Poet's Corner

The Poets Corner

10/1/2021

October traditionally starts with harvest and ends with the mystery of travel “between the worlds” — or, as I like to put it, “among the worlds.” Who’s to say there are only two?

There are even pictures of people harvesting words! How is that possible? In medieval Europe there was a character named Titivillus, who went around with a basket sweeping up syllables of words spoken carelessly, dropped thoughtlessly, or skipped over. Manuscript pictures show Titivillus collecting letters in his basket — big letters like those on movie theater marquees. Near him there are people sweeping streets and sidewalks, or tending fruit and veggie plots around town squares.

Let’s bring Titivillus into our orbits. He’s happy to dump out his basket so we can, more or less at random, pick out some letters. Letters spell words. Words rhyme. But not all words that rhyme are spelled as similarly as they sound. Rhyme and time, for example. Maybe we see spelling variation as a crime. Could we mime, like in charades? In cultures where people do a lot of story telling, people rhyme time and fine. The vowel -- i — is the same, and the consonants — m and n — are both what linguists call “liquids,” that is, they can flow to go on for as long as a breath holds. Words with one identical sound and a two similar sounds “feel” like rhymes and appeal to our ears.

Try Titivillus’s harvest of letters. Turn the harvest into whatever you’d like. By Halloween you may have a few tricks and treats of sound to share.

August 19th, 2021

8/19/2021

The Poets Corner

Recently, a friend called me up in distress — she was planning to do an astrology reading for someone and she needed a reminder of a quote from a philosophy book, but she couldn’t find her copy — could I read it to her? The topic she wanted to be reminded of was “balance,” and a particular author’s take on it. I read her the chapter (all 13 pages of it!) and we stopped every so often to comment on this point or that.

The call took an hour and a half, divided into two. What we realized after we had finished was that reading out loud, and stopping to respond to a thought when we felt like it, was enormously beneficial. It wasn’t like reading to ourselves or listening to someone else reading. It was a truly interactive activity.

The experience put me in mind of reading poetry — reading it out loud, even when we are reading only to ourselves. Sound bounces off the walls, floors, and ceilings as we use our voices. At the same time, we often prefer things in short gulps. Here are a few.

Following is a poem by painter and writer, Anna Ruth Uelsmann Kipping. It my absolutely favorite short poem.

The sickle moon
Needled by the pine.

Read it out loud. Read it over and over. Read it during the daylight and at night.

And here is my favorite translation of what is said to be the most famous Japanese haiku, Basho’s frog poem. The following is Allen Ginsberg’s translation, from the website “Matsuo Basho’s Frog Haiku (30 translations).” Check it out. Matsuo Basho's Frog Haiku (30 translations) http://www.bopsecrets.org › passages › basho-frog

The old pond
A frog jumped in,
Kerplunk!

And here is a short poem of mine.

A striking red dot
On bright green lily leaves
Turns out to be an aphid.

Find your own fave rave short poems or short quotes and read them out loud. Read them to the morning sun, as Dylan Thomas’s Reverend Eli Jenkins did. Read them to the Moon if you wake up in the middle of the night.

For something new (and old) find a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses and read one out loud. (Project Gutenberg has an online text.) There are universals in this collection, and also entries that show how times have changed since the book was published in 1885. “The Swing” holds its own, though.

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside —

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown —
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

As Duke Ellington liked to say, “The rhythm, rhy — thm!”

Tanya Joyce
Painter, Poet, Pinole Artisan
tanya@tanyajoyce.com
www.tanyajoyce.com

Hi All,
I’m not sure if a Poets Corner column is wanted for the September Newsletter or not. Whenever it is needed is fine with me.
Stay well, and thanks for all your efforts,
Tanya
************************************************

The Poets Corner

Recently, a friend called me up in distress — she was planning to do an astrology reading for someone and she needed a reminder of a quote from a philosophy book, but she couldn’t find her copy — could I read it to her? The topic she wanted to be reminded of was “balance,” and a particular author’s take on it. I read her the chapter (all 13 pages of it!) and we stopped every so often to comment on this point or that.

The call took an hour and a half, divided into two. What we realized after we had finished was that reading out loud, and stopping to respond to a thought when we felt like it, was enormously beneficial. It wasn’t like reading to ourselves or listening to someone else reading. It was a truly interactive activity.

The experience put me in mind of reading poetry — reading it out loud, even when we are reading only to ourselves. Sound bounces off the walls, floors, and ceilings as we use our voices. At the same time, we often prefer things in short gulps. Here are a few.

Following is a poem by painter and writer, Anna Ruth Uelsmann Kipping. It my absolutely favorite short poem.

The sickle moon
Needled by the pine.

