The problem (if there was one) was simply a problem with the question. He wants to paint a bird, needs to, and the problem is why. Why paint a bird? Why do anything at all? Not how, because hows are easy, series or sequence, one foot after the other, but existentially why bother, what does it solve? Be the tree, solve for bird. What does that mean? It’s a problem of focus, it’s a problem of diligence, it’s supposed to be a grackle but it sort of got away from him. But why not let the colors do what they want, which is blend, which is kind of neighborly, if you think about it. Blackbird, he says. So be it. Indexed and normative. Who gets to measure the distance between experience and its representation? Who controls the lines of inquiry? He does, but he’s not very good at it. And just because you want to paint a bird, do actually paint a bird, it doesn’t mean you’ve accomplished anything. Maybe if it was pretty, it would mean something. Maybe if it was beautiful it would be true. But it’s not, not beautiful, not true, not even realistic, more like a man in a birdsuit, blue shoulders instead of feathers, because he isn’t looking at a bird, real bird, as he paints, he is looking at his heart, which is impossible, unless his heart is a metaphor for his heart, as everything is a metaphor for itself, so that looking at the page is like looking out the window at a bird in your chest with a song in its throat that you don’t want to hear but you paint anyway because the hand is a voice that can sing what the voice will not and the hand wants to do something useful. Sometimes, at night, in bed, before I fall asleep, I think about a poem I might write, someday, about my heart, says the heart. Answer: be the heart. Answer: be the hand. Answer: be the bird. Answer: be the sky.
~ Richard Silken
Credits: Poem – Fables of Reconstruction. Drawing by Shaz Aslam. Richard Silken Bio
Answer: Exhale after reading this. A stream of consciousness that simply glows. And stays with you.
It does just rumble down the tracks. I loved it too…
Coffee! Seriously, I liked this, DK. Got the ole noggin chugging right off the bat this morning… 🙂
Smiling. I read it several times and thought the same. Giddyap…
A gritty tumble through the creative process. “the hand is a voice that can sing what the voice will not.” Loved that part especially.
Yes, loved the part, and everything else.
On Mon, Mar 10, 2014 at 6:08 AM, lead.learn.live. wrote:
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Thank you, David, from the heart.
Thanks Ann
In the drawing, it looks like he is cuddling and comforting a swaddled baby, which is what the heart is and needs, sometimes.
I never saw that image until you pointed it out Carolann. But yes, I do see that. I do. Wonderful.
It’s amazing that you find such things, David…and what a way to start the week. 🙂
Thank you Carol. I love this poem too. It moved me similarly. Have a great week. Dave
(Note to self: Dave is in harmony with such reading material i.e quotes, articles, posts, books etc that’s why he attracts them very easily and presents here) – That’s what law of attraction tells me otherwise there is no other way that I could think of… You really are a human, right? with the same 24 hours a day that we have? :p Wanted to confirm just in case you know… 🙂
awwwwwww, thank you…
On Wed, Mar 12, 2014 at 7:21 AM, lead.learn.live. wrote:
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beautiful words and the image is powerful. such a strong body so tenderly hugging and holding the heart/bird/baby within.
Yes to all that Beth…
On Thu, Mar 13, 2014 at 5:36 PM, lead.learn.live. wrote:
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