my elsie project has no time line, no real structure or end-date or expectation other than to know her shadows. the portraits are hard if i try to force them and so i allow her to show up when she wants. this way, the portraits move fast, furious, fiery, and with an intense sadness too. but also appreciation. also play. and while i work on these, sporadic and unexpected as it is, i also write about what it's like to make these portraits.
this is an excerpt from that collection- your poem for the day:
a bell peals the hour-
a ringing cupid
hung low.
a cup for the well-kept.
this cup is not for you.
your floor is covered in holes.
mice and the smell of them.
a sour mattress shared and dinner forgotten.
hard crusts and whiskers
in the sink. the horrible thing
that whispers in the morning.
eyes creaking, breaking hinges,
and mama still sleeping.
the bell goes on pealing.
you better run.
run run, little one.
run
run
pretty pretty
peeling peeling
2 comments:
This poem is ike a painting, Angela, scattered images thrown together, the rumble of someone's - most likely a child's - internal world.
Its beautiful and Elsie comes to life.
thanks, elisabeth!
i have no idea where this project will go or what it will turn in to but i think of the poems and paintings as being the exact same thing. it's encouraging to know that they function like that for another person and isn't merely my wish for the project to be seen that way. :)
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