Read it out loud. Read it over and over. Read it during the daylight and at night.

And here is my favorite translation of what is said to be the most famous Japanese haiku, Basho’s frog poem. The following is Allen Ginsberg’s translation, from the website “Matsuo Basho’s Frog Haiku (30 translations).” Check it out.   Matsuo Basho's Frog Haiku (30 translations)  http://www.bopsecrets.org › passages › basho-frog

The old pond
A frog jumped in,
Kerplunk!

And here is a short poem of mine.

A striking red dot
On bright green lily leaves
Turns out to be an aphid.

Find your own fave rave short poems or short quotes and read them out loud. Read them to the morning sun, as Dylan Thomas’s Reverend Eli Jenkins did. Read them to the Moon if you wake up in the middle of the night.

For something new (and old) find a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses and read one out loud. (Project Gutenberg has an online text.) There are universals in this collection, and also entries that show how times have changed since the book was published in 1885. “The Swing” holds its own, though.

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside —

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown —
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

As Duke Ellington liked to say, “The rhythm, r
hy — thm!”

Tanya Joyce
Painter, Poet, Pinole Artisan
tanya@tanyajoyce.com
www.tanyajoyce.com

Hi All,
I’m not sure if a Poets Corner column is wanted for the September Newsletter or not. Whenever it is needed is fine with me.
Stay well, and thanks for all your efforts,
Tanya
************************************************

The Poets Corner

Recently, a friend called me up in distress — she was planning to do an astrology reading for someone and she needed a reminder of a quote from a philosophy book, but she couldn’t find her copy — could I read it to her? The topic she wanted to be reminded of was “balance,” and a particular author’s take on it. I read her the chapter (all 13 pages of it!) and we stopped every so often to comment on this point or that.

The call took an hour and a half, divided into two. What we realized after we had finished was that reading out loud, and stopping to respond to a thought when we felt like it, was enormously beneficial. It wasn’t like reading to ourselves or listening to someone else reading. It was a truly interactive activity.

The experience put me in mind of reading poetry — reading it out loud, even when we are reading only to ourselves. Sound bounces off the walls, floors, and ceilings as we use our voices. At the same time, we often prefer things in short gulps. Here are a few.

Following is a poem by painter and writer, Anna Ruth Uelsmann Kipping. It my absolutely favorite short poem.

The sickle moon
Needled by the pine.

Read it out loud. Read it over and over. Read it during the daylight and at night.

And here is my favorite translation of what is said to be the most famous Japanese haiku, Basho’s frog poem. The following is Allen Ginsberg’s translation, from the website “Matsuo Basho’s Frog Haiku (30 translations).” Check it out.   Matsuo Basho's Frog Haiku (30 translations)  http://www.bopsecrets.org › passages › basho-frog

The old pond
A frog jumped in,
Kerplunk!

And here is a short poem of mine.

A striking red dot
On bright green lily leaves
Turns out to be an aphid.

Find your own fave rave short poems or short quotes and read them out loud. Read them to the morning sun, as Dylan Thomas’s Reverend Eli Jenkins did. Read them to the Moon if you wake up in the middle of the night.

For something new (and old) find a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses and read one out loud. (Project Gutenberg has an online text.) There are universals in this collection, and also entries that show how times have changed since the book was published in 1885. “The Swing” holds its own, though.

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside —

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown —
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

As Duke Ellington liked to say, “The rhythm, r
hy — thm!”

Tanya Joyce
Painter, Poet, Pinole Artisan
tanya@tanyajoyce.com
www.tanyajoyce.com

Hi All,
I’m not sure if a Poets Corner column is wanted for the September Newsletter or not. Whenever it is needed is fine with me.
Stay well, and thanks for all your efforts,
Tanya
************************************************

The Poets Corner

Recently, a friend called me up in distress — she was planning to do an astrology reading for someone and she needed a reminder of a quote from a philosophy book, but she couldn’t find her copy — could I read it to her? The topic she wanted to be reminded of was “balance,” and a particular author’s take on it. I read her the chapter (all 13 pages of it!) and we stopped every so often to comment on this point or that.

The call took an hour and a half, divided into two. What we realized after we had finished was that reading out loud, and stopping to respond to a thought when we felt like it, was enormously beneficial. It wasn’t like reading to ourselves or listening to someone else reading. It was a truly interactive activity.

The experience put me in mind of reading poetry — reading it out loud, even when we are reading only to ourselves. Sound bounces off the walls, floors, and ceilings as we use our voices. At the same time, we often prefer things in short gulps. Here are a few.

Following is a poem by painter and writer, Anna Ruth Uelsmann Kipping. It my absolutely favorite short poem.

The sickle moon
Needled by the pine.

