"so many fish long for bait", Monotype of the Day #266

The title is a quote from the poem below. This phrase touches me deeply, we don't always know what is best for us. Our desires are not always for our highest good. Sometimes the thing is just to breathe and wait to be filled by the unknown as our desires pass us by. This is a lesson in trust and trust is one of foundations of making art (and also of healing).

Cooling Off
by Wang Wei
English version by Willis Barnstone
Original Language Chinese

Clear waters drift through the immensity of a tall forest.
In front of me a huge river mouth
receives the long wind.
Deep ripples hold white sand
and white fish swimming as in a void.
I sprawl on a big rock,
billows nourishing my humble body.
I gargle with water and wash my feet.
A fisherman pauses out on the surf.
So many fish long for bait. I look
only to the east with its lotus leaves

http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Poets/W/WeiWang/CoolingOff/index.html

the artist is held, Monotype of the Day #265

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I keep using this title but I guess that’s the artist’s prerogative. 😊

God's Grandeur
by Gerard Manley Hopkins

The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs --
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Stillness, Monotype of the Day #263

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After making this print, this poem came to mind. I love the first book of the Sonnets to Orpheus so much. Rilke has such insight into the creative process.


Sonnets to Orpheus 1:1
Rilke


A tree ascended there. Oh pure transendence!
Oh Orpheus sings! Oh tall tree in the ear!
And all things hushed. Yet even in that silence
a new beginning, beckoning, change appeared.
Creatures of stillness crowded from the bright
unbound forest, out of their lairs and nests;
and it was not from any dullness, not
from fear, that they were so quiet in themselves,
but from just listening. Bellow, roar, shriek
seemed small inside their hearts. And where there had been
at most a makeshift hut to receive the music,
a shelter nailed up out of their darkest longing,
with an entryway that shuddered in the wind-
you built a temple deep inside their hearing.
Translated by Stephen Mitchell

the artist is held, Monotype of the Day #261

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Mystics describe a transformative state called the Dark Night of the Soul. It is a moment when life is complete chaos and everything is going wrong. We feel utterly lost and abandoned by the divine. But rather than being lost, mystics believe this is the moment when we are actually held closest to the divine. We are lodged deeply in divine reason which seems like chaos to the human mind, so close to the divine that you are literally blinded by the Light. All appears in darkness and no path forward is clear. This state is necessary to transform and breakdown old structures and beliefs that stand in the way of growth and change. It is the undoing of the ties that bind us to our easy habits and well worn ruts which hold us back. It is the way of the artist to embrace and surrender to change.

receiving healing, Monotype of the Day #260

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As many of you who have been following my posts know, I have had a difficult month health-wise, but I'm now on the mend. Throughout the month, and even when I was in the hospital, I continued making my daily prints. I made them, but I didn't like them. It was hard to tell if they really weren't good or of I just didn't feel well. One of the core struggles of being an artist is judging your own work. I consistently find that I get the most positive responses on piece I like the least. I've come to believe that it is not my job to judge my work or even to like particular pieces. Rather, it's my job to follow the energy of piece. To let that energy flow through and to work it until it dissipates and finally to withhold judgement. It's hubris to think I know the purpose of a piece, whether one single person is meant to be moved or many, whether it is about changing some stuck energy, or even bringing something new into the world. How can anyone presume to really know the impact of the footprints they leave on earth? This is heavy training for the ego which wants everything to make it look good. It is also a deep lesson in detachment. It is common for artists to identify so closely with their own work that it is hard to let it go out into the world and face judgement. Detachment allows an artist to let work go with blessings. The key is to keep working and know your work has meaning in the world that you will likely never know. This is the promise of creativity, the gift of The Artist to the artist. So, as much as I hated posting my weeks of hospital prints, my faith in the process and unknowable purpose of working kept me dutifully doing my job and I am grateful for such a job (even though there has been more than a little grumbling of late!). xoxo

acceptance, Monotype of the Day #259

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Yesterday was a tough day, but I’m home! It’s going to take some time to recover but I’ll get there. Sometimes patience and acceptance are required to undergo a difficult passage....This is another one of my favorite poems. Decay and breaking of old structures are sometimes a necessary for new life.


Root Cellar
by Theodore Roethke


Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch,
Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark,
Shoots dangled and drooped,
Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates,
Hung down long yellow evil necks, like tropical snakes.
And what a congress of stinks!
Roots ripe as old bait,
Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich,
Leaf-mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks.
Nothing would give up life:
Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath

the ocean of tears, Monotype of the Day #258

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The Heat of Midnight Tears
by Mirabai (English version by Robert Bly)

Listen, my friend, this road is the heart opening,
Kissing his feet, resistance broken, tears all night.

If we could reach the Lord through immersion in water,
I would have asked to be born a fish in this life.
If we could reach Him through nothing but berries and wild nuts,
Then surely the saints would have been monkeys when they came from the womb!
If we could reach him by munching lettuce and dry leaves,
Then the goats would surely go to the Holy One before us!

If the worship of stone statues could bring us all the way,
I would have adored a granite mountain years ago.

Mirabai says: The heat of midnight tears will bring you to God.

http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Poets/M/Mirabai/Heatof/index.html

the artist in a bottle, Monotype of the Day #257

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Hospital stay 2- print 5

Between the form of Life and Life
by Emily Dickinson
Between the form of Life and Life
The difference is as big
As Liquor at the Lip between
And Liquor in the Jug
The latter -- excellent to keep --
But for ecstatic need
The corkless is superior --
I know for I have tried

http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Poets/D/DickinsonEmi/Betweenformo/index.html

Possible release tomorrow. Keep you fingers crossed! 🤞🤞🤞

Feeling Fishy, Monotype of the Day #253

So I’m back in the hospital but I’m finally feeling good again after a month. They seem to have me sorted out. Looking forward to getting back to my studio and life! It’s the strangest thing, I was making my print, ink all over my hands, and the nurse and the nursing assistant came in and didn’t even ask! So funny. Thanks for all your support this month! Xoxo