Point of Beginning, Oil on linen, 34” x 34”, 2022.
Our Collaboration:
Over the years my friendship with singer, lyricist and poet Erin Burkett has brought much joy into my life, and now our relationship bears fruit in the form of poetry. About a year ago, Erin blew me away with a poem inspired by of the earliest pieces in this current body of work, Point of Beginning. I was stunned by her lucid vision, the very personal evocation of the universal, the colors painted by her words.
I would like to share this poem with you now. Also, if you are in the Pittsburgh area, Erin and I will be at Zynka Gallery in Sharpsburg on Thursday, March 21 6-7:30 where I will talk about the work in the show, and Erin will be reading several of her poems inspired by this work from
”Everything before forever: a quartet in jewel-tones”. Hope to see you there!
Point of Beginning by Erin Burkett
Right from the gate,
there was an orangish-red tricycle left out in the driveway,
a vermillion zing,
poking a spirit hole into nascent shadows.
It blew in to take its first wobbly spin
atop this unimaginable teal-black-tie occasion.
And every single shade of umber showed up, too…
groaning throaty groans that rippled time itself.
Vibrating plats of viridian, ochre and green-earth-emerging,
clamored
for places to dangle their toes.
Glacial hands crocheted jeweled yarns into a celestial afghan
and then pulled the new hand-knit hush
over worldwide shoulders.
All the while, cricket wings pressed furiously into themselves
to innovate the sound that late July would always have.
There was no anxiety pill,
so, we just had to stand there, shaking in our shoes.
Then, a voice thundered from the metallic basement
—blasting hot bellows from history’s first drunk, pissed-off-dad,
while Velvet and Silt vibrated themselves into becoming
all the way up
to the starry attic apartment…
Point of Beginning.
When the biggest truth was the feel of color
emerging……
bitter and burning,
crouching and bottomless.
Before
anybody was late for work
or kept awake with troubled thoughts
or grappled with dignity.
Before there was any debate about whose God was the best God
and All Things just reached a hand over directly,
intuitively,
to touch
The Nearby Sacred.
Before there was any point to the measure of time.
Before there was any point of comparison.
Before we stopped being utterly blown away.
And together, we sank into this confounding majesty
this kaleidoscope womb of possibility
serious and isolating.
Every soul that was and will………connected at once.
Every single one of us was SO relieved
to find the next cat’s hand in all that darkness.
And shrinking together, we wondered
How we ever lost track …
of Reverence
of Awe
for one another,
and left that bad-ass orangish red tricycle
deserted in the driveway,
turned on its side,
in the rain.
