Jackson Pollock's Floor

Jackson Pollock’s Floor

Frank built the Guggenheim

a grand mastered structure

on an uncertain foundation

a convulsive innovation spelled

in an inverted ziggurat scheme

all this

so that Jackson Pollock might

concentrate a lavender mist for

a taut composition on the floor

to mount on a clean (W)right wall

full impasto/abstract expression

chance effect/unique freedom

drip drip drip

syntheticresinpaintalkydeenamel

greensilverblueblackyellowmarine

so that Jackson Pollock might

heavily influence a discerning eye

stir a little bit of pride in your protest

art built for a vast emotional aftermath

large-scale retrospective/comprehensive exhibit

it is romantic to recoil from the images

have stark dreams in the open rotunda

name them/number them/sell/parade

manipulation of art/careful compliment

those with heightened superior gifts

settle into your quaint country-sides

jangle the gables of your suburbs

force a tight perimeter around your cities

so that you might

walk the length of Pollock’s spotted floor

in your bare feet with your soul showing

**

Headstrong hump day!  My marbles are all falling out and I’m desperate for a little bit of outside sunshine (yes, it’s sunny, or partly here) and quiet.  I’ve got an hour left of my work day and then I think it might be beneficial to park myself somewhere with some tea, a nibble and read my book.  I started reading ‘Dear Girls Above Me’ by Charlie McDowell last night and got through half.  I forced myself to stop reading and turn my light out.  It’s funny and fresh and I am enjoying the male narrative in a modern setting that utilizes the aspect of social media and worldly romance.  I also bought ‘The Birth House’ by Ami McKay.  I loved her second novel, ‘The Virgin Cure’.  I am reading her work backwards but hers is worth reading.  Her writing is stunning. 

I also discovered I had more vacation days left at work than I thought I did.  Woo hoo!  I’ve submitted a request to make the Labor Day weekend an extended one and then for my December birthday day off.  I enjoyed having it off last year so why break tradition.  I’m a Wednesday child and this year, my 40^th, falls on a Wednesday.  Woe seems appropriate, no?

I polished this arty poem while I ate a bite of lunch today between phone calls and emails.  Hugh Jackman tweeted a photo of Jackson Pollock’s floor the other day and it just stuck with me, I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I wrote this poem.  I am fascinated by his artwork and always find it sad that someone with his natural artistic aptitude and his penchant for changing the rules, he died so young.

Pasta for dinner tonight?  Why not.

Stay smart.

In propinquity,

Nic

Tiger

Saturday.  Artist date.  I woke early on this glorious sunny Saturday morning, readied myself for an adventure.  The ferry ride across the Halifax harbour was serene and peaceful.  It landed me on the Halifax waterfront where I walked along the boardwalk until I seated myself in a quiet corner table at The Lower Deck for a bite of lunch.  I was starved since I tend to skip breakfast on Saturday mornings. I dined on fish and salad while striking my red editing pen across my short story pages.  I'm torn because I want it to be a brief look into the lives of these two women but I keep thinking of more to write.  I wrote a ton of notes down but am still trying to decide how to organize those thoughts, how to situate them, inject them into the story.

After I was fully nourished I took a walk through the downtown pedway system and stopped briefly at the bookstore in Scotia Square.  I purchased a copy of Ami McKay's The Virgin Cure.  It's been on my to-read list for awhile and my Chapters/Indigo gift card that Sherrie gave me for my birthday was burning a hole in my pocket. (I started to read it on the way home, it's fantastical!  She's an incredible writer and I can't wait to devour every page.)  From there, I carried on down Barrington Street, peeking in shop windows, noting how much that stretch is changing and almost felt lonely with all of the closed businesses and construction.  I slid into a comfy booth at Starbucks with a tea and got down to the business of writing and more editing.  I polished poems, wrote a quick letter and agonized more on my story and thought a little on my new piece; all while listening to two idiots talk about 'girls'.  I am constantly amazed when I overhear young men muse about the opposite sex.  Their constant ignorance and insensitivity in their regard and attitude turns my stomach.  I won't repeat here what was shared between the two friends amping up with coffee for a night of debauchery in Halifax drinking establishments but I will say that I hope a young confident woman crosses their paths and gives them a good dose of their own medicine.  While I know the battle of the sexes is an on-going war, it's still disarming to encounter such distasteful human beings who are so entitled and think it's okay to degrade a woman based on their occupation, interests, affiliations or just because she has a vagina.  Grrr.  Anyway, I digress.

I am terribly distressed that HMV is closing on Spring Garden Road.  I ended my trek there.  I elbowed my way through the greedy crowd and fulfilled my 80's movie wish-list.  I purchased 'St Elmo's Fire', 'Breakfast Club' and 'Beautiful Girls' - all dirt cheap.  I browsed for a few records I wanted but since they are soon to close, much of the stock has dwindled leaving little selection and I'm not in the market for an Air Supply Greatest Hits.  I did manage to snatch up the new Tragically Hip so I can be ready for their show on February 2nd at the Halifax Metro Center and I grabbed 'Where The Light Is' John Mayer Live in Los Angeles.  

I came right home with my selections, uploaded the discs into my iTunes, changed into my sweats and hoodie, pulled my hair back and got down to more writing.  With the company of a delightful pot of tea, I vow to accomplish just a little bit more before hanging up my writer's cap and maybe popping in one of the movies I bought today.  Dinner is also on the agenda.  What, I cannot say.

The following poem is a direct result of the above photo.  I came across it one day and used it as a prompt.  I give you 'Tiger':

Tiger

it is the fire of poetry

the hum of sad songs

the rolling of the sea

that tames the Tiger

restless sleep

unraveled dreams

the full range

of human emotion

it is the fragile reality

the accumulated luxuries

the unexpected surprise

that initiates the Tiger’s roar

ambition & rain

mirrors & smoke

rich eyes

skilled hands

in the heart of morning

is the call of the wild

**

One of the polished pieces from my day out treating my artist.  I hope your Saturday has been fulfilling and something made you smile today.

In propinquity,

Nic