the poet’s paletteMany artists find that exploring more than one form of art enriches their work in a profound and rewarding way. Inthis article some of our artists explain their thoughts on the relationship between poetry and visual art in their livesand creations, and present an example of artwork which is connected to poetry they have written.Contributing Artists: Elisabeth Guerrier, FLORA, Jeff Jackson, Kristo, Luisine Breitscheidel, Tyice Natasha and John NiemanThe artist and the poet are certainlysimilar manifestations of the sameneed to express their views of the worldand everything in ways untypical of themajority of people. This is not to saythat the person who doesn’t draw, paint,sculpt, compose music or verse doesn’tsee the beauty or ugliness of the worldas artists and poets do, but rather theyexpress it in more prosaic ways. Perceptionand honesty aren’t the issue here,but rather style.It should come as no surprise that mostplastic medium artists are pretty goodwordsmiths, either in prose or poetry.And it is a pleasant irony that the reverseis not generally true. Why this phenomenonexists is a difficult subject on whichto speculate. My coarse, personal opinionis that poetry is a far easier mediumto create than artwork. No doubt manyirate poets will politely disagree, someperhaps even in verse, and converselymost artists will agree. But, it reallydoesn’t matter, does it?When I first started writing verse (almostone year ago) I did so because of theneed to express myself to a woman insuch a way I could not in either proseor a painting, despite the fact that shewas abundantly aware of my attempts todo so in those other media. I found thatthere is a tone, color, lilt and an art to thelanguage of verse that doesn’t exist inany other way except singing. And sincemy voice resembles that of a croakingfrog rather than an earnest friend, expressingmyself in verse became theonly alternative. Silence was also theonly other available option and I assureyou I attempted it before finally giving in56 <strong>ARTisSpectrum</strong>to penning verse. (Note: As a matter ofhistorical fact the verse had little ultimateeffect on the intended victim.)At any rate I was astonished, both thenand now, how easily and naturally writingverse came to me. Prior to attempting towrite verse I had always assumed doingso was a laborious, involved, almost tortuousexercise involving “writer’s block”in the extreme and wastebaskets full ofballs of wadded up paper thrown by frustratedand disgusted amateur scribblers.The fact that I discovered that it waseasy to do, like so many things in life, encouragedme to really start cranking outthe stuff at an alarming rate. And sinceit is the destiny and indeed as Freudput it, the ambition, of all male artists toproduce their work only as a means ofgaining “… the approbation of beautifulwomen…” the stuff came gushing out.The specific source of my verse is directlyrelated to my artwork in the most obviousof ways. Since I draw and paint thefemale figure, always from live models,my opportunities to gain their approbationare frequent, compelling and thoughoften frustrating they are nonethelessavailable and tempting. To speak to abeautiful woman in verse does on occasionhave the desired effect. It indeedacts as a catalyst and even a fuel to thefire at its most elemental level. It perpetuatesitself and it affords me a means ofexpression that relieves the more graphicaltechniques, the forbearance of whichcan become tedious.Poetry writing also engenders other benefitsto expression that making artworkdoes not. As a practical matter it’s lessexpensive, less time consuming, lessmessy, requires smaller pieces of paperand only a pen or a pencil. It usuallygives off no noxious smells unlessthe poem is a truly maudlin stinker. Unlikea drawing or a painting, writing verseleaves behind no bulky artifact or otherwiseannoying physical result. There’sno need for frames or wall space, justa computer file or the quiet and discreetpages of an infrequently opened book.Cookbooks have turned out to be thebest filing system to date.I would encourage all artists to attemptto write verse. Why? Because writingverse will give them a welcome respitefrom their compunctions to expressthemselves in paintings or sculptures.God knows that will come in handy. Ialso believe writing verse also sharpensone’s view of the world. Plus, if done reasonablywell, it’s fun.Lastly, verse by artists leaves behind averbal record of the artist’s perceptionsof the world in a form that may be moreunderstandable to those who view it thanartwork alone. I have yet to compose apoem that, unlike drawings, cannot beappreciated by even the dullest wit. Andif this is not universally true, I can alwaysrely on a painting or a drawing to carrymy message to the less literate. In short,two heads are better than one.Written By: Jeff Jackson
John Nieman“Words are only painted fire. A look is the fire itself.” Mark TwainFrom a sparse palette of three primary colors, 26 letters of the alphabet and seven musical notes, we persist in arranging them,mixing them, spinning them, shading and layering them in ways that are infinitely surprising and fresh. Sometimes, the resultsare heroic. Sometimes, jarring. Usually, they are personal and often illuminating. You’d think by now we would have run out ofoptions. I sometimes believe it’s a miracle. And indeed it is: the miracle of human creativity.If only in that respect, I have always considered art and words (and music) as kindred spirits; in the case of the poem and paintingin this article, I cannot even remember which came first. At their best, all of these pursuits help us feel something that isotherwise not so apparent to the naked mind.“Ask not.”“I have a dream.”“Play it, Sam.”“It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.”“What light through yonder window breaks?”“Who’s on first?”“Somewhere over the rainbow.”“Old soldiers never die.”“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”“Either the drapes go, or I do.”All of these words conjur an image, a time and place, and above all, an emotion. They exercise the brain. They connect us toa larger humanity and somehow expand our consciousness of the real world around us.It’s all art. It’s all good. It’s all food for the soul, the spirit and the indefatigable,constantly curious human imagination.Very Old StarsThe glory days are faded.The rust has taken hold.There’s a residue of magic,But these stars are very old.They are fixtures of an epoch,Of another time and place.And yet, their Technicolor beamRefuses to eraseThose glints and flints of bygone days.Their flickers late at night.Still give these antique superstarsAn incessant, effervescent, incandescent light.57 <strong>ARTisSpectrum</strong>
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