the fountain, Monotype of the Day #794

Day 62 of year 3

This is the ghost print from last night's plate with another layer on top. I've used tonight's poem by Rilke before but from a different translator who gives it a slightly different flavor. I so wish I could read it in the original German!

Sonnets to Orpheus II, XII By Rilke, Trans. Barrows and Macey

Want the change. Be inspired by the flame
where everything shines as it disappears.
The artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much
as the curve of the body as it turns away.

What locks itself in sameness has congealed.
Is it safer to be gray and numb?
What turns hard becomes rigid
and is easily shattered.

Pour yourself out like a fountain.
Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking
finishes often at the start, and, with ending, begins.

Every happiness is the child of a separation
it did not think it could survive. And Daphne, becoming a laurel,
dares you to become the wind.

From In Praise of Mortality https://amzn.to/33tnNiq

For more information on purchasing this monotype click here or see “Buy Art” in the menu above.

an earful, Monotype of the Day #793

Day 61 of year 3

This is a black ink print over an older color print. It's challenging to get the right color on darker prints when editing photo but this is pretty close. I like the mystery of it. It very much captures how I'm feeling right now. There are certain poems that call you back over and over. Tonight's poem by Lynn Ungar is one. If you haven't read her work, a link to her book is at the bottom and she publishes new poems on Facebook regularly.

Salvation
By Lynn Ungar

By what are you saved? And how?
Saved like a bit of string,
tucked away in a drawer?
Saved like a child rushed from
a burning building, already
singed and coughing smoke?
Or are you salvaged
like a car part — the one good door
when the rest is wrecked?

Do you believe me when I say
you are neither salvaged nor saved,
but salved, anointed by gentle hands
where you are most tender?
Haven’t you seen
the way snow curls down
like a fresh sheet, how it
covers everything,
makes everything
beautiful, without exception?

From Bread and Other Miracles https://amzn.to/3bUHvYA

For more information on purchasing this monotype click here or see “Buy Art” in the menu above.

raising the bar, Monotype of the Day #792

Day 60 of year 3

I'm returning to my roots. I haven't worked in black ink for at least a year. It's soothing, a mental reset. The colors of my current ink choices have me feeling a bit fed up. Because I'm only able to work with water soluble inks, my palette is considerably limited. Limits can be a good thing, they force you to stretch and think creatively but some times you just need to run free. So I'm giving color a rest for now. Overall, I'm in sort of a weird place with my work the last few weeks. It feels uncomfortable. I'm working on embracing this place of uncertainty rather than judging it. I know whatever is going on, it's necessary to my process. At the same time, my desire to spent more time on larger project is growing. Like many artists, my work has been upended by COVID. Projects that I had been working on for a traditional gallery setting prior to quarantine stopped feeling relevant. Finally though, new projects are beginning to sprout and I look forward to seeing what unfolds. I'm been reading a lot of Rilke lately, the poem below is speaking to me tonight.

I live my life in widening circles
By Rilke, Trans Barrows & Macy

I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not ever complete the last one,
but I give myself to it.

I circle around God, that primordial tower.
I have been circling for thousands of years,
and I still don't know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?

From Rilke's Book of Hours https://amzn.to/2ZxWMJH

For more information on purchasing this monotype click here or see “Buy Art” in the menu above.

you are welcomed, Monotype of the Day #791

Day 59 of year 3

I have been feeling unsatisfied with my work the past couple of weeks. I'm sharing this because it a natural part of the process of working. Interestingly it doesn't necessarily correlate to the quality of the work. An artist can make phenomenal work and still not feel good about it. This is an internal state, part of being human. Just like in other areas of life, some days feel better than others for no good reason, some weeks are just bad. Maybe someday I'll look back on this period and like the work. It doesn't really matter though, what matters is being in the process- whatever it is at the moment good or bad. It can be easy to let frustrated or unsatisfied feelings overwhelm and become reasons to stop working. Working doesn't necessarily mean brush to canvas, it can also mean doing the internal work necessary to allow creativity to flow freely. Once you accept that these states as a normal part of the process, they are easier to be with. They become a passing moment in time rather than a blockade. You only have to wait and the well will fill again. Everything is cyclical. Trust, have patience, and the feeling of flow will return.

