Recently, my daughter, Mira, and I attended the opening of The Language of Art, my first group show at Edgewater Gallery in Middlebury, VT. The opening was fantastic. The gallery collaborated with a local group of writers, the Spring Street Poets, by having this talented group create original work in response to different paintings in the show. The other artists in the show are: Holly Friesen, Robert O’Brien, Victoria Blewer, Margaret Gerding, and Liz Hoag. I’ve included images and text of the poets who wrote about my work here. It was quite a moving experience to hear the poets’ thoughtful responses to the different paintings.
Mary Pratt reads Birds on Wires, her lovely riff on my painting Treble Clef (on the wall behind her).
Birds on Wires
After making music for hours—
practicing the piano,
singing with a chorus—
I can see tunes even when
I close my eyes—
black notes on thin lines,
alphabet of melody.
I’m teaching my grandson
to see the patterns:
Look! I tell him,
those dots all in a line
are the same
sound. Shall we
sing it?He is so
young that learning
is not a chore.
He looks and laughs.
Later, when I see birds
on wires, I can’t help
but hum the score.
—Mary Pratt
Ray Hudson reads View from a Bus, a poem about moving on, inspired by my painting Soft Landing (on the wall beside him). .
View from a Bus
It’s a three-day holiday and when you get back
you’ll notice I’ve done the dishes
and vacuumed the living room. You’re good
at making deductions. I left the Aran sweater,
one of the matched pair your mother gave us,
somewhere in the bedroom. I took
two red stones and my favorite cup. Outside
thirteen birds ascend with predictability
into a sky mirrored in steel or mica or tinsel
and mud. They pause in midflight, proof
of what the unencumbered eye can do, can break free,
rest in mid air, on the thin wire that carries
the voices of parents and lovers, those pre-recorded
solicitations. Soft landings are still landings.
—Ray Hudson
Kari Hansen reads Stay a Little Longer next to my painting with the same title. I love how her poem really inhabits the painting.
.
Stay a Little Longer
I want the birds to stay
I want the sun to stay
I want the clouds to stay
I want the blue to stay
I want the day to stay
I am a fiend of wanting.
This moment, this should stay.
Those moments.
The hurl of a goodbye, the final
page, the end of you,
of us, of living, of moving,
of feeling full.
Empty hands. Empty heat.
That’s when the me in me
might become dismal.
But, I am willing to stand aside,
choose my reactions.
Be willing to alter my perceptions.
Become nonjudgmental.
Buddha-like.
Elevate.
I await enlightenment…
Who am I kidding?
—Kari Hansen