Showing posts with label artwork. Show all posts
Showing posts with label artwork. Show all posts

Saturday, January 8, 2022

Saturday Haiku: Snowstorm


lone pilgrim walking
in a hindrance of snowfall
bare branches swaying



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Image: "Central Park Snowstorm"
(This painting by Tony Bennett was for the American Cancer Society Christmas Card for 2013)



*Last August, the legendary Tony Bennett announced his retirement from performing at the age of 95. His career has spanned eight decades. Famous for his singing career, he has also had a passion for painting. Today's post is part of a series of haiku inspired by Mr. Bennett's artwork (when he paints, he uses his given name, Antony Benedetto).




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Sunday, October 10, 2021

Tony Bennett and Me

No, I do not know Tony Bennett, but I have enjoyed his music from time to time over the years. When I found out he was also an artist with quite a portfolio of paintings to his credit, I was inspired to use a couple of his paintings as touchstones from which to write haiku. That was back in 2015.

On my blog, I write a new haiku every Saturday. When I heard about Tony Bennett’s retirement from performing at the age of 95, I took it upon myself to expand my tribute and do a series of haiku using more of his paintings.  Listed below are the haiku I have written that were inspired by Mr. Bennett’s art: 

 


And by the way, here are some songs by Tong Bennett that I’ve posted in the past:


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Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Crafting, the Cross, and Holy Week

On the day after Palm Sunday, I made some palm leaf crosses similar to the ones pictured here (I got the pic from Sermon on the Sidewalk blog). I went online and found a great YouTube guide for making them, as I had done last year. 

In the past, I found it to be a good remembrance of Holy Week and its message, as I kept the cross in the car throughout the year. This year, I made the crosses because I had to do something with my hands to calm the emotions I was feeling and to put my thoughts into perspective.

You see, the Palm Sunday service did an unexpected number on me. I don’t know why I say “unexpected” because Palm Sunday usually has a profound effect on me in some way. This year, though, I thought it would be different because I have not been especially attuned to the season until this week. Sometimes the beauty of church liturgy, whatever the season, is that it is there when you want to truly engage, but if you are not up for deep engagement, you can still take part in the rhythm of the service in a lighter, more peripheral manner. I thought this year would be one of those peripheral participations.

The Liturgy Drew Me In

So we processed into the church with palm branches, participated in a liturgical reading of the passion narrative from the Gospel of Matthew,  heard a brief homily, celebrated the Eucharist, and it was all very nice. I didn’t get all emotionally caught up in the rejoicing stage or in the “crucify him!” moment. It was all nice and pat. Then came the closing hymn, “Were You There?”

“Were You There?” has long been a powerful and moving song for me. It is one of those Negro Spirituals that has made its into many hymnals, Catholic and Protestant alike. It was not the first time I have had mixed emotions about Negro Spirituals, often noting their simple beauty that arose from such hardship. 

During Sunday's service, however, I glanced down at the bottom of the page and read the source of the song which was listed as from “Old Plantation Hymns.” The loaded term, plantation, was just too much to keep me on the periphery. I could not help thinking of the hardship inflicted upon the slaves by the plantation owners. I could not help thinking that when the slaves sang, “Were you there when they crucified my Lord?” they actually were there. They were there in a way that neither the plantation owners then  nor nice church people now  could realize. 

The institution of slavery was oppressing and “crucifying” people, not for our salvation, but so that they could have a bowl of sugar on their table, abundant crops in the field, and money in their coffers. How often does our society still oppress or take advantage of workers just so we can have goods in the market and food on the table? “Sometimes, it causes me to tremble…” 

Craft Time

I had to get still and quiet Sunday night after the service. I couldn’t just shake it off; I had to dwell with it for a while. Then with a new day come Monday, I needed another routine to put me into a productive rhythm. I knew if I let the morning be “craft time” the use of my hands to make things would get me grounded again. 

The other thing that helped my perspective was having just seen the BBC documentary, “How Art Made theWorld.” In one episode, it was pointed out how cultures around the world had used art to come to terms with people’s awareness that we will all face death. Many cultures have incorporated religious art that acknowledges death. One of the things that art can do is to find an object that acknowledges death and at the same time provides comfort and hope. The Christian cross was given as an example of such a symbol.

So I busied my hands, steadied myself, and practiced an age-old art form whereby I could come to terms with death and celebrate life at the same time. There was also the factor that this was a fun thing to do, like so many projects we did as children. There is still the reality of suffering and death, but a little bit of art can give us courage to live. A day of crafts can give us a steady hand to work for change in the future. 



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Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Poetry Arising from Art

Ekphrastic Poetry and the Masterworks Series

Ekphrastic poetry is poetry written in response to some work of art. That art is usually a painting or a sculpture, but it can also be a photograph. I have written ekphrastic poetry on this blog, usually in my Saturday Haiku series, when I found myself inspired by a work of art, as in The Gleize Bridge over the Vigueirat Canal. Another example was of poetry in response to art was Reflecting upon Michelangelo's Pieta.

Ekphrasis is a Greek term usually translated as "description." Ekphrastic poetry is an exercise that goes beyond mere description. It is an example of art inspiring art, or serving as a catalyst for creativity. An article at Poets.org, Ekphrasis: Poetry Confronting Art speaks of how ekphrasis has been used in poetry since the time of Homer. The article observes that "modern ekphrastic poems have generally shrugged off antiquity’s obsession with elaborate description, and instead have tried to interpret, inhabit, confront, and speak to their subjects." Ekphrastic poetry is one way to interpret, meditate upon, re-invent, or dialogue with a particular piece of art.

Earlier this year, I stumbled upon a small treasure for creative inspiration. I was at the local library's annual book sale. I already have too many books acquired from various places, but I cannot resist a good book sale. What I found that day was an old Book-of-the-Month Club selection, Portfolio of Art Masterpieces, Series IV. It consisted of twelve reproductions of masterpiece paintings. Each reproduction is mounted on heavy paper with a brief description of the artist and the artwork. The separate pieces are housed together in a heavy 11 X 14 box, tied with a heavy ribbon. The box itself was collapsing at the corners, but all of the reproductions were intact. I knew right away how I could make use of the art reproductions – I would use them as starting points for ekphrastic poems. My plan would be to spend some time visualizing and dwelling with each work of art, then write a poem based upon that experience of "dwelling with" the painting.

That is how this "Masterworks Series" began. As a discipline to give myself an appointed task to write poetry, I am setting out to do a weekly installment of ekphrastic poetry based upon the art masterpieces that fell into my hands that day at the public library book sale. Tomorrow will be the first installment with "The Arrival in Bethlehem."



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Friday, September 28, 2012

Finding William Blake, 1983





An Unread Book

Who would have guessed, or ever
Imagined what treasure
Lay in the antique bookshop in Chelsea, England?
Long after my fascination had been firmly
Ingrained in my soul –
And though my mind was not on the poet that day –
My steps must have been guided.

Book lover that I am, the crowded shelves drew me in.
Leather bound and one hundred years old,
Almost like new, it must have been unread.
Kindred spirit, his words spoke of infinite beauty seen in
Every grain of sand.

2002                                                 Charles Kinnaird


[Artwork credit: “Christ in the Sepulchre, Guarded by Angels,”  by William Blake
Public Domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons]