Tag Archives: surrealism

Letters to Dead Artists – Weekly Round Up…A-Z Challenge

Well, like anyone who is taking part in the A to Z April Blogging Challenge, there’s a real sense of relief when you’ve made it through another week and you’re still on track. Indeed, I thought it deserve a swing from the chandelier, which is why I’m currently looking like Monet’s portrait of his beloved Camille on her deathbed mummified head to toe in plaster. Why didn’t Sia warn that swinging from the chandelier can lead to broken bones? We should all wrap ourselves up in bubble wrap and just stay put on terra firma.

I was trying to think about which week we were up to because this whole insane experience of trying to research and write to 26 dead artists in a month is totally insane, especially when it usually takes me that long just to work out the list and decide who to write to. It seems that procrastination is a luxury on this challenge and a decision, any decision, is better than getting behind schedule.

Although I decided to limit myself to one artist per letter this year, I did add a detour in this weekend. That was to visit Monet’s Garden. I’d realized that most of the artists I’d chosen were fairly intense, and so I thought we’d go and spend a day at Giverny with Monet among his water lilies and flowers and given the peaceful serenity in his paintings, I thought Monet would be a fairly chilled character, and was completely unprepared for the heartbreak he endured and extreme poverty in his early days as an artist, not to mention the ridicule he received as an Impressionist. So, as it turned out, spending time with Monet, wasn’t just a walk in the park.

Here are my posts for this week:

N- Sidney Nolan

O- Georgia O’Keeffe

P- Pablo Picasso

Q- Queenie McKenzie

R-Auguste Rodin

S-Salvador Dali

Why We need Monet’s Garden

Monet’s Greatest Work.

Here are the links to previous weeks’ letters:

Here’s a link to last week’s letters:

A- Alexandros of Antioch

B- Sandro Botticelli

C- Grace Cossington Smith

D-Edgar Degas

E- Eileen Agar

F- Frederick McCubbin

G- Vincent Van Gogh

H- Hans Heysen

I- Isabel Bishop

J- Jackson Pollock

K- Wassily Kandinsky

L: Norman Lindsay

M- Edvard Munch

How are you finding the A-Z either as a participant, reader or both? Hope it’s going well.

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

S- Salvador Dali- Letters to Dead Artists…A-Z Challenge.

Welcome back to Letters to Dead Artists, my theme for the 2018 Blogging A-Z April Challenge. Today, I’ll be writing to creative powerhouse, Salvador Dali (1904 -1989) and focusing on his most recognizable work: The Persistence of Memory, which will be accompanied by the theme song from Ghostbusters. While on first impressions, this would seem an unlikely combination, Salvador Dali or indeed the manifestations of any of his works, would definitely be classed as “something strange in your neighbourhood”!!

“One day it will have to be officially admitted that what we have christened reality is an even greater illusion than the world of dreams.”

-Salvador Dali

To provide a brief biographical sketch, Salvador Dali was born in 1904 in Figueres, Catalonia, Spain. When he was 16, he lost his mother to breast cancer, which was according to him: “the greatest blow I had experienced in my life”. In 1922, Dalí moved into the Residencia de Estudiantes (Students’ Residence) in Madrid and studied at the Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando. Dalí already drew attention as an eccentric and dandy. He had long hair and sideburns, coat, stockings, and knee-breeches in the style of English aesthetes of the late 19th century.  In 1924, French writer, Andre Breton, published his Manifesto of Surrealism, which influenced artists and writers alike. In 1926, Dali visited Pablo Picasso in Paris and found inspiration in what the cubists were doing. Picasso had already heard favorable reports about Dalí from Joan Miró, a fellow Catalan who introduced him to many Surrealist friends. As he developed his own style over the next few years, Dalí made a number of works heavily influenced by Picasso and Miró. Consequently, Dali was influenced by Freudian theory and began studying the psychoanalytical concepts of Freud and metaphysical painters like Giorgio Chrico and surrealists like Miro, and using psychoanalytic methods to generate imagery. Indeed, Salvador Dalí frequently described his paintings as “hand painted dream photographs.” In 1929, Dalí collaborated with surrealist film director Luis Buñuel on the short film Un Chien Andalou (An Andalusian Dog). His main contribution was to help Buñuel write the script for the film. Dalí later claimed to have also played a significant role in the filming of the project, but this is not substantiated by contemporary accounts.] Also, in August 1929, Dalí met his lifelong and primary muse, inspiration, and future wife Gala, born Elena Ivanovna Diakonova. She was a Russian immigrant ten years his senior, who at that time was married to surrealist poet Paul Éluard. In the same year, Dalí had important professional exhibitions and officially joined the Surrealist group in the Montparnasse quarter of Paris. His work had already been heavily influenced by surrealism for two years. The Surrealists hailed what Dalí called his paranoiac-critical method of accessing the subconscious for greater artistic creativity. 2.

“Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision.”

Salvador Dali.

However, in the 1930s Dali transformed from a key figure in the Surrealist movement, into its enemy when he was nearly expelled after a “trial” in 1934. His dismissal was due to his apolitical stance, his personal feud with leader Andre Breton, and his public antics. In July 1936, the Spanish Civil War started and Dali and his wife remained in Paris, where he continued evolving his artistic style. He was heavily influenced by the psychoanalysis of Sigmund Freud, whom Dali met in 1938. In 1939 Andre Breton definitively expelled Dali from Surrealism.3.

“Progressive art can assist people to learn not only about the objective forces at work in the society in which they live, but also about the intensely social character of their interior lives. Ultimately, it can propel people toward social emancipation.”

Salvador Dali

In 1980, Dalí was forced to retire from painting due to a motor disorder that caused permanent trembling and weakness in his hands. No longer able to hold a paint brush, he’d lost the ability to express himself the way he knew best. More tragedy struck in 1982, when Dalí’s beloved wife and friend, Gala, died. The two events sent him into a deep depression. He moved to Pubol, in a castle that he had purchased and remodeled for Gala, possibly to hide from the public or, as some speculate, to die. In 1984, Dalí was severely burned in a fire. Due to his injuries, he was confined to wheelchair. Friends, patrons and fellow artists rescued him from the castle and returned him to Figueres, making him comfortable at the Teatro-Museo.

In November 1988, Salvador Dalí entered a hospital in Figueres with a failing heart. After a brief convalescence, he returned to the Teatro-Museo. On January 23, 1989, in the city of his birth, Dalí died of heart failure at the age of 84. His funeral was held at the Teatro-Museo, where he was buried in a crypt.4.

“I believe in the future resolution of these two states, dream and reality, which are seemingly so contradictory, into a kind of absolute reality, a surreality, if one may so speak…”

Andre Breton: The Manifesto of Surrealism 1924.

After dipping only the very tip of my little toe into Salvadore Dali tonight, I’m already overwhelmed by my ignorance. Am feeling quite the simpleton for loving his: The Persistence of Memory simply because of the melting clocks.

I’m an Australian and we get very, very hot Summers here, which do very nasty things to chocolate. Indeed, I’ve even seen candles bend over and do a complete U-turn in the heat. So when I see the melting clocks, I am reminded of chocolate coins melting in the heat.You know where the chocolate coin is housed in thick gold foil. You don’t have to be a child to fall under their spell.

Of course, when it comes to time itself melting away and evaporating completely, I’m no stranger to that either. Indeed, time seems to run out faster than my bank account. I know what it’s like to live on a tidal plain, and have to return home before the tide comes in. Or, to head out in the kayak, before you have to drag the beast home. In other words, you don’t need to remind me that “time and tide wait for no one.”

Of course, there’s that other aspect of time. How long is our personal piece of string and how much time do we have left?

For me, this question isn’t theoretical. Indeed, it’s breathing down my neck all the time. However, I’m now so used to it’s omnipresence, that I ignore it. Carpe Diem seize the day. Well, at least, I try to. That said, The Cough often has other ideas. Indeed, I think that cough thinks it’s Salvadore Dali himself craving attention and believing it’s the Lord of Heaven and Earth. However,  just as Dali’s been cut down to size, I’m determined to deflate The Cough its all its dreams to extend my existence well past its expiry date, even if I have to climb an Everest of hurdles to get there.