Read it out loud. Read it over and over. Read it during the daylight and at night.

And here is my favorite translation of what is said to be the most famous Japanese haiku, Basho’s frog poem. The following is Allen Ginsberg’s translation, from the website “Matsuo Basho’s Frog Haiku (30 translations).” Check it out.   Matsuo Basho's Frog Haiku (30 translations)  http://www.bopsecrets.org › passages › basho-frog

The old pond
A frog jumped in,
Kerplunk!

And here is a short poem of mine.

A striking red dot
On bright green lily leaves
Turns out to be an aphid.

Find your own fave rave short poems or short quotes and read them out loud. Read them to the morning sun, as Dylan Thomas’s Reverend Eli Jenkins did. Read them to the Moon if you wake up in the middle of the night.

For something new (and old) find a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses and read one out loud. (Project Gutenberg has an online text.) There are universals in this collection, and also entries that show how times have changed since the book was published in 1885. “The Swing” holds its own, though.

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside —

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown —
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

As Duke Ellington liked to say, “The rhythm, r
hy — thm!”

Tanya Joyce
Painter, Poet, Pinole Artisan
tanya@tanyajoyce.com
www.tanyajoyce.com

June 20th, 2021

6/20/2021

The Poets Corner

July is a good month to take a few books to the back yard, the beach, or to a mountain top. Maybe not even books we are fond of. Simply a few books we have not looked at for a while.

I picked out four. Haven’t looked at any of them for at least a few years. One I thought was a couple of years old came out in 2009! As it happened, two of the books I chose are by women and two by men. I liked that.

I’ll start with the 2009 publication, Judy Hardin Cheung’s Heritage Comes From The World. Here’s the start of Judy’s poem “Contemplating Realities.” Judy is a photographer as well as a poet — a “poetographer" as she styles herself. This poem is accompanied by the photo Judy took of a lotus in bloom in Guan Dong, China.

I am a poet covered with rose petals
writing of lotus blossoms
and love in exotic places.
In a half-tranced state of creativity
I drift in and out of roses and lotus,
around and into dreamwake.

Poems often invent words. There is a kind of freedom in poetry that seems to encourage invention. Translation also encourages invention, since what is easy to express in one language is not necessarily easy in another. Here is a poem by multilingual author and painter, Dr. Kenneth Kuanling Fan. It’s from his Poetic Painting Anthology, a pocket size book of poems in Chinese and English, each with a painting beside it. Dr. Fan’s painting for this poem shows a snowy peak and an unusual sky with wet brushstrokes that could be rising mist or the aurora borealis.

Clouds,
Where do you go?
The snowy top
Or the valley Fog

Owing much to what we generally call the haiku tradition, this poem of Dr. Fan’s benefits from reading or reciting several times, thinking of mountain scenery — winter or summer, Sierras, the coast range, local hills,

Bay Area Poet Avotcja (pronounced Ah-votcha) reads with jazz as well as reading her poetry a cappella. (I’m playing a bit fast and loose with the term “a cappella,” as meaning “solo,” because Avotcja’s breath pauses when she reads aloud suggest music by their beat.)

Here are some lines from Avotcja’s poem “Ancestral Reflections," which starts by calling in the spirits of thirty-five ancestors, people who have passed, two of whom I was fortunate enough to meet.

Can you feel them???
Ancestral suggestion trying to guide us
They’re everywhere
Walking through us, right beside us
Got the intensity of their legacy in everything
All over our stuff
They’re in us, with us
All the time
Our Ancestors never sleep
They want us to know all they’ve ever known
Been trying to show the way so we don’t have to fall
They need us to feel them
Won’t let us go til we let them know we need them
There’s still too much work that has to be done
They’ve got their busy fingers in all our business
Whether we want them there or not
. . . . .
Feel them . . . they’re here

May 18th, 2021

5/18/2021

The Poets Coner
June is busting’ out all over!! Moon, croon, toon, soon, boon, loon — OMG!

In this weather, we could make poems out of anything!

How about it?

OMG
Oh-M gee [as in whizz]
Ji [Hindi and Urdu honorific — gender neutral, too!]
The Wiz
Oh humm
Set to music

Something more traditional? This occurred to me over lunch an hour ago:

night comes
crickets
summer

Short poems seem to fit the season. This column has talked before about haiku form from Japanese poetry. A haiku has 3 lines, the first line with 5 syllables, the second with 7 syllables, and the third with 5. The number of syllables comes to us from Japanese tradition — and the forms of Japanese language. Japanese language does not use “articles" but in English, it is often awkward to leave out words like “the,” “an,” and “a,” so our haiku syllable count goes up with very little poetic “punch” — no image, no special sound, and so forth. Furthermore, Japanese language does not use personal pronouns. Our use of personal pronouns often takes up haiku syllables without adding images or new-and-exciting sounds to a haiku. Plus, we’re encouraged to go easy on “I” and “me” or other words that put ego out in front of image or thought. YIKES!! What’s a poet to do?

