A Purpose of Art
I do not need to be co-creater in order to be an active participant in an artwork. I do not believe for a moment that the act of listening is passive. I believe more of us would be better at it if it were.
On Ruminating
But then there is that other idea: that artworks are ennobling. When biographical facts color and contextualize the experience that is being conveyed through a work of art in a way that is exceedingly human, but not ennobling, do we toss the bibliographical context (and does that falsify the content?). Or do we toss the work of art?
The Wisdom of Old Men, And
After a glass of wine, my inner critic no longer tells me I need to get the answers right.
After a glass of wine, she actually sounds a lot like Dorothy Parker - 'cause when she's tipsy she sides with me, and turns on everyone else.
Poets Who Get Lonely
I am the imaginative version of Emilie Dickinson - shouting from the top of the stairs. Genuinely happy for any company, desperately suspicious. Scared.
At the Heart of the Cliché
When I think of this morning, it is never about eating the oatmeal. It's about the sensual details of a single moment, of an average morning. The heat on my face, the light weight of the spoon pressing against the burping mass. It's what oatmeal means to me.
Winter’s Syncopation
I guess things don't always come as cleanly as the seasons on the calendar. The goddesses keep their own schedules. Rhythms. Deliberately syncopated.