While many view Dali as a genius, not everyone sees him that way. Writing in The Guardian, Australian art critic Robert Hughes, dismissed Dalí’s later works as “kitschy repetition of old motifs or vulgarly pompous piety on a Cinemascope scale.” Moreover, when Dawn Ades of England’s University of Essex, a leading Dalí scholar, began specializing in his work 30 years ago, her colleagues were aghast. “They thought I was wasting my time,” she says. “He had a reputation that was hard to salvage. I have had to work very hard to make it clear how serious he really was.” 1.

 The Persistence of Memory

Returning to The Persistence of Memory, he based this seaside landscape on the cliffs in his home region of Catalonia, Spain. The ants and melting clocks are recognizable images that Dalí placed in an unfamiliar context or rendered in an unfamiliar way. The large central creature comprised of a deformed nose and eye was drawn from Dalí’s imagination, although it has frequently been interpreted as a self-portrait. Its long eyelashes seem insect-like; what may or may not be a tongue oozes from its nose like a fat snail from its shell.

Time is the theme here, from the melting watches to the decay implied by the swarming ants. Mastering what he called “the usual paralyzing tricks of eye-fooling,” Dalí painted this work with “the most imperialist fury of precision,” but only, he said, “to systematize confusion and thus to help discredit completely the world of reality.” There is, however, a nod to the real: the distant golden cliffs are those on the coast of Catalonia, Dalí’s home.https://www.moma.org/learn/moma_learning/1168-2

Venus with Drawers.jpg

Salvadore Dali, Venus de Milo With Drawers

Venus With Drawers (1936)

Given that I’ve already touched on the Venus de Milo and Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, I thought I should also touch on Salvador Dali’s Venus With Drawers (1936):

Among Salvador Dali’s many memorable works, perhaps none is more deeply embedded in the popular imagination than Venus de Milo with Drawers, a half-size plaster reproduction of the famous marble (130-120 B.C.; Musée de Louvre, Paris), altered with pompom-decorated drawers in the figure’s forehead, breasts, stomach, abdomen, and left knee. The provoking combination of cool painted plaster and silky mink tufts illustrates the Surrealist interest in uniting different elements to spark a new reality. For the Surrealists the best means of provoking this revolution of consciousness was a special kind of sculpture that, as Dali explained in a 1931 essay, was “absolutely useless … and created wholly for the purpose of materializing in a fetishistic way, with maximum tangible reality, ideas and fantasies of a delirious character.” Dali’s article, which drew upon the ideas of Marcel Duchamp‘s Readymades, inaugurated object making as an integral part of Surrealist activity.

Dali was deeply influenced by the work of Sigmund Freud, contending “The only difference between immortal Greece and contemporary times is Sigmund Freud, who discovered that the human body, purely platonic in the Greek epoch, is nowadays full of secret drawers that only psychoanalysis is capable to open.” The artist was especially interested in Freud’s interpretation of William Jensen’s Gradiva, a 1903 novel about an archaeologist’s obsession with an ancient relief; this curiosity coincided with his first explorations on the theme of cabinets—works such as the intimately scaled Atmospheric Chair (1933), in which a small cabinet seems to give birth to a maelstrom of vaguely human body parts. In other works, like City of Drawers (1936), Dali transformed the cabinet into a female figure, or, as he put it, an “anthropomorphic cabinet.” Venus de Milo with Drawers is the three-dimensional culmination of Dali’s explorations into the deep, psychological mysteries of sexual desire symbolized in the figure of the ancient goddess of love.http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/185184

Dali Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War).jpg

Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War), c. 1936.

