Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Monday, October 26, 2015
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Friday, August 21, 2015
Bonanza: A Poem
Bonanza
We are on a journey,
a journey over the western plains,
Hoss Cartwright sits upon an elephant
as he leads us all.
He is Majesty complete, thinks I,
he perches with such dignity.
The elephant rolls along as
if on roller skates.
His trunk points
the way west across the prairie.
Our mood is gay as we progress
across the parched land and
we anticipate only great things.
As we get up one morning I look ahead
at a broad expanse of nothing much
a lot of scrub and brush
“Can anything be that flat?” I ask.
“Yes” Hoss tells me,
“One day, this will be Kansas.”
Hoss has dressed as the Pope today
The mitred hat,
the carmine robe.
He loves the drag and thinks it keeps our spirits high.
The elephant’s trunk still points west.
The pope’s hat points to heaven.
Members of our party are
spread out before us.
We travel on elephants,
wagons and feet
and we go on.
©Kathryn Collins
Growth
I received a comment on this blog in my email this morning. A comment on a poem I had posted years ago. A nice comment, happily. I realized I had forgotten about this blog entirely. I do most of my posting, if any, on Facebook, and there I mostly post other artists work I admire. I have stopped writing about my work. I have slowed down doing any work. My depression has gotten the better of me and it has silenced me. So I decided to post this painting from a few years ago. I had to figure out how to use Blogger again. I hope this works. Maybe more to come. Must free myself.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
recent arrival
I have been scanning some images from my Studio Journal. I have kept one since art school. My Sophomore Studio teacher, Keith Morris Washington, mentioned it as a helpful tool). I also saw other students using one as well. At first I jotted color recipes in it, notes from class, lectures and critiques and quotes from readings I was doing at the time. I am still reading Bachelard's 'The Poetics of Space' and making notes. As time went on the journal became a repository for all sorts things, drawings, maps of paintings to be, ideas, color maps and collages and a place to put everything that seemed to be important to me.
Sometimes I will return to page over time and suddenly will see that something has arrived.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Alchemy & Inquiry: mostly Terry Winters
Went to New York this weekend to celebrate our nephew's graduation from High School. He survived!!!
Also saw my sister in the Bronx and we went to Wave Hill to see a wonderful exhibit with Philip Taafe, Fred Tomaselli, (drum roll, please) Terry Winters. Winters is one of my favorite artists. I could spend hours looking at his work.
The bottom image in this post is Terry Winters' Morula III (Gouache, graphite, ink on paper). It is a piece that wasn't in the show but I love it so there you go.
The work in the show was specific to Wave Hill which is a 28 acre public garden and cultural center overlooking the Hudson River and the Palisades. If you can get there go, fast.
The bottom image is Wave Hill (oil on paper mounted on composite board, 38 x 44 inches)
Each painter had a room to themselves in the Glyndor Gallery and had visited the gardens in the fall. Each of them chose a particular garden as a theme and went on from there.
Winters brief was the Herb, Dry and Alpine Garden and he had relief prints and paintings.
A wonderful show. I will write more about Tomaselli and possibly Taafe later. Too tired right now...
Monday, April 25, 2011
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
A new poem
Brothers
As Florencio awaits his magic rocket
Floyd Collins watches from 55 feet
beneath Kentucky
a broken electric bulb by his side.
The terracotta miners in China
lay on their sides in the cold dark
eyes wide, staring.
In Sugar Notch, PA
an ancient miner rubs at his tearing eyes,
and can see nothing.
The capsule rises,
it’s odd path
and oblique trajectory suggesting flight.
The miners know better.
This is an earth bound ascension, a
ripping from stone
of what has already been taken.
In Kentucky, Floyd Collins moans.
He reaches out to touch his
electric bulb, it is so cold.
He strains to hear the voice of the lone reporter.
He hears only air and space and stone.
Florencio rises, begins to lift.
There is a hush.
In Kentucky, Floyd looks at Florencio
"Brother", he whispers, through the rock
and the years,
"Florencio, you are our Christ to be reborn!
I, too, was once Christ in the Tomb".
In China, terracotta eyes turn
mutely following.
In Pennsylvania, a miner mouths broken
words falling, cracking,
the scratching dust dark.
Florencio Avalos
ascends to heaven
today
in Copiabo, Chile,
13 October,
2010.
©kathryncollins2011
Thursday, September 30, 2010
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