Face and Bright Heart

another piece from the sketchbook...

Pen Tuh Paper

Aye


Check out the newish poem Untame Things, on "Pen tuh Paper" a very cool poetry blog:) And submit, why don't you?

On Portraits

Portraits frighten me a little, if that makes any sense. There is something uncanny and unsettling about seeing a face, particularly a loved one's face, emerging from the seemingly random splotches of colour on the page. It is eerily intense to sit and stare at the contours of someone's mouth, someone's eyes. And to render truthfully is devastating... but it is even more difficult to render while imparting some of one's own energy. Difficult, and a bit frightening, yes. And when it fails... agonizing. But, as I've rediscovered, it can also be sensuous and quieting and therapeutic.

I started with my own face, I suppose, because it's mine to ruin and make an unflattering mess of, if it came to that. But I feel as though I ended up somehow capturing the slightly lost and half-wild energy that is masked so easily in photos. 

Strange. 

Staring at my own rendition of myself is doubly strange. I experienced this remarkable sense of confrontation. I am not sure whether to run from it or be thrilled by it.

The funny thing is, I continue my 'portraiting' with images of my boyfriend and others near to me, and each one possesses such a strikingly different energy to it.

I intend to keep working on portraits throughout the following weeks, it is actually all practice for a commissioned project in watercolours that's coming up. There is spilled paintwater everywhere, and I couldn't be happier. 

Be well,

~D

Wondering, and the Water Woman

There is an immense quiet about this that I swear I did not put there myself.

I was browsing through an album of recent pieces, and this one really stopped me up short, got me thinking about so many things. What control do we have of these things in the first place, these things of our own hands that startle us and bring us face to face with our most secret of selves?  What are we doing, what drives us when we feel the need to create? And if we knew just what we were doing, would it still be such a thing of mystery and depth?

I don't mind the unknowing though. It's beautiful. :)

Surprise yourself.

~D

all our crossings...

http://031a9f6.netsolhost.com/WordPress/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/in-the-spirit-catalogue.pdf

I was just revisiting the catalogue for the In The Spirit Exhibition held in June (link to catalogue above) which one of my poems was featured at. This is far too interesting not to share.

The poem itself is below:

Crossing

Tell me, what do you keep

in your green glass heart?

What salvaged ice from forgotten moons,

what rusted joints thrown up

from the wrecked night

of your wanting?

And when the tides of your sleep ebb,

what masks permit you

to cross the continent of waking?

Whose arboreal arms will bear you

beyond these highways of stolen sand

and purpling death?

Ours is a dwelling you have found

too broken for words.

You must plant this poem

slowly

when you find home.

Alchemy of Consent

http://womenspeak.tumblr.com/post/9120613294/danielle-boodoo-fortune-is-a-poet-and-artist-from#en


Was thrilled to have the opportunity to be part of the WomenSpeak Project's Sex and Consent Series!
Check it out, nah.

Rediscovering Pieces...

I've been sorting through some old pieces lately. It's interesting... feels almost like rediscovering something missed and treasured, like bouncing up dear old friends:).

It strikes me now that I had a bit of an obsession with strong, fierce female characters, like those in the pieces below. The idea is definitely something I've been playing with all along, but now approach in a subtler way. I think of myself in my secondary school days, scribbling away absently in some corner, and wonder if perhaps that type of strength and determination wasn't something I was trying to create for myself through these characters. Or perhaps each one of these characters is really one of my inside selves:)... I think I like that possibility. 

In any case, they are interesting pieces. Even now, almost ten years later, they still resonate with me quite strongly.

Hope they speak to you too!!

~D

This last piece in charcoal now belongs to Tisha Marajh... hope she will bring quiet strength and a fighting spirit....