
Fires burned rooftops
Smoke billowed from windows
But heaven’s hallowed haze
Shifted to show me myself
Flying and free.
https://americanart.si.edu/artwork/i-dreamed-i-could-fly-109472
Wow, Stacey! This is amazing. Each and every one of your images is so vivid and powerful. Your word choice is superb. I clearly see the tree, the past, and the future.
Thanks Mo! I appreciate your feedback.
Stacey, Your poem reflects so strongly the power of dreams and the power of art to inspire dreams. My favorite lines are “But heaven’s hallowed haze/Shifted to show me myself/flying and free”.
What makes this so inspiring is the idea/belief that “heaven is hallowed” and we may at time find our pathway hazy/cloudy/hard to see, but in your poem, you speak hope! The the haze shifts, reveals what the speaker needs to see in order to continue on. I love it!
Thank you so much Anna. I’m glad you enjoyed it and took the time to share your feedback.
Stacey – This is like a marvelous rush of magical realism. That comes with the images of “the tree that held the faces,” “divine powers cloaked me into sacred sap,” “ancestors in chains calling out,” “heavens hallowed haze shifted to show me myself flying and free,”. What a dandy poem to unveil Carlos Almaraz’ piece! Wowza! I love this. The line breaks keep a sort of rhythm that, when I reread this out loud, brought this forward beautifully visual. Thanks! Susie
Thank you Susie! Your feedback brought fresh joy to my morning!
Unknown Distances by iliana emilia garcia
They sit empty,
?itok=9ByHDo5Q
waiting silently
facing each other.
A span of a few yards separating the distance.
Further than an arm’s reach
yet close enough to see distinguishing features.
Coarse jute.
Weathered wood.
Rough hewn spindles.
The first so much like the other,
solitary in their positions but joined by similarities.
Bound to the land yet on the edge of the sea
only feet from a journey just begun
or recently ended.
https://americanart.si.edu/artwork/unknown-distances-series-unknown-distancesundiscovered-islands-85593
Jennifer – This is fun to visit again today! Zachariah’s wrote about this same artwork/photograph, helping me really jump right into your poem. I really liked that you pulled those details from the chairs. I LOVED the metaphor possibilities— “rough hewn…so much like the other… solitary in position…but joined…bound to the land yet…edge of the sea”- so much like so many of us …close and almost connected and yet not. This took me on a “journey”! Nicely done!!! Thank you! Susie
Jennifer, thanks for adding this piece of art to those we’re viewing and writing about today. My favorite lines are “Further than arm’s reach/yet close enough to see distinguishing features.”Your poem shows what flights of imagination can add to a discussion about art.
These lines seal it for me: “The first so much like the other,/solitary in their positions but joined by similarities.” I could see this as an impetus to have students writing about characters from different stories, historical personages, or current political leaders being required to sit in these chairs until they resolve issues that separate(d) them.
So many ways to go with just a pair of chair on the beach!
Jennifer, that ending: “Bound to the land yet on the edge of the sea only feet from a journey just begun or recently ended” leaves enough hope that life will get better. “Close enough to see distinguishing features” yet unreachable supports the notion of unknown distances – – the title of the poem. What a picture! What a poem! What a feeling of needing connection and feeling the distance between hearts. Powerful.
El grito still booms
Breaking silence for freedom
New nemesis now
Reacting to Juan O’Gormon’s “Retablo de la independencia”
https://www.britannica.com/biography/Miguel-Hidalgo-y-Costilla
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zxqCUduARJ8/UjZnZsNEHoI/AAAAAAAABgQ/v2CeSsiy4RA/s1600/imagen-1.png
Stefani, Onomatopoeia and alliteration do it! “booms/breaking the silence”. We may not have been familiar with this painting or it’s significance before your poem, but now we know how to view this masterpiece.
I love the power in your word choices (boom, breaking, nemesis). Beautiful choices for a beautiful art piece.
“New nemesis now” – Wow. I was really struck by the way this line speaks to the idea of ‘progress’. It made me think of Orwell’s thoughts around revolution and how one will always be needed because there is always a new nemesis… because human imperfection persists, but freedom is always worth the effort. Thanks so much for sharing!
ARTIST: LINDA LUCIA SANTANA – Santana, a contemporary Latina artist. Her collection Cantos y Corridos conveys the images and stories of six complicated figures on the Mexico-Texas border who gained notoriety spawned out of racist, anti-racist, ethical, and political tensions ravaging this part of the 1850s to the 1920s landscape. Learning about these figures is eye-opening, and Santana’s art opens windows for our learning. Of particular interest to me were the women, la adelitas/soldaderas, who fought in the Mexican Revolution. This gives rise to a whole personae of strong Latinas currently facing the cruelty at our border with Mexico and across the U.S.
