Poet Marilyn Hazelton has compiled the poems written by artists and the public at the "Velocity" show closing in June. She requested that they be posted here. Thanks to Marilyn for leading us through a great creative exercise, and thanks to those who participated. Enjoy!
From Marilyn:
A Meditation on Writing from Art
To walk into a gallery, allow a work of art to extend an invitation, accept, and begin to interact with that painting, sculpture, or entire room adds an unusual layer to the art process and becomes it’s own form of art.
Artists and family and friends of artists added that artistic effort to the opening and closing receptions for “Velocity”, the Chen Art Group’s summer show at the Allentown Art Museum.
The resulting poems reflect the viewers’ visual responses and perceptions, as well as memories and reflections, evoked by the art.
The Poems:
Many thanks to Susan Weaver and Marilyn Hazelton for co-hosting the writing event at the Closing Reception of “Velocity”, to Wilhelm Schmidt for his assistance in typing many of the writings below, and to all who participated.
for the Chen Arts Show
Human murmurs, conversations
The walls stand quiet, waiting for attention.
“Hear us” the works say
“Interact with us.
Enter into relationship.”
Silent they wait as we turn to face them.
Georgine MillerBalancing Act
After "Coffee Cups 5" by Glenn Lash
Glaze shimmers
on that twist
of dough
dunked forever
in a turquoise mug.
Above,
a clattering cup
tips a splash
of joe.
A doughnut
draws my gaze—
circled with an eternity
of chocolate icing.
It wears an upturned cup
like a
teetering top hat.
Poised on its lid,
a potter's spiraling
vortex,
dizzying
as a sugar rush.
I drink to this
off-kilter
totem
to hedonism
and that
all-American
institution ...
the coffee break.
Susan WeaverMemories from the front line.
Inspired by Lee Leckey’s painting “Center Front”
Veil concealing ghosts of recent past.
Center, drive, round and round, crosses, lines.
How did they begin,
Forms, fields, patches, life?
Penetrating, one by one,
Repeating actions memorized.
Waning, waxing, taking center front, interrupted,
Memories run off.
Leading, one by one,
Eyes toward unpredictable future.
One by one,
Circles, ground, sky.
Rafael J. Cañizares-Yunez
Glimpses and Reminiscences I see my salvation walking towards the enemy
Waiting to strike in the name of God
Although the enemy is the devil, he has taken a deceiving look
In the eyes of a peaceful soldier, the deadly swan is the worst enemy
But, in the eyes of a human, it is just a swan
In between the rivals is the sign of Jesus’ mother
Who is defending the rights of all human race
Kamilah VelezFor “3 Piece Man”
a sculpture by Heather Haas
Tripartite -
arc and trough
of skin and bone,
the negative space
carries weight, emotion,
defines life
thinly suspended
by a rod of steely resolve.
We are often cut thus.
Perhaps this stark white shell
is a cocoon
already shed,
the true self
transformed.
Ann Corbett Burke
Alley in Autumn
After "Emmett Street, Allentown" by Joseph Skrapits
Narrow houses crowd Emmett Street
like neighbors talking
over the back fence
before winter closes in.
To a wall of aqua blue
the phone pole's shadow,
a compass needle,
points up the alley,
collects my eye
from its
distraction
by a swath of fence
painted persimmon
in afternoon sun.
An oak tree waits
for wind to drift leaves
and open a view
skyward
past peaked roofs
that will change beyond return
this half-street moment,
this autumn brilliance
captured
on the artist's canvas.
Susan Weaverfor “Emmett Street” by Joe Skrapits
Florence! Oh skip it
And all the cousins would laugh
The headless house man
or
no more peanuts please
Bill Villa“Surf’s Up” for a sculpture by Wilhelm Schmidt
Roots soaring
after the storm,
wings of wood swirl
upward from the vortex.
Enchanted,
I see a hole
nearly hidden:
the eye
of dark disturbance,
an epicenter
from which is flung
pure joy.
Ann Corbett Burke
Surf’s Up
for a sculpture by Wilhelm Schmidt
Wild whorl wings
Movement caught trembling
Windblown
In polished wood
Shape glanced sidelong
Eye seizing
Grappling
Almost
Fleeting
Gone
Paul BlaneyZero Gravity
For “Escape Velocity” by Sereno Jacob
Shivering, thunderous metal plates
Meet the Stratosphere.
In only moments sky will be gone.
Free of ground.
Free of air.
A blank page, as black as all nights.
A chance to start new.Anonymous
For “Hyper View” by Rick Hildenbardt
You are wild you are free
You herd together for life support
Your life is carved from the land
Along comes man
And you are now only a memory
Carved in wood on a wall
Anonymousor “Cotterman’s Tornado” by Ryan FultonA naked boy quietly contemplating the stars
Gazing toward the heavens
+ knowing that they’re ours
Peering eyes, fixed on the skies
Before the Mexican temple
At home + at peace
Sarah Fulton
For “Untitled Cow Drawing” by Greg Weaver
Just A Few Squiggles
Comical simple tail to head drawing
A squiggly cow, makes you join smiling
Across the meadow frolicking
On a lark, just sailing
Ears and tail compelling
Care-free romp tale-telling
Heard from stories trailing
Cathy BotchSolace
for” Solastaglia”
Button dropped, and then again found
Now contained, still, no sound
Worn with pride, in a far off place
Released from threads, hanging in space
Newly used, in the past for closure,
Semi-revealed, a partial exposure
Once held in fingers, young and old
Suddenly art, impossible to hold
We live, we pass, but once we come through
In art, as in life, we are created anew
Graham Lustigfor “Shy Geoff” by Yodi
Splatters and squiggles of paint
Fly like confetti in a parade
Or streamers at a childhood celebration
As Geoffrey watches Yodi
Play with paper
Angie Villafor “The Patriot Act” by Georgina Miller
Forlorn expression looking back
The eyes must say what the mouth can’t
Face recessed in white and red
While blue muzzles what is said
Zehra Follweilerfor” Marley’s Trail”
Beauty is all around us
In nature
In animals
In creativity
Beauty created by God
Dog hike. Straight trees and
Flowing blades of grass. Get lost
On the path, enjoy the journey
AnonymousLake Erie Sunset
For a photograph by Jeff Williams of the same name
Fingers
of ice
and fire
reach for light,
like a hand rising
into the play of winter.
Beyond this,
beyond
other eruptions
between sheets
of frozen beach,
a slim slice
of water
borders
ice peaks
rising and falling
in conversation
with God
disguised
as sky.
Marilyn Hazelton