A creative answer comes from Sacramento in the form of “Brevities: A Mini-Mag of Minimalist Poems,” edited by Joyce Odam and co-editor, Robin Gale Odam. “Brevities” celebrated its 200th issue in November-December 2020! The issues include short poems from all over the country. The “Mini-Mag” is, true to form, 3 5/8 inches by 4 1/4 inches, plus original art on the cover and textured, colored end papers.

In addition to the poetry, “Brevities” includes poetic forms to try out. Some of the forms presented are traditional, others are new. So here are a couple to try out this month under the June Moon or Fun Sun — or — any place, any time.

Issue 198 includes the “Minute,” a poetic form of 60 iambic syllables in three stanzas, each stanza starting with an 8 syllable line, followed by three 4 syllable lines. The rhyme scheme is aabb, ccdd, eeff.

If you’re generally a fan of free verse, here are a couple of definitions that might clear up questions about more formal poem styles. “Iambic” means that syllables are tapped out ta-DUM, ta-DUM, ta-DUM, a pattern of the way we raise and lower our feet to tap out rhythm to music. “Iambic” comes from Greek “iambus” meaning “lampoon,” because iambic rhythm was used by ancient Greek satirists in composing verbal attacks.

There was
A guy
[or gal]
Back home
With little
Under
His [or her] dome.

(The line “With little” has three syllables — variety helps!)

Issue 200 of “Brevities” suggests a form of "Found Poem: A type of poetry created by taking words and phrases from other sources, such as articles, lists, documents, and even other literary works, and presenting them to impart new meaning."

As an example, Joyce and Robin created this poem from a list of titles.

THE CITY TREES
Hush —
the birds of sleep
in their deep trees,
the green secrets,
the nudging breezes,
the watchful movement
of the leaves . . . hush.

For more information on “Brevities” contact:

Brevities: A Mini-Mag of Minimalist Poems
Editor: Joyce Odam
2432 48th Avenue
Sacramento, CA 95822-3809
joyceofwords@gmail.com

Have a poetic June!

Tanya Joyce
Painter, Poet, Pinole Artisan
www.tanyajoyce.com
tanya@tanyajoyce.com

May 05th, 2021

5/5/2021

April has risen to prominence as National Poetry Month, but there’s no need to put our poetry books and notebooks away any time soon! There’s a huge amount of poetry for May, largely, I assume, because many of our poetic traditions come from northern regions in which spring wasn’t sprung until May. The “Lilac Time” celebration at Lilacia Park in Lombard, Illinois is going on right now, about twenty miles west of Chicago.

I grew up in northern Vermont where we waited yet another month for lilacs. If they were in bloom by the day school let out — around June 21 — I could lie in bed with my windows open and smell the lilacs in our yard! By then, June was really bustin’ out all over!

Here in California, spring has been happening for quite a while. Green hills, blue echium and ceanothus, wisteria, iris, fruit tree flowers, fresh kale, maybe the last of the lemons, limes, and oranges. And, I heard at the Pinole Artisans Gallery a while back, at least one family in the area has home grown dragon fruit!

With the rain slacking off early this year, we may soon be propelled into a dryer season. All the more reason to make sure we have some time for rhyme, for writing a line, for being kind to ourselves. Let’s start with sitting in the shade with our feet up, a cool or warm drink in hand, a snack within arm’s reach — healthy snacks are fine, mind you. It all serves to get the creative juices flowing.

Last month Eric Carlstrom sent the following. It has some fun, some provocative notes, and comments from photographer-poet-hair stylist Angel. Here goes the multi-faceted art.

There’s a bone in the beans and buds on the lengua.

The winds
The winds
They sing
And sing
And bring
About
All the chaos
Every sting
Soothing breeze
Wafting air
Of
Everything

Two small thoughts she [Angel] had written down and just shared with me [Eric].

************************

Anegel says
“Lol, my permission is granted…with glee”

“When True North eludes you,
Go East” -Angel

Eric

****************************

Angel’s Preview of April Column

Classy Dame

Fabulous!! I love this

It’s a short lesson
in poetry

So right on
(tan thumbs up)

Right up my alley in so
many ways
(blue thumbs up)

I learned stuff from it

(blue thumbs up)

I’ve never been one to

A a

Let what you have just read mean the evening breeze as you sit comfy in the May days haze. Use a preposition as a whole line.