Check out these websites to learn more about this young artist and her provocative artistry:
https://lindaluciasantana.com/section/361183-Cantos-y-Corridos.html ;
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Adelita ; https://scholarworks.gvsu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1217&context=mcnair
LA ADELITA
A revolution fought with strong men,
power grabs,
bullets flying,
terrorizing shootouts,
revenge and vendettas;
Emiliano Zapata,
Pancho Villa,
Venustiano Carranza
Victoriano Huerta,
Diaz…
the Mexican Revolution
held another story.
La Adelita,
volunteer or commandeered,
she battled,
strapped herself in bandoliers,
dungarees and boots,
pushed her voice deep to its roots;
Soldaderas,
nursed and cooked,
smuggled, readied weapons, fought,
followed and led,
hallowed and slaughtered
at Villa’s hand, a massacre, a pyre
of nameless women
in the margins.
by Susie Morice
Susie, your shift from the males with charges behind them (Zapata/ Zapatistas) to the females Adelita (and a pyre of nameless women) who could both nurse and slaughter shows such a powerful spirit of “being the change” in the world. I love how she both followed and led – – it shows an appropriate season for each and reminds us that there are times for both following and leading, both nursing and slaughtering. I like the lines that begin, back to back, followed and hallowed. Those nameless women in the margins are haunting.
Your visual images (strapped herself in bandoliers, dungarees and boots) pull this artwork to life. The contrast between your beginning (fought with strong men) and ending (nameless women in the margins) is a commentary on much of this life. I appreciate this as bookends.
Susie, The Long “O” sound in much of your diction ( hallowed, sought, fought, followed) echoes the hollowness w/ which history so often treats women and their contributions. I love the way your poem centers La Adelita, taking women out of the margins, giving voice to their own story.
Loneliness pervades this landscape
Gray skies embrace the waves
That kiss the shore
The distance between us
Is endless as the sea
I am solitary except for you
No one but you has kept me company
If only I could move towards you
If only you could move towards me
After iliana emilia garcia’s ‘Unknown Distances’
Zacarias — I really liked this image/photograph, and your poem captured the loneliness so very well. The grey “embrace[s] the waves” just right. And the gentleness of the water in the sands — “kiss the shore” — aah yes! And the two chairs in Garcia’s image and the wish “if only…” they could move together. You’ve captured that melancholy in a sort of Andrew Wyeth kind of way. Cool! Susie
Thank you. I appreciate your feedback and response.
Zacarias, your words – loneliness, distance, solitary, no one – create the tone of emptiness against the backdrop of those gray skies. Your ending of repeating “if onlys” reinforce the idea that loneliness is perilous to this poor soul who desires the companionship of the only one who has kept him or her company. It makes me wonder if this is grief in a situation that someone cannot return or if it is abandonment where someone won’t or can’t undo the separation. You leave enough questions that it allows the reader to write the story, as all good writing should.
I found this photo haunting and evocative (I also chose this). Your word choices (pervades, embrace, kiss) build the mood beautifully. The “if only” last lines cement the separation.
Zacarias, this poem touches me deeply because it reminded me of the losses in my life. “No one but you has kept me company/If only I could move towards you/If only you could move towards me” took my breath away.
Anna — Your channeled thoughts of that precious little girl are just wonderful. I particularly liked the wordplay and rhyme, both alliteration and assonance: thrum/drum; tango/tang and tango/tunes. Then, the giggle at the end that she might well be daydreaming at school…. thinking way more exciting stuff than that which was happening at that moment in the classroom. I really loved how you pulled the painting’s airplane swirling right into the little girl’s imaginings. Fun! Susie
Rupert García, Political Prisoner, 1976, pastel on paper, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Rupert García and Sammi Madison-García, 1978.107, © 1976, Rupert García
Ask. Seek. Knock.
No.
Asylum.
No.
No. No.
No voice. Tears.
No rights. Screams.
No home. Running.
No. No more.
No more hate.
I love the repetition of the word No. Basically, your words reflect the lack present in the art piece.
NJ — So real a sense of horror comes from the “knock” and the “No” repeated. Then, I looked up the painting and just was so, so moved to see how your words “scream[ed]” the injustice of this reality. The final line “No more hate.” takes me to the blue surrounding the muted screams and has me feeling that “prisoner” anguish. Quite a provocative piece in so few words! Good for you! Susie
NJ, Others have said, but I repeat it. You’ve used repetition in both negative and positive ways to show the problem and offer a solution to it. “No, no more./No more hate.”
The way you’ve positioned the words adds so much power to this piece. You open with three (like a knocking on a door). The punch of the singular word lines. And then the back and forth of short, tight sentences, two to a line, as if the person were running.
