Collaborative Arts

A collaborative post...

If all has gone according to "plan" I am wandering the desert of Big Bend 

National Park in TX.  Sketchbook and watercolors

in hand I am immersed in the wonder of a part of the

world I have never seen.  So until I can share these adventures

a dear friend and fellow painter, Carmen Beecher, has

stepped in to share the blog space.

 

painting by Carmen Beecher

Several years ago I participated in an art show called Transformations, in which each team consisted of an artist and a poet who collaborated to produce a painting and a poem. It's amazing how well-paired each team was, because many never met before this project. My poet partner, Jean Shepard, lives in Jacksonville, so we met in Ormond Beach to toss around ideas for our collaboration. 

When I was born, (Carmen writes) we lived in an apartment inside a movie theater, and my father managed the theater. She was fascinated by the idea of living inside a movie theater. She wrote her poem from my father's perspective and also made interesting observations on time and motion. All of this gave me the idea for a painting with my mother in the center, sitting on a crescent moon, surrounded by movie stars.

Here is Jean's poem, "At the Movies."

Being two with the hope of three,

it was all they could afford,

an apartment above the cinema

where for hours each day he was a god

at work, turning day into night,

night into day with a flipped switch.

Where he revealed moments

snatched out of time

and run through a light

for believers who sat in silence below.

When two became three,

they ascended the narrow stairs

carried a pink bundle to an empty crib

watched with fascination

the arms waving, the legs kicking,

the unknowing, introverted face.

But others waited below.

He descended to darkness and the machine,

the sour smell of celluloid,

its tiny pieces of the past

curled on themselves like a  shell.

As he turned the switch on

and watched the relentless streaming

he suddenly saw how we move in the world,

how we run forward while

looking back over our shoulders

caught up in continuous flight.

Then he thought of the pink bundle above him,

the new skin, curled fingers,

the tiny feet that had not touched earth

and he was afraid.

see more of Carmen's work at her website:  www.carmenbeecher.com
or visit her on Facebook

Thanks Carmen!  Enjoy tonight's full moon and know that I am seeing it with new eyes and new respect as Big Bend is one of the (purposely) darkest places in the United States.

Wandering in Color,
Cindy