Shadows & Chivalry

23 March 2008, 6:23 PM
RCB, EAB

A wound remains.
Innumerable small kindnesses
press it. They cannot help but do so.
The wound is deep and long and wide,
had grown callous to insult and to injury.
Gentility rubs it raw again,
the opening of a door,
the offering of a hand, not of necessity,
nor of superiority or subservience,
but of respect and dignity
and cherishing of femininity overlooked
ignored or beaten down for so long.

The wound remains,
finds solace in your kind—
Fruit has kept such faith with Tree,
has loved me more than faithfully.
Forgive if I respond with tears and often see
my Shadows in your tenderness and chivalry.

Selling My Paintings

Well, today I took the leap. I have three paintings hanging in Solomon's Porch coffee shop in Wilmore, complete with pricetags. I knew I was nervous about this, but I didn't realize how nervous until last night. I got nearly no sleep last night. Granted that is at least partially due to the fact that I came down sick last night. But part of it was anxiety, pure and simple.

Why the anxiety? I pour a lot of myself into my paintings. There's no a single one that came from outside the Inner Sanctum. Most of my paintings are, in a sense, portraits- windows into self. So it's a little frightening to put them out there for others to see and critique.

Another anxiety producing aspect is pricing. It is NOT an easy thing to price one's own work. One price feels too high- who would pay that for a piece of art? Another feels too low- I'm particularly attached to this piece, I can't bear to see it go for that little.

And, of course, there's the very simple issue of wanting to know that others find my work worth their time, if not worth their money. I want to know that people look at it and experience something in themselves, and come away with something they didn't have before.

I took Mother Africa, Self Portrait in Red (Originally titled Seeing Red), and Phoenix, all of which can be seen on my other website, beautyofashes.com.Celebrate with me, and wish me well.

Feast or Famine

13 March 2008, 4:29 PM

More than anything I rest
in knowing that you’ll be home soon,
we’ll make dinner together,
and there will be time to sit and breathe
around a table made of both our dreams.
I love doing this with you, in feast or famine,
so even if the opportunities we seek
don’t come through, I’ll still look forward to Home
at the end of a day on my feet
working to make up for what we lack of necessity—
this will always be Paradise.

Opportunities

The more I paint and sculpt, the less I write, and vice versa. I note, however, that of late I haven't done much of either. I have, however, been pursuing venues for displaying my artwork, and not without success. Next week I'll have some paintings up in a coffee shop in Wilmore, and I may also soon have some paintings hanging in Euros, a new wine bar in Nicholasville. I'm very excited about the possibilities that are arising.

Forgiveness Vespers

9 March 2008, 7:35 PM

Forgive me,

this will never be easy.
I realize as I speak the words
there is no one to whom I may speak,
of my own volition,
forgiveness.

The one in whose debt I will always remain,
and who will always be indebted to me—
I cannot forgive him—
is an icon of fallenness, as am I,
whether or not he is capable of understanding.

How could he fail to know
when Paschal hymns ring through the Nave
and the mother of his son is not beside him,
nor would he have me there?
He is more whole for my absence, and I, for his.
That is nettle enough in both our sides
to steal the fullness of joy away,
that if we could have our way,
the other would not exist.

He is an icon, as am I— a picture
of the depth to which we fall in striving to mend
bridges we could not but tear asunder.
Futile the attempt— we cannot put right
what we could not help breaking.

We can only say “God forgives”—
only He can, only He does, only He has space
to pass or alleviate judgment.

God forgives.