Poetry Night - Harlem Renaissance

Tonight is poetry night with my wing gal. She read Claude McKay's "If We Must Die." I am doing Langston Hughes' "Militant."

Below is her poem.

If We Must Love

If we must love, let not the law decree
Nor society dictate with cruel glares
Which lover is fit for you or for me,
Or how we love in the moments we share.
If we must love, let us love without rules;
Let us love red, yellow, black or brown, white.
Let children not learn in small-minded schools
That two boys is "wrong," but boy and girl "right".
Oh Lovers! Go forth and love one or more
Man, woman, or one of each! Freely love!
If we cannot love, then what is life for?
Let love's limits be, when all's said and done,
Constrained only by imagination.

(c) hmh, 2007




Here is my Hughes-inspired poem:

Apartheid

Head and heart
disconnected
a world apart!

Emotions exist
and they are real
yet I resist!

A giant brick wall
between thought and feeling
my own personal hell!

And the sick sad thing is
I like it that way.
Without that wall
I might sob and bawl
letting go of the pain
and I might be free!

No control!
No restraint!
But then I could not write,
And then I could not paint!
And I would not be me!

(c) fprm, 2007

Life Ain't Too Shabby

Had a nice night yesterday:

Made NYC chocolate egg creams for my business class while they read each other's papers.

Hung out with a new friend into all hours of the night. My friend was gracious enough to bring some wonderful imported provolone and parmesian cheese and some sopressata (sic), cantalope balls, black and green olives, crackers. I supplied the wine (Wango Dango, a Jumilla from Spain...or is that redundant) and the vodka.

I also received a lovely lucky bamboo plant...which I now must try to keep alive. If I water it weekly, to coincide with my taking of my pills or my weekly phone call to Mom, I might be ok.

But overall, a very lovely evening with a thoughtful and loving lady...who also happens to be an alumnus of the same high school as me.

Next week, First Friday off of Lark Street. The day after, I go to NYC to meet another neat new friend.

Works in Progress

The Redhead in the Tropics



The Muse's Chair




The Philogynist...bookshelf is new.

Finished Products

Darth, inspired by the second part of the epic poem, "Antietam."




Writer's Block, finished a couple days ago.



The Half-Drunk Bourbon, finished a couple days ago, inspired by the poem.





Sunset, completed yesterday.

Tabula Rasa

Sitting securely in the easel is a four foot by two foot canvas...untouched, empty, devoid of any content...I bought it yesterday, thinking I might have a vision to lay upon it. Nothing. Or nothing which I feel competent painting.

One option i had was a still life of a liverwurst sandwich and a glass of beer (go with what I know!), but that seems too small a topic for such a decent-sized canvas.

Another option was to title whatever I painted "American Idyll," and do a pastoral scene...complete with animal, man and...well...the great outdoors. But I question my ability to pull it off.

So, a challenge.

A friend is coming to visit tonight,and perhaps her presence will inspire or catalyze a vision.

Or perhaps the music that I play as I paint might do the same.

Until then...

The Moon and Sixpence, Take Two

This past weekend, I just finished reading The Moon and Sixpence by William Somerset Maugham. It was the first time reading it in over 11 years. Again, I loved it.

One critique, however, is that the reader either needs to know the paintings of Paul Gauguin or take the word of the narrator that the works that Charles Strickland creates are brilliant. For some reason, even with a good writer like Maugham, the words cannot fully capture the greatness of the paintings. It is tough to write about something that must be visually absorbed.

The same thing could be said for a great sexual experience, an espresso, a cigar. Each of those appeals to senses and cannot thoroughly be captured in words.

So, The Moon and Sixpence is a great book, especially in its contrast between the greatness of the artist and the coldness of the man...even if lacking in sufficient descriptions of the paintings.

I'm Not There

Last night, I went to see the new Dylan "biopic" at the Spectrum Theatre.

What a fantastic film!

I do not know much about Bob Dylan's personal life, and this film does not necessarily help in that area. But what it does is focus on the issue of identity and the role that Dylan's numerous peronae play in his career.

What is most intriguing is how the film focuses, mostly through the brilliant portrayal of Dylan by Cate Blanchett, on Dylan's moving away from the folk scene into electric and other forms of music, the betrayal that many fans felt about this departure from folk and the frustration that the artist has in moving on or moving forward.

My favorite Dylan album is "Bringing It All Back Home." My favorite song on that album is..."She Belongs To Me"...as it has been for 15 years. Of course, when I hear that song now, I think of my future ex-wife, mother of my child, and my friend, Lisa.