Let time escape. Listen for birdsong. Does that car passing sound like it still has snow tires on? Maybe spring skiing.

Maybe letting the wind blow. Maybe letting the day go, the sunset glow, the tunes you know play in a new key, May BE!

Tanya Joyce
Poet, Painter, Pinole Artisan

March 25th, 2021

3/25/2021

The Poets Corner

A few days ago a friend asked me what are the three top things I would say to someone who wants to learn to write haiku. This happens to be a topic I have been thinking about recently, so I dove right in with responses.

First, I said, forget about the form of 3 lines with five syllables, seven syllables, and five syllables.

She was shocked! Really? How come?

The number of syllables per line — 5, 7, 5 — is appropriate to the structure of Japanese language. English is in a different language family. The language is structured differently. So, do something short, quick, and compact, but you do not need to count syllables.

Next, close all the haiku books you have or change your computer screen so you are not looking at haiku. It is something inside yourself you will be writing about, not something someone else has done.

Third, get rid of pronouns such as “I,” “me,” “myself.” What you will be writing about is setting a scene for your reader to experience something. Instead of references to what you, the poet, have experienced, keep two things from Japanese haiku tradition. One of them is to be sure to include a season word in each poem.

Season word?

I don’t mean you need to include the words spring, summer, fall, or winter, but include something that evokes a season for a reader. At this time of year, you might mention plum blossoms, or here in California, quince blossoms. Something that blooms in the season related to your poem. Sierra snowstorm. Sharing citrus fruit. Green hillsides. California poppies.

And one last part of that third step about "what to keep and what to get rid of” — include some kind of twist in the third line, something unexpected.

As an example, I used Allen Ginsberg’s translation of Basho’s frog poem — one of Basho’s most well known haiku.

Ginsberg:

The old pond
A frog jumped in,
Kerplunk!

For my money, that translation is the best!

Here’s Alan Watts’ version:

The old pond,
A frog jumps in:
Plop!

Falls flat next to Ginsberg, in my opinion.

Former U.S. Poet Laureate, Robert Hass, translated the poem this way:

The old pond --
a frog jumps in,
sound of water.

Then the friend who asked the question told me she wants to write a haiku for her sister’s birthday. Her sister is 80 this year. The sister who wants to write a haiku is sending the birthday girl 10 roses for each of eight months. She is now on month two, so she has a while to work on it.

It is no easy matter. Sometimes I just give up on haiku and write “short poems.” Alameda poet laureate, Mary Rudge, took me to task for calling the book I edited Tarot Haiku, since few of the poems in that collection stick to traditional haiku form. Mary wouldn’t even go for the term “American Haiku,” though it has been around at least since Jack Kerouac was writing in the 1950s.

Here are two of Kerouac’s short poems that capture the haiku spirit.

frozen
in the birdbath
A leaf

Missing a kick
at the icebox door
It closed anyway.

For me, there is no topic that this style of poetry cannot address. In the Japanese originals, there are descriptive categories — comic short poems, for example, are not in the same category as “haiku,” so, from that perspective, the two Kerouac poems above would be in different categories.

Then there was Jean Fisk’s wonderful evening of painting and poetry together inspired by Japanese poetic form. With examples from her students as background, Jean encouraged us to write on drawings and small paintings — ours of someone else’s. I wrote a poem on a sketch by Semion Mirkin. I liked the drawing (moonlight and cattails). I liked my poem.

From the perspective of what Jean was teaching us, however, my poem did not fly. It included the word “I.” It wouldn’t do. Jean was firm. My poem had too much “I”. Jean had pointed out the all too common problem of too much poet intruding in the poem.

I still like the poem I wrote that night and I still like Semion’s drawing — and I’m still learning from that evening.

Tanya Joyce
Painter, Poet, Pinole Artisan
tanya@tanyajoyce.com
www.tanyajoyce.com

March 01st, 2021

3/1/2021

My February 5 presentation at the Pinole Artisans monthly meeting continues to go around in my mind. The Zoom interaction with others kept me on my toes and the emphasis on discovery through finishing up old sketches and using paint that would otherwise dry up and be wasted continues to keep me finding unfinished projects to get done. But what does that have to do with poetry?

In many historic times and in cultures around the world, words and pictures have been used together. In some places they still are. In our society, words and pictures gradually separated so that when I was in college I was faced with chapter after chapter of monotony. Even early printings of the Gutenberg Bible left space for beautifully illuminated capital letters, most with vignettes of daily life worked in.

But somewhere along the line, I was taught that pictures were for “baby books,” and that when I "grew up” I’d learn to read without the “need” of pictures.

Baloney!

Pictures and words go together like coffee and doughnuts, ice cream and cake, salad and garlic bread, udon and shrimp, sizzling rice and bok choy, green eggs and ham!

