The Art & Poetry Lifeline
What gives me hope.
As the rain poured down in the woods on election night, I read a message from a friend telling me that I could text her whenever I needed a lift and she’d send me poetry in return. I replied with a request for a poem, because what could be better than receiving poetry from a friend. The next day, amid a sea of grief and despair, Mila sent me Try to Praise the Mutilated World by Adam Zagajewski. In response, I sent her a Claire Oswalt painting I saw in New York last year. It was part of a solo show at Broadway Gallery that swept me away and has ever since made Claire one of my favorite artists. Her abstract paintings are comprised of lyrical swaths of acrylic that read as watercolor, cut up and reassembled into gorgeously sewn canvases. The painting and the poem were each representations of finding beauty in turbulent chaos. And we each desperately needed that reminder.
I’m scared for what’s in store come January 20th and trying my damnedest to wrap my head around how we got here. I’m being conscious about what commentary I consume while prioritizing time in nature, conversations with friends, and reveling in art. Because even in darkness, there is light. For me, and so many others, that light is centered in art and connection. In the last week, I’ve chatted with friends about the energy found in gallery hopping, what makes a compelling still life painting, and where a current work in progress could go next. Saree’s sewing a quilt made entirely of dried flower petals and Zara’s thinking about putting a darkroom in her attic. As for me, I’ve never had more of an urge to pick up a paintbrush again after the longest hiatus of my life. There’s a throughline of appreciating the works of others while being eager to create new works of your own. This is what gives me hope. This is what reminds me that tidal waves of magnificent art have been created during conflict.
I have found getting swept up in the beauty of art and poetry to be the most delicious antidote to sorrow. So I’m here today with a few contributions to what I’m calling the Art & Poetry Lifeline. May the creative acts of others be a balm, and may they even go so far as to inspire you to explore your own creativity — in the studio, the kitchen, the woods, wherever a jolt of joy may take you.
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Dreams by Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
Headstone Suggestions by Kate BaerLoved beloved. Gone but not forgotten.Honestly just a really good time.
My friend Molly wrote that “Joy is a radical act in times of turmoil. Our love is our resistance.” I’m holding this mantra close as we navigate the years ahead. At best, all I can do is take it one day at a time, lead with love, celebrate joy, and revel in the perseverance of creativity.
Wishing you all warm days ahead filled with rest, love, and art.
— Katie
beautifully said -- gratefully shared. xo
❤️