Yesterday I began a post I never finished, giving it a title that accidentally ended up on another post to which the title was completely unrelated. Maybe I’ll find the replacement title by the time I finish this attempt. Just ask ‘Nathan: Titles are hard.
I don’t know if many people are reading my Magnetic Poetry entries, but the poems are doing a couple of things for me. The first is in serving my original purpose: to help me refocus on creating with words instead of with paint or fabric (though I’m still doing that, too). The second is that I’m being taught–again–that while it’s wonderful to get reactions–especially from Helen, who’s using the words to make her own poems, which I love and and invite anyone to do–a writer must accustom herself to a most dreadful and wonderful silence. Dreadful because there’s always doubt–why am I doing this? it’s all crap. I am a big fraud. no one will ever read this or care.–and wonderful because….there’s always doubt. That doubt can be the impetus for learning to satisfy oneself, to create for the sheer pleasure of creating, to know that creation is its own reward.
When I began this project, I mentioned poet Austin Kleon as one of my inspirations. Here, I’m reading his book that I received for Christmas, Newspaper Blackout–in fact, I’m smiling because I just finished “The Ninja’s Chauffeur.”
After graduating from college, while looking for a job, Kleon sat at home next to stacks of The New York Times delivered to his future wife so she could remove clippings for her job. In struggling to write short stories, he realized the pages next to him had millions of words. He got the idea to black out all the words except those that created a new story from the news story. That’s how his blackout poems were born. I suggest you visit his site, linked above, to see some of the results of that original idea.
In learning more about him, I found that some of his work was for sale on another wonderful site, 20×200, whose mission is to help art lovers and collectors find new artists and buy their work at affordable prices. If you’ve read Tim’s or my LiveJournals for any length of time, you know how we joke about our agoraphobic-like tendencies. So it’s understandable why I was immediately drawn to Kleon’s poem “Agoraphobia,” especially when it made me think of Tim venturing into the world as a young man. I ordered the last 10×8 archival pigment print in stock to give to Tim for Christmas.
Unfortunately, that print somehow vanished during shipment, but when the great folks at 20×200 realized it was lost, they immediately offered a larger print of “Agoraphobia” at no additional charge. SOLD! I love good customer service, and I’m absolutely thrilled with this print, which is now in Tim’s possession:
(View larger version of photo on black.)
I discovered from the description included with the print that Kleon’s poem was taken from an article about a young violinist–a happy coincidence, as Tim has–and sometimes plays in solitude–his own heirloom violin built by his great-grandfather.
What’s this ‘agoraphobic-LIKE?” Hee hee.
I for one am thrilled that you are creating with words again. ‘Bout time.
Thank you. =)
Me too. I had wondered if we would be graced with more of your writing. (Although, now that I think about it, I could see the magnetic poetry being displayed in a gallery.) I say, whatever gets the words in the right order.
I had no idea Tim played violin….
Thank you.
Tim’s a Renaissance man.
You know, I look forward every day to seeing what new poem you’ve come up with! Your writing delights me.
Thank you; that’s very kind. =)
Love the idea of the blackout poems!
By the way, did you see the e-mail about the fragment of my work I was whorin?
I’m way behind on e-mail. I’ll get caught up soon!
That’s quite a “Phoenix from the Ashes” story – one gift “lost” but another, just as valuable, offered in its place.
This is such a heartwarming story; and thanks for sharing the picture of Tim’s family violin.
I’d never heard of newspaper blackout before, but I’m now inspired to look at Austin Kleon’s site.
Thank you. =)
I’m really savoring my book from him.
Okay, a) I’m way into your magnetic poetry, I’m just terrible at responding to anyone’s posts these days (working on it). b) I LOVE 20×200! Have a couple of prints from that site. I often avoid it actually, especially when I’m low on funds because I just can’t resist all of the incredible art available. c) I was really hoping to meet Austin Kleon at the Creative Fidelity show in Austin last year, but he and I were never at the gallery space at the same time. Totally dig is work.
Isn’t 20×200 great? Yeah, if I were a rich girl…
I’m behind on commenting, reading e-mail, pretty much everything. But so far I’m managing a poem a day! I don’t know how Gilbert did Draw365.
Newspaper Blackout is ordered. Click.
Your poems are fantastic. You’ve tempted me to dig out my own set of magnetic poetry, but my husband is probably still suffering from images of what the fridge looked like for the first few years of our cohabitation.
Your words are fantastic, period. More of them, please.
Yay, I sold a book for Austin!
Thank you for your kind words. Apparently, Dan will be expecting the magnetic poetry to be dirty. True story: There are times I throw words back in the metal box as I’m composing a poem because I fear that Marika will get all frisky about them.
Space. Is. Big. Really big. Vastly, hugely, mindbogglingly big….
That’s an interesting inversion of censorship 🙂