Travel books are a great example. What would they be without the photos? All our “how to” books use pictures and diagrams (sometimes more convenient than an online tutorial).

What I’m very interested in is art in which words and pictures are closely connected. A visual image is not illustrating a text — the two are part and parcel of each other. The best example I can think of is Chinese and Japanese ink painting where a group of words directly connects with a visual image. In medieval Europe, visual images in books also linked with texts, slowing a reader down, encouraging thought and asking people to linger over a page.

Much the same encouragement to slow down and focus is implied in calligraphic text in large letters around the domes of Moslem houses of prayer. In Moslem cultures, as well as in Central Europe and Africa, exteriors of buildings are decorated with images and designs that encourage us to slow down and give conscious attention to what we are looking at.

I once had the opportunity to see this interaction between word and picture happen before my eyes at the original University Art Museum in Berkeley. (Please bear with me if you’ve heard me go on about this experience on another occasion.)

The Museum had an exhibit of Chinese calligraphy from different historic periods, some of it quite old. Calligraphers gave live demonstrations during the show. The wonderful open architecture of the museum interior allowed people to look down from multiple levels to watch the demonstrations and see the exhibited work at the same time.

One of the calligraphers was my Tai Chi master, Li Li-Da. He said in Tai Chi class that he had not done calligraphy in a while and was looking forward to the opportunity. When his table was set up and he was to begin, I noticed he was uncharacteristically hesitant. His hand even shook! I had never seen his fingers shake before! All the same, Li Li-Da began his brushwork. I could tell it was hesitant. He even dropped a few blobs of ink that it was clear he had not intended to do!

What could save this lack luster demonstration? The poem he wrote transcended every hesitation and all the blobs.

The poem was in Chinese. Li Li-Da translated it for the audience. His translation was something like this:

Surrounded by masters,
Humbled by their excellence,
My hand trembles at the power
On the walls in front of me.
Yet something in the ink strokes
Leads me on.

Not only had Li Li-Da “recovered” from what was clearly unintentional, he himself had mastered the situation!

A lot of art in any medium is like that. The moment we feel blocked is the moment to go on.

Bob Ross does this by blending. If something in our art is not the way we want it — blend it in!

The new, maverick HBO series by musician-painter John Lurie, “Painting with John,” takes another direction. Starting out with a kudo of sorts to Bob Ross, “Bob Ross was wrong: not every tree is a happy tree,” Lurie shows what he is doing in close up after close up. His medium is gouache (pronounced in one syllable sort of like gah-wash). It is an opaque watercolor that Laurie lets you see over and over. The camera focuses on how the paint actually acts and how different brushes help create differing forms. As he paints, Lurie talks about everything except what he is doing and claims there is nothing to learn from him. He’s sarcastic, caustic, and generous.

Take a few drawings or paintings you are just about ready to throw out — or some full size sheets from a local newspaper that is almost ready to recycle. Paint something simple and big over the images. Maybe the word BIG. Or BIG. Or BIG! Or BIG! The visual impact is at least a little bit different with each size of text or color or form. And the text is brief enough to leave time to mull it over.

February 16th, 2021

2/16/2021

My February 5 presentation at the Pinole Artisans monthly meeting continues to go around in my mind. The Zoom interaction with others kept me on my toes and the emphasis on discovery through finishing up old sketches and using paint that would otherwise dry up and be be wasted continues to keep me finding unfinished projects to get done. But what does that have to do with poetry?

In many historic times and in cultures around the world, words and pictures have been used together. In some places they still are. In our society, words and pictures gradually separated so that when I was in college I was faced with chapter after chapter of monotony. Even early printings of the Gutenberg Bible left space for beautifully illuminated capital letters, most with vignettes of daily life worked in.

But somewhere along the line, I was taught that pictures were for “baby books,” and that when I "grew up” I’d learn to read without the “need” of pictures.

Baloney!

Pictures and words go together like coffee and doughnuts, ice cream and cake, salad and garlic bread, udon and shrimp, sizzling rice and bok choy, green eggs and ham!

Travel books are a great example. What would they be without the photos? All our “how to” books use pictures and diagrams (sometimes more convenient than an online tutorial).

What I’m very interested in is art in which words and pictures are closely connected. A visual image is not illustrating a text — the two are part and parcel of each other. The best example I can think of is Chinese and Japanese ink painting where a group of words directly connects with a visual image. In medieval Europe, visual images in books also linked with texts, slowing a reader down, encouraging thought and asking people to linger over a page.