While I was devouring Dali tonight like a voracious glutton, I came across another work which I wanted to add to the mix. That is Dali’s  Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War), c. 1936. This anti-war piece was brushed just prior to the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939). The painting depicts a tormented figure tearing itself apart in what Dalí called “a delirium of autostrangulation.5” Australian art critic, Robert Hughes commented:

“Despite all bombast of the later work, Dalí’s greatest and most frightening painting is probably the Soft Construction with Boiled Beans – Premonition of Civil War (1936). With this single painting, Dalí moved into the territory of Goya. This monstrous Titan – its body is part-based on that of stringy Saturn, seen in the act of eating his child, in one of Goya’s Black Paintings in the Prado – is the most powerful image of a country’s anguish and dismemberment to issue from Spain (or anywhere else) since Los Desastres de la Guerra. And every inch of it, from the sinister greenish clouds and electric-blue sky to the gnarled bone and putrescent flesh of the monster, is exquisitely painted. This, not Picasso’s Guernica, is modern art’s strongest testimony on the civil war, and on war in general. Not even the failures of Dalí’s later work can blur that fact.6″

……

When it comes to trying to understand Dali’s works, I am very grateful to art critics like Robert Hughes, who can translate the many mysteries of the visual into something tangible. Of course, we can always have our own interpretations, but quite often a more detailed knowledge of the artist sheds some light. I also think that while many of us love art, we’re more of the dabbling kind and don’t have the time to develop the expertise required to become a walking art encyclopaedia.

That said, even in the brief weeks I’ve been hunkering down, I feel like I’ve devoured the golden calf. I’m just amazed at how much you can learn from your chair at home these days through the Internet. You just have to switch off the TV. Put Facebook on hold and you too could become a genius. There’s nothing stopping you.

Lastly, I should mention that Dali was also a writer and wrote several autobiographies. While I haven’t had a chance to read these, I really liked this little story, which he claimed to write as an 8 year old:

“Una noche a finales de junio, un niño se pasea con su madre. Llueven estrellas fugaces. El niño recoge una y la lleva en las palmas de las manos. Llega a casa, la deposita sobre la mesa y la aprisiona dentro de un vaso puesto al revés. Por la mañana, al levantarse, deja escapar un grito de horror: ¡un gusano, durante la noche, ha roído su estrella!“
(Translation: “A night at the end of June, a child takes a walk with his mother. It’s raining falling stars. The child picks up one and carries it in the palms of his hands. At home he deposits it on the table and locks it in a reversed glass. The next morning, getting up, he lets escape a scream of terror: A worm, during the night, has nibbled his star!“) 7.
So, after that grand introduction, here is my letter to Salvadore Dali…

Letter to Salvadore Dali

Dear Salvadore,

Did your moustache keep growing after you died?

Curiously yours,

Rowena

A Letter From Salvador Dali

 Dear Rowena,

Thank you for your letter. Eileen Agar passed it on. It was rather mean of you to string me along like this, almost to the very end. Of course, you were playing with me because I knew you would write to me.
As for my moustache, I’ve been in discussions with Shakespeare about purchasing the plaque from his grave:
“Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare, To dig the dust enclosed here. Blessed be the man that spares these stones, And cursed be he that moves my bones.”
As you may be aware, I was my comfy crypt was opened up recently. Talk about an invasion of privacy and not respecting the eternal sleep of the dead. It’s the thing  nightmares are made of, having your lid opened up like that and the light pouring in. As for being pocked and prodded, the was the last straw. Well, at least no one took my photo. That was the one salvation. I just hope they’re not going to try and clone me…especially with Woolly Mammoth or even the Tasmania Tiger. I know I had some mixed-up crazy images in my paintings, but it’s quite another to do that with my DNA, especially without my consent!
Anyway, you don’t need to take my word for it. They checked out my mo and it’s still in fine form. The rest of me is also is well preserved. Almost good enough to stage a return.
Well on that note, Gala and I are off for dinner with Eileen Agar. No doubt she’ll be wearing her Hat for Eating Bouillabaisse, so I’d better find myself  something unique. Can’t have someone else stealing my limelight!
Yours sincerely,

Salvadore Dali.

………..