Birdsong Brings Relief
By Rumi, Translation Barks

Birdsong bring relief
to my longing.

I am just as ecstatic as they are,
but with nothing to say!

Please, universal soul, practice
some song, or something through me!

From The Essential Rumi https://amzn.to/3bKYTP6 

you must grow & you can grow (ghost print) Monotype of the Day #789

Day 57 of year 3

"You must change you life" is the final line of tonight's poem, Archaic Torso of Apollo by Rilke. After I named the first print it immediately came to mind. It's about a damaged sculpture of the Greek god Apollo. Although it doesn't exactly fit this piece, I've always loved the poem because it reminds me that there can be great power in brokeness. The speaker in the poem experiences this power and feels the call to transform. A variation of the last line, "You can change your life", has been my motto for many years. My deep belief in this idea, confirmed by my life and supported by my studio practice, has gotten me through some very difficult times. The circumstances of the external world sometimes, probably often, can not be changed but the inner world is always ripe for transformation. True and lasting change in the external world most often comes from healing the inner landscape. When our inner relationship to a situation changes, even though nothing in the world has shifted, everything feels different. These prints are depictions of change and growth in my inner world. (Poem below the title)

Archaic Torso of Apollo By Rilke, Trans Stephen Mitchell

We cannot know his legendary head
with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,

gleams in all its power. Otherwise
the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could
a smile run through the placid hips and thighs
to that dark center where procreation flared.

Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beast's fur:

would not, from all the borders of itself,
burst like a star: for here there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.

From Selected Poems: https://amzn.to/2Zfc1an

from seed to bloom, Monotype of the Day #787

Day 55 of year 3

Saint Francis and the Sow
By Galway Kinnel

The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don’t flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;   
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;   
as Saint Francis
put his hand on the creased forehead
of the sow, and told her in words and in touch   
blessings of earth on the sow, and the sow   
began remembering all down her thick length,   
from the earthen snout all the way
through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of the tail,   
from the hard spininess spiked out from the spine   
down through the great broken heart
to the sheer blue milken dreaminess spurting and shuddering   
from the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths sucking and blowing beneath them:
the long, perfect loveliness of sow.

From Three Books https://amzn.to/3haC5JD

safe passage, Monotype #783

Day 51 of year 3

Which is Worth More
By Rumi

Which is worth more, a crowd of thousands,
or your own genuine solitude?
Freedom, or power over an entire nation?
A little while alone in your room
will prove more valuable than anything else
that could ever be given you.

From The Essential Rumi https://amzn.to/2QIepla

please be seated, Monotype of the Day #782

Day 50 of year 3

(Total project days 782)

This work is accompanied with "Rebus" by Jane Hirshfield from Given Sugar, Given Salt.

Read it here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47099/rebus

https://amzn.to/3lBRw1f

ready and waiting, Monotype of the Day #781

Day 49 of year 3

This We Have Now
by Rumi, Trans.. Coleman Barks

This we have now
is not imagination.

This is not
grief or joy.

Not a judging state,
or an elation,
or sadness.

Those come
and go.

This is the presence
that doesn't.

It's dawn, Husam,
here in the splendor of coral,
inside the Friend, the simple truth
of what Hallaj said.

What else could human beings want?

When grapes turn to wine
they're wanting
this.

When the nightsky pours by,
it's really a crowd of beggars,
and they all want some of this!

This
that we are now
created the body, cell by cell,
like bees building a honeycomb.

The human body and the universe
grew from this, not this
from the universe and the human body.