Much the same encouragement to slow down and focus is implied in calligraphic text in large letters around the domes of Moslem houses of prayer. In Moslem cultures, as well as in Central Europe and Africa, exteriors of buildings are decorated with images and designs that encourage us to slow down and give conscious attention to what we are looking at.

I once had the opportunity to see this interaction between word and picture happen before my eyes at the original University Art Museum in Berkeley. (Please bear with me if you’ve heard me go on about this experience on another occasion.)

The Museum had an exhibit of Chinese calligraphy from different historic periods, some of it quite old. Calligraphers gave live demonstrations during the show. The wonderful open architecture of the museum interior allowed people to look down from multiple levels to watch the demonstrations and see the exhibited work at the same time.

One of the calligraphers was my Tai Chi master, Li Li-Da. He said in Tai Chi class that he had not done calligraphy in a while and was looking forward to the opportunity. When his table was set up and he was to begin, I noticed he was uncharacteristically hesitant. His hand even shook! I had never seen his fingers shake before! All the same, Li Li-Da began his brushwork. I could tell it was hesitant. He even dropped a few blobs of ink that it was clear he had not intended to do!

What could save this lack luster demonstration? The poem he wrote transcended every hesitation and all the blobs.

The poem was in Chinese. Li Li-Da translated it for the audience. His translation was something like this:

Surrounded by masters,
Humbled by their excellence,
My hand trembles at the power
On the walls in front of me.
Yet something i n the ink strokes
Leads me on.

Not only had Li Li-Da “recovered” from what was clearly unintentional, he himself had mastered the situation!

A lot of art in any medium is like that. The moment we feel blocked is the moment to go on.

Bob Ross does this by blending. If something in our art is not the way we want it — blend it in!

The new, maverick HBO series by musician-painter John Lurie, “Painting with John,” takes another direction. Starting out with a kudo of sorts to Bob Ross, “Bob Ross was wrong: not every tree is a happy tree,” Lurie shows what he is doing in close up after close up. His medium is gouache (pronounced in one syllable sort of like gah-wash). It is an opaque watercolor that Laurie lets you see over and over. The camera focuses on how the paint actually acts and how different brushes help create differing forms. As he paints, Lurie talks about everything except what he is doing and claims there is nothing to learn from him. He’s sarcastic, caustic, and generous.

Take a few drawings or paintings you are just about ready to throw out — or some full size sheets from a local newspaper that is almost ready to recycle. Paint something simple and big over the images. Maybe the word BIG. Or BIG. Or BIG! Or BIG! The visual impact is at least a little bit different with each size of text or color or form. And the text is brief enough to leave time to mull it over.

Tanya Joyce
Painter, Poet, Pinole Artisan

January 20th, 2021

1/20/2021

The Poets Corner

This month we’re in for a change. This column gives some idea of my upcoming presentation at the February 2021 Zoom Monthly Meeting of Pinole Artisans on Friday, February 5, at 7pm. After our business meeting, which goes from around 7pm to 7:30, my presentation – a paint along, if you wish – is about getting more familiar with art materials. I’ll use watercolor mostly, with some ideas about acrylics. Drawing media are welcome as well.

Overview
I’m a big fan of Bob Ross’s public television “Joy of Painting” series. His programs are upbeat, direct, and he talks about his palette.

Often, I hear people say, “Bob Ross’s shows are great, but my painting doesn’t come out looking like his.”

Why? Mostly it’s because we aren’t as familiar with our materials as Bob Ross is with his.

This presentation is about getting to know our palettes more deeply.

Watercolor – Flushed Color
We’ll do a bit of “wet into wet” “Flushed Color.” No brushstrokes necessary! 1. Wet a piece of watercolor paper – or even 8 ½” x 11” paper. 2. Rub a brush around in a color – any color – enough to get a brushful. Hold the brush over the paper and squeeze until a blob of color lands on the paper. Do this with several colors. 3. Then tip the paper this way and that until the colors run. Watch what happens. You’ll like the way some colors run together and not others. That’s the point. Seeing what happens. That’s getting to know materials.

Later, your Flushed Color sheets can find their ways into other uses, too.

Watercolor – Portraits
We’ll look at colors for portraits – like the Italian masters used to do. Five colors, no precision needed. We’ll start with a Smiley Face or the face of a Laurel Burch cat.

Watercolor – Dirty Palette
Don’t clean your palette. Here’s why. If you have drawings, even fine line drawings you plan to “get around to one of these days,” they can be quickly enriched and finished with a dirty palette. What??!!

Mix up some color from your palette (it doesn’t have to be totally dirty).

Take a large brush, a brush made for acrylics, something that’s “not conventional” for this purpose. Swirl a brushful of a color you don’t expect over the forms you have drawn or sketched. Maybe add one color for highlights. This works! It adds power in the brushstrokes and color distinguishes major parts of your composition from others.