Are you doing the A-Z Challenge this year? How are you finding it? Are you keeping up? I fell a day behind due to my trip to Sydney yesterday but managed to catch up and even get a bit ahead today. Can you believe it!!! I know I’ve bitten off way to much with this theme, but it’s coming together well and I’m learning so much. I hope you are too.
Best wishes,

Rowena

 

References

1.https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/the-surreal-world-of-

2 Wikipaedia – Salvadore Dali

3, http://thedali.org/timeline/

4. https://www.biography.com/people/salvador-dal-40389

5. https://camdencivilrightsproject.com/d76c7649335a276498962a6ad00428a3/

6. https://www.theguardian.com/books/2004/mar/13/art

7. https://figueras.weebly.com/literary-work.html

Salvador Manifesto of Surrealism 1924.

Dali’s Remains Exhumed for Paternity Test

E-Eileen Agar…A-Z Challenge

As you may be aware, my theme for the Blogging A-Z Challenge is Writing Letters to Dead Artists, who have touched me personally in some way.

Today’s artist is British surrealist, Eileen Agar, who I came across in rather a unique way. You see,  while I was compiling my list, I came across an art personality quiz on the Tate Gallery’s web site… http://www.tate.org.uk/art/find-your-art-inspiration. This is part of Women’s History Month, and it allows you to see which woman artist is your perfect match.

Since I love such quizzes, I sharpened my brain and tried to answer the questions as honestly as I could. Confession time. This is not as easy as it sounds, because I find it all too easy to cheat, and present a more idealized version of myself.

As it turned out, I was told that Eileen Agar was my perfect match. Indeed, this is what the quiz told me:

Love to play: Eileen Agar

“You are curious and perceptive, with a playful sense of humour. You love nature and collecting beautiful objects. Highly imaginative, you look at the world from a sideways perspective. You’re open to new experiences and appreciate life’s absurdities – much like Eileen Agar.

Agar (1904–1991) was one of the few women artists to become associated with the Surrealist movement. In fact, she was the only British woman artist to show work at the International Surrealist Exhibition in 1936. A lot of her work is assembled using different found materials and objects, such as feathers, beads and shells. She often took the natural world as her cue, responding playfully to the landscape around her (see her photograph of ‘Bum and Thumb Rock‘).”

Well, this was a bit of a surprise for this meek, mild-mannered reporter…a  Clark Kent in a woman’s body.

Let’s start off just by talking about her hats. These were artworks in themselves. Her best known is the Ceremonial hat for eating Bouillabaisse (a rich, spicy stew or soup made with various kinds of fish, originally from Provence). This was no ordinary hat. It “consisted of a cork basket picked up in St Tropez and painted blue, which I covered with fishnet, a lobster’s tail, starfish and other marine objects’ 1 Well, she was friends with Salvidor Dali who had a lobster on his telephone, so I shouldn’t be all that surprised.

Eileen Agar wearing Ceremonial Hat for Eating Bouillabaisse

Yet, can I see myself stepping out the front door and even walking down the street wearing such a hat? Not on your life. That said, I have been known to stand out in my own peculiar ways. Indeed, I’ve photographed tea cups in the waves and on the beach. I’ve also photographed a huge Eeyore on the beach looking wistfully out to sea. I also bought myself a pair of pink, satin ballet slippers and attended adult ballet classes, which meant crossing over some pretty high boundaries as a middle-aged woman living with disability and chronic health. So, I have broken a few conventions in my life, and as a child, I even dressed up as a shepherd one year, because I was sick of being an angel. That really was breaking all the rules, but no one said a word.

However, there is one very clear connection I do have with Eileen Agar. That is collecting things. For years, I’ve walked along the beach collecting shells and other detritus. Indeed, not unlike Agar, I actually used these shells while making cards. I have also kept other items like the cuckoo clock parts I salvaged from the neighbours throw out pile just in case one of us goes into sculpture. Ideas were definitely ticking over, even if all this stuff is currently stuffed in drawers or stashed in the roof.