As the sun sets, I wake
to the places I dreamed,
too afraid to be until
Night casts its spell.
A canvas under one arm,
color palette in the other,
I float down flights of stairs
to the carnival of Night’s life.
My spot is just at the corner.
I watch from the bench balcony
Night’s magic unfold until
the paints move my palm.
Ground-up pigment
suspended in linseed
solvent for fluidity —
ultramarine blue
for the dancer blowing bubbles
cobalt
for the beauty gazing at her reflection
alizarin crimson
to light the way for the alley boy
cadmium yellow
for the energy beneath feet, across bodies
raw umber and burnt sienna
for the dreams dancing in the sky.
Night’s shadow drifts my way.
I hurry to layer thin over thick
to stretch the magic a little longer
but his umbrella covers the scene
and cadmium yellow guides us home.
Until tomorrow, Night.
Night Magic by Carlos Almaraz (1988)
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Oooh, Sarah — I love the voice of the artist. This is keenly effective and pulling my eye to the art and color in ways that would likely have slipped right past me. Like the “cad yellow…energy beneath feet,” the “beauty…reflection” — geez, I didn’t even recognize that it was, in fact, a mirror. How utterly effective your poem is in rendering meaning from such vibrant artwork. Plus, you taught me art technical bits that make this such a scholarly piece: “ground-up pigment suspended in linseed.” Kudus to Anna for inviting us to walk in the artist’s shoes via voice. I might be inclined to rework my piece with the voice of the “La Adelita” that I worked on this morning. Don’t you just love this poetry work!? So much fun! You and Anna have inspired me! Thanks! Susie
Marvelous. I love how you have incarnated the figure on the bottom left ( out of all the others) and gave him a voice to reflect on his masterpiece. I love your use of the various colors used in the painting, too.
I’m loving the way you spelled out the reasons for the colors – cadmium yellow, energy beneath the feet, for example. I looked at this piece myself earlier and all that would come to mind is pervasive presence, so I didn’t get the whole feeling of the carnival of night and all the feeling of enjoyment of life – – I love what you saw in it! I think I love the poetry as much as seeing how different writers see different aspects in the pieces they chose. Your brain works creatively and imaginatively, and we realize it over and over again with your writing.
All of your details invite us to look more closely at the poem. It took me a bit to locate the umbrella as my eye was drawn to other figures first, though, you remind us they are equally important. You bring joy to what at first glance feels like a darker piece (to me). Dreams. Carnivals. Dancers. Bubbles.
Sarah, your choice of specific names for different paint color adds a level of sophistication to your poem. You’re sending me to color charts to learn about these subtle shades in this intense work of art.. I see them, but would not know how to name them!
Your line “raw umber and burnt sienna” stand out, not because of the color words but the extremes of raw and burnt. Clever writing! I enjoy a challenge that entices me to learn.
Sarah, First I love the art. The line “carnival of night’s life” captures the image spectacularly.
I selected Camas Para Suenos by Carmen Lomas Garza to write a Haiku:
Beds for Dreams (Camas para Suenos)
Rooftop bed for dreams
Moonlight tints the art canvas
Artist sisters bloom
-Kim Johnson
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Kim — I love this painting and your haiku does lovely justice to it. This is especially poignant to me, as I woke this morning to the huge moon still up there in the clouds! How perfect! I like that you found “rooftop bed for dreams” especially. Thanks for getting this posted this morning! Susie
Kim, It’s interesting that you wrote from the perspective of the girls on the roof. When I viewed this painting, I was drawn to the mother looking at the cross, not aware of the danger her children may be in, is praying that her children will be kept safe…wherever they are.
Interesting, isn’t it, the way the same art work can evoke such different responses. Thanks for sharing yours.
Artist sisters! I love this idea of them. Rooftop bed is a beautiful visual. There is hope in your writing and in the art. It makes me realize the older woman is bound to chores and the younger girls still have time to dream.
Kim, I am a Haiku lover and yours tells such a loving story of the artist’s work. I love the “artist sisters bloom” because it’s how I feel sometimes with my writing/art, I just need it to bloom. Beautiful.
Kim, I am feeling the moonlight tints–this draws me directly to how the moonlight details/shadowing/tinting by the artist. It is a great description of what the moon does outside of the art as well.
I ALMOST wrote about this painting! You have done so beautifully. I love the idea of the sisters blooming into artists by their rooftop experience feeds their souls!
Kim, this work of art is spectacular. To me it’s a commentary on the dreams girls have and the reality women experience in their domestic lives. Your haiku speaks beautifully to the dreams, and I love the comparison of a roof to a bed. Such s tightly constructed poem.