The watercolors of January--a story

Red. That's the theme of February's show at our gallery, In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District. I'll be hanging mine today, getting ready for First Friday art walk, Feb. 5.

There are 10 of us member artists now, and we meet once a month--via zoom for the past 10 months as the pandemic has disrupted every one's lives and businesses. We've been fortunate that we've not suffered as much of the rest of the world. That's when we chose the red theme for February.

It's been my goal ever since March to try to bring some bright color into the world to offset the darkness,  and it spurred my creativity, with many, many paintings...some good, some, well so-so. But I painted...more a gift to myself than others, I suspect.

I count myself fortunate to be such a member,  but when the theme was suggested, I thought I had nothing red to show. So I got to work.

As I did, and began assembling them, getting them framed at Pirate's Alley in Britton, I also found a few earlier red ones to be included.

And in this process, this appropriate poetry from by readings in Rumi just appeared this week:

Here is the slide show, beginning with my best, the round barn at Arcadia. It ends with the first painting of the new year, the only non-red one of the month, "Manzano Moon Shadows."

Here's the information on those paintings, most are 5 x 7s, unless specified otherwise, size not including mat and frame. Those from earlier than January are included:

"Oklahoma Sentinel" (8 x 10), "Attention Getter," " Everybody needs flowers," "Seeing Red,"  "End of the Line" (8 x 10), Granddaughter's birthday card, "Rock and Roll" (earlier), "Hold on to your hat kind of day" (earlier), "Red Hot," "Redhead," "Irish Eyes" (earlier), "Passion," "Amazing Grace" (8 x 10, earlier), (U.S.S. Arizona" (earlier), "Great Plains Winter" (earlier),  "Manzano Moon" (8 x 10).

What is the color of God?

"The light that comes from red hair," 5 x 7 watercolor

By coincidence, or serendipity or whatever you call it, I found the theme for my recent art last night.

As you know from this month's paintings, I and my gallery partners have been getting new art ready for the red them of our February show at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery in Paseo Arts District.

Last night, before nodding off, I was reading again from The Big Red Book by Rumi, the Persian poet and seer, who lived from 1207 to 1273.

And there it was, jumping out at me, about the color red. And of course, as someone always attractd to redheads, it was even more pertinent.

So I had to try to paint again, another redhead, to be framed and for sale in February, along with 11 other mostly recent paintings fitting the theme.

But, hey, I couldn't pass up trying today's painting.

 

Jesus' example and the mob--from Rumi

"As those with business ideas

were driven from the temple courtyard,

so bitter, self-important people need to be excluded

from the mix being stirred in this day's great wooden bowl."

 Sometimes, truth choose you, or  jumps out at you, when you need it.

In these dangerous times for freedom, as hell-bent thugs and their leader  threaten our  country, even going to sleep can be difficult.

Rather than take a sleeping pill or anxiety medicine, I often turn to soothing wisdom of the Catholic seer Thomas Merton, or to the Persian mystic and poet Rumi.

Their books are by the bed, and I'll just randomly open one of them up and start reading.

So it was last night, when  opened Rumi's The Big Red Book, and these lines from the section, title "The Majesty," the poem, "This Day's Great Wooden Bowl" leaped out. He lived from 1207 to 1273. Amazing perspective.

Pandemic antidotes--a year for poetry

It's been a year of poetry in my pandemic reading, as I look back over the 49 books attempted.

Seven of them were complete books of poetry, with selected portions of other books.

Ray Bradbury said to read poetry every day because it stretched muscles not ordinarily used. I didn't make every day, but this has been a year of quarantine, or stress, trials and more, when stretching muscles, especially mental  and spiritual muscles, is essential to mental health.

Four of the books are from three friends and Okie poets. The most recent was a rereading of Benjamin Myers' Black Sunday, a collection of sonnets, no less, and a short story, all about a few Okies surviving the Dust Bowl. Stories of people with grit, applicable today.

Two new ones by Nathan Brown are like reading a day-by-day diary of the pandemic. His Pandemic Poetry Project contains a poem a day, by date, beginning in March, suggested by sponsored prompts from his readers. 

In the Days of Our Seclusion  (March-May) and In the Days of Our Unrest (June-August). One poem in the second book was my prompt, "back roads." It's about a lonely highway in New Mexico. But most are wrenching reality and insights into our 2020 journeys. You can buy them direct from him, $15 plus shipping. Brownlines

He has two more books continuing the series forthcoming. You can listen to him reading from the poems in his periodic "FirePit Sessions" on his Facebook Page. 

Ken Hada's Sunlight and Cedar. I reviewed in August on this blog. You can read about that earth-deep poetry here. A Geography of Pandemic Poetry

Actually, you can order from Ken and Ben directly as well. Contact them: Ken Hada or @BenMyersPoet on twitter. Or at bookstores of course, but if you want yours inscribed....

These are all mind- and soul-stretching antidotes for the messes we're in this year.

The other books: Mary Oliver's Devotions; Mary Ruefle's Dunce and Charles Bukoski's Betting on the Muse.

The partial readings? A closing poem in Wendell Berry's The Art of Loading Brush--a collection of agrarian writings, and then skipping around in The Big Red Book by Rumi, and another poet I know you've heard of, David, in Psalms.