From The Essential Rumi https://amzn.to/2QIepla 

rise, Monotype of the Day #774

Day 42 of year 3

Last night I was unsatisfied by the process of making my print. Usually that happens when I'm in my head, when my mind and body are so disconnected that I can't access inner messages. I receive inner guidance as a flash, a combination of a brief image and a physical feeling that is like a drop of ink water, it expands as I physically move and work. Allowing it to naturally and fully unfold requires complete awareness of the body to sense the gentle nudges of guidance. So today I meditated for the first time in ages to get reconnected and almost immediately new images started dropping in. What a relief! Meditation is so essential to my art practice, it's amazing how often I forget that though! This print reminds me of the power available in the present moment.. Today's poem (below the title) is a haiku by the wonderful writer Cheryl Welch from her excellent new book Feather. You can order it here: https://www.welchdesignpublishing.com/

anything at all
can happen at anytime,
live without regret

By Cheryl Welch

From Feather https://www.welchdesignpublishing.com/

mysterious, Monotype of the Day #769

Day 37 of year 3

Singing Image of Fire
By Kukai 8th-9th century Japanese Monk

A hand moves, and the fire's whirling takes different shapes:
All things change when we do.
The first word,
"Ah," blossoms into all others.
Each of them is true.
Found in the Nine Gates: Entering the mind of Poetry https://amzn.to/32n4yH9

St. Francis Mid-Way, a Poem

The Healing Nature of Wounds by Sybil ArchibaldThis is a poem I wrote last year when recovering from losing so much blood. I felt great deal of despair and I found solace and hope in the example of St. Francis. I know I've posted a lot about St. Francis in recent months, but I promise this will be my last post on him for at least a few more!

St. Francis, Mid-Way, Speaks

On Stigmata

As the warmth spreads softly through your hands

You cannot realize how much it will burn

For years it will burn

Brighter and dimmer in rhythm with a secret cycle

but always aflame

always searing

bringing the spirit to boil

I am the pot for a sacred recipe I will never know.

My side cries the blood-red tears of a mother for her Son.

I will never forget.

My feet produce a holy smudge as I walk

Each step is a sacred stab

Painting soil, rooting me,

My palette: blood mixed with the trod upon earth,

Earth and man are one.

On Internal Boiling

I keep these ever bleeding wounds hidden as best I can

My secret shame that I should be singled out for God’s mark.

Many times I feel I cannot bear it.

Many times I wonder if I can go on.

But I do

There are moments when the pain and anguish subside, like the brief parting of clouds during a grey winter’s day

Then I am flooded with Your Light

I forget to wonder

I forget embarrassment

There is only You

My joy

Then the clouds close and blood fills my eyes.

I am here on earth again.

And the best I can do is bask deliciously in the echo of that moment.

Putting one wounded foot in front of the other,

Trusting that the pigmented marks I leave, my sacred painting, serves a purpose.

What the Ordinary Person Says of their Wounds

I am wounded to the core and my fever burns unceasingly.

I keep these ever-aching wounds hidden as best I can

My secret shame that I should be singled out, that I am different.

Is this God’s mark?

Lord, let my expectations and my mark be one.

Grant that my unfulfilled and broken plans

Dissolve in your sacred boiling pot.

I have endured all manor of physical pain.

But nothing compares to the suffering of lost dreams.

I throw myself on your mercy.

Let this small, circumscribed life have meaning.

Dear Francis, show me the way.

- Sybil Archibald 2012

On An Artist's Responsibility to the Light

The Teacher: Opening to Love

Light

by Allama Prabhu

Light
devoured darkness.

I was alone
inside.

Shedding
the visible dark

I
was Your target

O Lord of Caves.