Oh yes. Before I forget, there’s also the old piano currently sitting in our lounge room. As you may be aware, you can‘t even give a piano away these days, but I have plans to give this ailing piano a makeover and turn it into something else. Indeed, this piano has “POTENTIAL” written all over it.

Just like me.

When it comes to Agar’s works, I struggled to find anything I could really connect with. While I like a bit of surrealism, I also like to know what I’m looking at or at least have some clues. I just didn’t get that with most of her work. I didn’t get that spark, that intensity of feeling or any sense of identification. The closest I came was Head of Dylan Thomas, which I really do like after all and if I cut it out and stuck it to my wall, I know I’d love it. It’s just that trying to get through 26 artists in a month is a daunting task, especially when I’m tackling new artists just to fill in letters of the alphabet.

Yet, after reading about the colourful and effervescent life she led, it has made me wonder what we’d be like if each of us could be a 100% unadulterated version of ourselves, unimpeded by social conventions, expectations and our own inhibitions. Would we also be swinging from the chandeliers with the likes of Agar and Dali? Or, would we still be exactly who we are?

However, being creative isn’t just about breaking boundaries and social norms. It isn’t just about being consumed by the creative process, but being unable to live in the so-called “real world” either. There is a balance and some of those restraints are a good thing…a necessary evil. I do believe there needs to be some kind of balance, although I’m not always good at achieving this myself.

Lastly, there’s one very strong distinction between Eileen Agar and myself. Agar chose to remain childless to pursue her art, while I decided to get married and we have two kids and now three dogs, who are almost just as much work.

That’s something I’m going to think about as I explore these dead artists. How many of them married and had children…a family? Indeed, does an artist have the capacity to have two loves? Or, does art have to be all-consuming flame for you to make it to the top? Or, are there personality traits in these artists which aren’t well suited to long term relationships and the responsibilities of parenthood? As many parents know, parenthood is all-consuming. It’s very hard to switch off and it’s the same with the creative drive. It can be all-consuming.

It’s something to think about.

Each of us has our own choices to make.

By the way, I thought Sia’s Chandelier was the perfect musical accompaniment for Eileen Agar. What do you think?

A Letter to Eileen Agar

Dear Eileen,

I am currently writing a series of letters to Dead Artists who have inspired me in some way. As it turns out, we’ve only just met after The Tate Gallery matched us up. However, I don’t think we’re about to run off into the sunset together yet. I have reservations.

That said, I quite fancy your Head of Dylan Thomas and I was wondering if you’d mind painting my head like that with a bird’s eye view through to my thoughts.

Indeed, perhaps I should have a go myself. I think my version would have something of Van Gogh’s Starry Night inside with all those enigmatic swirls of turbulence. I also like your idea of using collage and sticking bit on. I’ll need to give this a bit of thought and get back to you.

While others would probably ask you a question more pointed to your art, mine is addressing the psychological aspects. Did you ever feel self-conscious wearing your fancy hats, like the Ceremonial Hat for Eating Bouillabaisse? Were you ever concerned that people would laugh, and you’d be ridiculed? Or, do you have a thicker skin and couldn’t care? You really must’ve had a sense of presence, very much like your friend Salvador Dali.

I wish I could be more expressive and let a little more of myself out of the bag. I always feel I have to hold it all back. Keep smiling. Clean house, happy kids. Sometimes, it feels like all that Spray and Wipe can even wash away your very self. Yet, I know what it’s like to be laughed at. Ridiculed. I try to avoid it if I can.

I’m looking forward to hearing from you!

Best wishes,

Rowena

A Reply From Eileen Agar

Dear Rowena,

Thank you so much for your unexpected letter.

“I have spent my life in revolt against convention, trying to bring colour and
light and a sense of the mysterious to daily existence. But the English urge
towards philistinism is impossible to avoid, though one may fight it root and
branch. One must have a hunger for new colour, new shapes and new possibilities
of discovery.”

Rowena, don’t be afraid of yourself. Most people shoot themselves in both feet before anyone else has even taken aim.

By the way, we have more in common than you think.

