A Dance Among Lovers
distances far and wide between
voices blur in and out of focus
waiting to the beat of a butterfly wing
an ocean of infinite scapes
the lights flicker and dim with knowing
for the opening act lingers on far too long
starving for warmth
in a blackness 8 hours wide
restlessly tossing a wave upon the shore
back and forth
back and forth
then sundown greets an
before intermission parts this play
to find blushing lips
that part into smiles
while the tango takes the stage
the music cues
releasing particle by particle
slowly fading into the clouds
if even for one soft moment
before feet finally touch the ground
soon the clock sounds
out to midnight
as two goldfish twist
each swimming to the right
for 5 days time brings another number
the next curtain call
of a dance among lovers
Behind the Scenes of a Conceptual Photograph
It was one of those moments when I received an email asking to accompany friends to the Hirshhorn Museum for a lecture on Man Ray’s surrealist films. Forgetting that there is a mecca of art literally right across the street in our Nation’s Capitol, I agreed. After all, I’ve been a fan of Surrealism for as long as I can remember scouring through works of Magritte, Dali and Breton. One of my favorite museums to visit when I was a kid in Houston was The Menil, for it housed one of the largest collections of Magritte paintings. I would get lost in canvases of clouds and the simplicity of the subject matter mixed with the complexity of the subconscious mind.
Mom would often have little craft projects around the house she would engage in like painting wooden bears or creating amazing floral arrangements out of dried magnolia flowers. I would often take some of those wooden blocks, courtesy of the local Hobby Lobby, and turn them into my own little wonders…you know, the creations of teenage melancholy mind, circa 1995. I had an obsession with apples back then and even proceeded to paint one in every single artistic movement of the early 20th century. But I digress..
I left the Man Ray lecture, learning of another event on Surrealist Poetry, a little perplexed and full of wish as I pondered on all the things I used to do but since have ceased as life proceeded to get in the way. Back to my teenage self, I wrote poetry all day long. Everything from the parent hating variety (sorry – I know I’ve already apologized many times) to the typical hormonal induced kind brought on by first loves and first heartaches.
So I came home determined. And with this image in mind, created on of the many black beaches of Iceland with the lovely Mia whipping out her amazing dance moves for me once again. I suppose it’s never too late.
For those of you asking what the heck surrealism is…in it’s simplest definition, surrealism is the literary and artistic movement of the 1900s that attempted to express the workings of the subconscious and is characterized by fantastic imagery and incongruous juxtaposition of subject matter. More often than not it focuses on the subconscious mind pertaining to that of the dream world. Sur-reality. I suppose to some extent, dreams are the reality we create within our own minds. Who’s to say it wasn’t real just because it happened once upon a dream.
Anyhow, don’t judge me (or judge me) for the poetry of a much older self. I still reflect back on that teenager. Sometimes it feels like yesterday and other times, a lifetime ago. I’d like to think my experiences over the last couple of decades have created a sense of maturity in my thought patterns. But there is still that part of me that still swims in circles. Even now.
The perfect backdrop for the Surrealist mind.
One of my favorite people, Delphine Millet, setting up for her art.
And another lovely friend, Rebeca Cygnus heading off to explore the corners for her next concept.
Thank you, Mia, for giving one hundred percent to all of us as we developed our ideas on an infinite horizon.