[English version by A. K. Ramanujan, Original Language Kannada]

My esophagus and I have had a lovers spat. But after 3 months on a liquid diet I am happily eating solid food again. What a trying time. Some days it took more than 2 hours to drink a single cup of fluid because it simply didn’t want to go down. Each time I go through a difficult spell with my health, I know that there is divine purpose. I always come through healed in mind and soul as well as body.Though my esophageal quarrel was extremely difficult, I made it through because of painting. Painting allowed me to connect to the deep well of creativity that regenerated me even as I felt my body slipping away. Painting became my anchor to life and each time I lifted my brush I felt I was reeling myself into safe harbor. This time made crystal clear the personal value of making art and also made clear why art is so important to the world. Anyone who has read this blog will know I believe art and healing are deeply connected. As an artist is healed by the process of their work, that energy is captured. This energy resonates within their piece where it has the potential to heal its viewer. This is my highest goal, to create work that heals. I also think that is what art does at it's best. Art can do other things: educate, shock, bring beauty. But all these fall aside when measured against the sacred calling to heal and transform. This may seem a lofty goal that is not often reached but it is important to set lofty goals as Henry Moore says:

The secret of life is to have a task, something you devote your entire life to, something you bring everything to, every minute of the day for the rest of your life. And the most important thing is, it must be something you cannot possibly do.-Henry Moore

I would change that quote slightly from something you cannot do to something it seems you cannot do. It is too easy to limit what we can do by dismissing goals as unattainable. Art has the ability to change people on a very deep level and therefore artists have a great responsibility. Some might say they have a responsibility to themselves or to their vision, but I would disagree. Instead, artists have a responsibility to the Light / Creativity that they shepherd into the world. It is a flickering flame that must be cradled and cherished that it may heal and guide us forward. Unfortunately, the art world and many artists have often forgotten the sacred nature of their charge. Many are trapped and blinded by history’s model of the bohemian artist shocking the world.

Today, it is almost impossible to shock anyone. We have all seen countless murders and even really war causalities on TV. We are even jaded to the point of numbness. Yet many artists still doggedly cling to this notion of shocking the establishment. No longer able to shock the public at large, artists have settled for shocking the artworld with increasingly self-reflexive works that are no longer accessible or meaningful to the average person. Works that paradoxically become more and more cerebral the less they mean.

It seems to me that as a society all we can see the darkness: the murder and crime, the wars, the destruction of our environment. When I said artist’s have a responsibility to the Light it meant it. We need to start carving a path of Light out of the darkness we are mired in. Artists have a unique opportunity to actively engage in their own healing through their work. This healing energy then spills out and effects everyone in their lives and everyone who encounters their work. We must acknowledge the darkness in ourselves and our world and transform it. We can hold the world’s darkness on our canvases along with its Light, the pain and the joy, in a way that allows the release of the pain and the movement toward joy. Being with was is, our own pain and shadow side, is an act of courage and faith that there is something more, that transformation is possible. This adds Light in the world. The more we focus on this Light and praise it rather than complain, the more we add to a movement of healing that will in time reach a tipping pointing where darkness and Light can rebalance in a healthier way. So artists, I say, be brave, be ever so brave and enter your own darkness to find your path to Light. The world is depending on us. With love,Sybil

Gallery Opening Tonight

Heartbeat
By Rainer Maria Rilke
Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart
which safely exists in the center of all things?
His giant heartbeat is diverted in us
into little pulses. And his giant griefis, like his giant jubilation, far too
great for us. And so we tear ourselves away
from him time after time, remaining only
mouths. But unexpectedly and secretly
the giant heartbeat enters our being,
so that we scream ----,
and are transformed in being and in countenance.

I adore that poem!

I have my piece The Pregnant Virgin: Creative Vessel in this show. (see image below). I hope you can make it!

The Pierro Gallery in the Baird Center5 Mead Street South Orange, NJ 07079
Opening: Thursday May 24th, 6pm to 8pm
Gallery Talk: Thursday, June 7th, 7pm
Regular Hours: Wednesday & Thursday 2 to 7pm, Friday & Saturday 1 to 4pm

This show is the preview for the SOMA Artist Tour on Sunday June 3. I will be displaying the completed and in process pieces from my Earthen Vessel Series at 5 Mead Street, South Orange, NJ.

A Poem for Inspiration

A friend just reminded me of this beautiful poem. Thanks Katherine!

Last Night As I Was Sleeping
By Antonio Machado

Last night as I was sleeping,
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night as I slept,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.

I may just have to incorporate this image into my next painting....