Amelia Mad Hatter Cake

If you put your daughter’s Mad Hatter Birthday Cake next to my Ceremonial Hat for Eating Bouillabaisse, there’s more than just a passing likeness. Indeed, I might make myself a new Cafe Hat. Something with little cups and saucers stuck on top.

By the way, do you think you could include a packet of Tim Tams in your next letter please? I’d like to try a Tim Tam explosion. It sounds very indulgent and just my thing.

Outrageously yours,

Eileen Agar

Featured image: Head  of Dylan Thomas, Tate Gallery, London.

 

An Ant’s Road Through the Roses.

the ants’ road
from peaks of clouds
to here.

Issa

When I saw this luscious red rose, I immediately metamorphosed into an ant crawling through it’s mountainous red petals until it finally reached all those golden pollen at the centre of the universe and slept.

Come to think of it, do ants actually sleep? Have you ever seen an ant taking a nap?

Just a thought…

xx Rowena

Mr’s Poem: Through My Window

Looking out my window,
I hear a sound.
Scutter scutter.
Scutter scutter.
Out in the garden,
there’s a little white rabbit.
Mum!
Dad!
But when we get back,
it’s gone…
just like a puff of smoke.

No one believes me.
They just say
that I’m dreaming.
Imagination overload
all over again.
But I know what I saw.

Now,
that I’m back here alone,
the rabbit returns.
It’s glowing gold,
red eyes flashing
in the darkness.
What is it?
Why has it come?

rabbit

Then, I blink again.
The rabbit burns up into flames
with an even brighter glow
and is gone.

In the morning,
I found no rabbit prints

in the grass.

No sign of the rabbit at all.
Yet,

I know what I saw…

a mysterious rabbit

hopping outside

my bedroom window.

By Mister J

23rd February 2016.

P.S. Sorry about the spacing in between lines. Between Word and WordPress something has gone awry.

If you have been following our Through My Window Poetry Series, this is my son’s interpretation of the theme. He had to write this poem for school. I came up with two versions of my own, which I was quite pleased about. Initially this was just to provide him with an example, but I became inspired by this theme and the range of perspectives it offered.

When I first found out that he had to write a poem, I was quite concerned. It sounded like a pretty ambitious undertaking to me. We never had to write a poem at school and even I was a long way from being a born poet. I remember my own embryonic efforts back at high school (all about unrequited love of course) which I poured out to my friend on the bus. These poems could have induced paroxysms of severe vomiting. I still have them but they are kept very much under lock and key.

However, Year 7s have to be pretty grown up these days. No sooner had they walked through the gate and they were given their jabs, had school photos and also had to write a real poem. None of this “the cat sat on the mat” or “roses are red” stuff but something original and Mister more than succeeded. I gave him a bit of a hand with punctuation and layout and we talked through his ideas so he could really clarify what he wanted to say. This included some heated moments but he did really well and I didn’t write it for him. He had a vision and he pulled it off. That’s something for anyone to celebrate…young or old.

Once again, I’m left to say that school is stretching my children in areas I never thought possible and I’m just left dumbstruck on the sidelines wondering what they’re going to get up to next.

I am Mum in a magical yellow taxi waking up every day wondering where we’ll be heading to next. It’s becoming an incredible journey but I also have to admit it’s a bit surreal and way beyond the scope of GPS.

Thank you for joining me for some of the drive!

xx Rowena

 

 

 

Stairways to Heaven: Stockholm, Sweden.

Don’t you just feel like climbing up these stairs would like you on some kind of magical mystery journey through the clouds to the sort of mysterious lands which were found at the top of Enid Blyton’s Magic Faraway Tree?

xx Rowena

inte fan gör det det

heaven!

View original post

Kayaking Through the Clouds

Almost heaven…nowhere near West Virginia!

I ,just had to share this amazing photo of me kayaking through the clouds at Pittwater. It is so relaxing just drifting along…quite literally floating. Quite literally, I felt like I was paddling through one of Magritte’s cloud paintings…pure magic.

xx Rowena

PS See I can write a post with less than 1000 words but it doesn’t happen often!