Color swatches
Make color swatches. Why? I’ll propose some answers.

Acrylic – projects and hints
A big problem with acrylics is that you cannot rewet them once they dry. You can slow down the drying, but you can still end up with useful paint without a purpose. I’ll have examples of some things to do with leftover acrylics – and they’re good for kids and grandkids, too.

Paint cardboard boxes (There is an abundance these days due to home delivery.) Create words and love notes on paper bags. I have a paper bag ready to paint that says Poetry Poesie Pohm. Make faces and figures out of plastic containers. PAINT CLOTHES and SHOES. Acrylics are washable and can go in the clothes dryer – I avoid the “hot” setting.

Sit and Look
Bill Moyers asked Sister Wendy Beckett how she learned so much about art. “Well, Bill, I looked,” was her reply.

If you’re tired and don’t feel like painting – go outdoors. Take some of your own art with you. Sit and look. And look more. And keep looking. When we do that we are in harmony with all the artists that have ever been from every culture. We develop friends through the ages. And we learn about our own work at the same time.

December 22nd, 2020

12/22/2020

In the days before airplanes, trains, buses, and cars It took longer to get from place to place than it does now, even for intrepid people. The December and June solstices were times of big travel for major celebrations. We’re not sure just what the celebrations consisted of, but people were flexible about when they arrived and how long they stayed. We know something about this from what recent archaeology is showing they left behind.

Even in Medieval England, a time we have quite a bit of writing from, December solstice holidays tended to last from more or less the December solstice (December 21 or 22) to more or less January 6. So relax. Put your feet up. If it’s chilly, an extra pair of socks might be good, like the ones I just put on to write this column!

Today, in traditions that come mainly from northern Europe, Dec 24 and 25, plus Dec. 31 and Jan 1 are the big days of celebration. But we don’t really need the clock or the calendar. Four days or so before Christmas is the shortest day of the year. The newspaper or the internet provide specifics, but looking out the window is a good second. About fifteen days later is Epiphany, or Christmas using more traditional calculations.

What this rally is all about is seasonal change. The day of the year with the fewest hours of sun in the northern hemisphere is December 21 or 22. After that, minute by minute, the amount of sunshine increases, until it is at its maximum around the 21 or 22 of June.

So with your feet up, a warm cup of soup, cup of coffee or tea, a hot toddy or hot buttered run, or Irish whiskey in a cup of coffee, or hot tea and milk with peppery spices, get cozy for a trip back in time.

First to India, where recipes add half an inch of crushed raw ginger and a slit green chili to tea and hot milk. Or from the Himalayas, tea and hot milk with ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, bay leaves, fennel seeds, and black peppercorns. Refreshed with such potions, we are ready to enter an earlier time, say six hundred years ago in England, inland from Liverpool and Manchester, where one of our Pinole Artisans went hiking a couple of summers ago.

But now its winter, cold and wet. Birds sing piteously on bare branches. Wet snow falls. Streams are icy cold. A lone knight on horseback perseveres, not quite knowing where he is, in this weather. He has an appointment with fate, so he keeps on.

All of a sudden, a castle appears. It is as white as the snow, and as full of detailing as if it had been cut from paper to serve as a party decoration at a great feast. He heads for the castle and asks a guard at the gate if there is a place within where he could hear mass on Christmas. The guard at the gate says he thinks he knows a chapel that would serve and the knight, the famous Gawain, enters the castle. And from there, an adventure begins.

The summary in the previous two or three paragraphs is from the 14th century English poem “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.” It was written around the same time that Chaucer was writing in London, but being up around Liverpool, the accent and the language are different. It is a little like the difference between “BBC English” and listening to the Beatles, or anyone else from the general Liverpool area. When it is written rather than spoken, the differences seem more intense.

I have been working on a few translation projects recently and I decided to have a go at summarizing the description of holiday festivities at the court to which Gawain comes before his encounter with the Green Knight.

So take a sip of whatever warm concoction is at your elbow and tell me what you think of the following, remembering that time is flexible.

The king lay at Camelot
Full fifteen days
Of feasting and frolic,
Merriment and music.

Snow lay deep upon the land.
Few creatures stirred,
Fewer still were seen.

Green boughs were brought into the hall,
Branches and berries and holly bobs.
Ivy twined, tendrils extending,
Games and gifts given and received,
Tokens and treasures there in the hall.

These poets, often from what is called an alliterative tradition, used rhyme sparingly, usually to make a point. They loved alliteration — the repetition of consonants, both at the start of words, and in the middles.
Give alliteration a try yourself. It can be fun to see what we come up with! The following four lines include some “accidental alliteration,” for openers.