art, general, Poetry, reflection, writing

The Eyes of Writers & Artists

Finding a subject to write about comes from the many different things that we look at. It is the seeing what we look at and putting it into words that that makes us writers; like an artist sees objects differently than those who are not artists. They see the greens, yellows, pinks, and blues in a tree trunk where the average person may see only a brown tree trunk.

During a recent writing group session Maggie Chalifoux brought in a couple of her abstract paintings and we all wrote very different responses to them. Our various responses came from seeing the same painting but bringing our own experiences and inner thoughts to the writing piece. This is the poem I wrote to explain what I saw.

Life Magic Through My Eyes
(inspired by a Maggie Chalifoux abstract painting)

As the mist rises up
droplets float down
the world responds
with motion and life
as seasons change

one feeding the other
waters lap the shore
birthing trees and greenery
creating movement
of days into night

wrapping the earth like
Mother Nature’s loving arms.
Arlene S. Bice ©2013

*** I recently received notice of the new website listed here of a long-time friend, Jyoti Wind, who is an experienced astrologer, shaman, published writing leader and homeopathic consultant. Please check out her website if any of these subjects appeals to you. www.jyotiwindastrology.com

art, Poetry, Uncategorized

I Came Upon This Door

Our recent program “A Gathering of Artists & Poets” was a huge success with 59 people in attendance. This is one of my paintings with poem to compliment it. Please enjoy.

DSCF2714i

I Came Upon This Door

When roaming a medieval town
I came upon this door,
by accident, I thought
tucked into
a hidden lane
a short distance away,
it summoned me
come closer, enter after knocking

I remembered it, but how? I have never been here before

The lamp bid me as welcome
as a candle in a window
it felt familiar
as I paused
letting my senses
respond,
to warn or
to comfort I did not know.

But I felt I had been here before, a long, long time ago.

The knocker beckoned
my hand to grasp
let it fall,
send echoes
down the hall
of stone
cold
secretive, empty

with stories to tell of other times amidst this forgotten pall

As memories came to mind
visions of men, women
revealed to me,
I wondered
what string or crumbs
brought me here
to revive
those stories of long ago

of those folks, kindred who must not be left, thoughtlessly, behind

Arlene S. Bice, © 2013

art, general, movies

The Art of Klimpt & More

 

ImageAnything that mentions Gustav Klimpt catches my attention. From there I follow the thread from one thing to another, then find a movie and go there to  learn more. This time the movie was about Alma Mahler Gropius Werfel (nee Schindler) who I believe was related to Klimpt. Her story enraptured me.

The Bride of the Wind is that movie and I have enjoyed viewing it several times over the years. Each time I watch it, I see something I haven’t noticed before. To me, that’s a sign of a really good movie.

It’s a true story set in Victorian Vienna, the city that inspired many great artists of music, architecture, fine art, and literature. It also inspired Alma as she later in life became the famous composer she dreamed of when she was young, but not allowed to be,

Jonathan Pryce plays the role of her first husband, the famous Viennese composer Gustav Mahler. His compositions are still recorded and played today. The ruggedly handsome Vincent Perez plays the role of Oskar Kokaschka, painter of the real Bride of the Wind with his usual intense presence. Oskar’s painting is full of passion, in all blues, very different from the one shown here on the cover of the DVD, which is presented in the style of Klimpt. Seeing Perez in this movie led me to buy another of his films, Swept from the Sea. The thread goes on.

art, Poetry, women

The Kiss of Gustav Klimpt

Image

The painting draws my attention

like a casual stroller at the lower left hand

corner of the local garden.

The softly draped yellows and flecks of color

falling from their shoulders,

while kneeling, down to their feet

where hers are bound by ropes of gold,

making her flight impossible.

My eyes gaze upward to the fold of their robes

blending in, one with the other,

then I notice her face turned away

from his kiss placed so tenderly

on her cheek.

Boredom is her expression;

being

the adored one,

lonely,

no passion there.

His hands cup her face,

gently,

his neck bends

to kiss

his beloved.

Her arm circles

his shoulder,

hanging on

while the other

pushes him away.

Stars are in her hair

adornment,

reflecting

the absence of

stars in her eyes.    © Arlene S. Bice, 2008