Poetry written in response to art has existed from the time of Homer. This workshop brings together poets and painters in the studio at Casa de la Noche to view and discuss images of paintings and their responsive poems.
|Leonardo Maldonado Ramirez, Artist|
What can a painting do that a poem cannot? Wallace Stevens thought that poets and painters had similar problems to solve in their art. After considering the work of others, you’ll have the opportunity to paint or write in response to other participants’ work.
Please bring paper, pens, paint and brushes, a painting or a poem (created by you) for a stimulating three hours. $50 USD
Sunday, February 12th 10 am to 1 pm
Please register in advance by email to LillianaInSanMiguel@gmail.com
Your workshop facilitator, Lilliana Kennedy, is a published poet with an MFA in Creative Writing. Her own poetry was exhibited at the University of Southern Maine with the sculpture of Kristin Engman who crafted a piece in response to Lilliana’s poem, “Rapunzel.” Lilliana, in turn, wrote “Grace” and “Persephone” for Kris’s sculpture.
The title of this workshop is a line from Rilke’s ekphrastic poem written in response to a bust of Apollo.
What I Remember Most
What I Remember Most
(for Samuel Bak)
is the sky an angry dusk,
flaming in the backdrop,
the looming wooden horse,
the kind a child would pull mindlessly along on a string,
a mutant giant in the flat, cookie-cutter outline of its mane,
one black eye looking at me, comforting in a way
against the Trojan scene. And the fleet, the tattered sails huddled
together, immigrants on the shore having weathered Sturm und Drang.
The jetty, a checkerboard, gray and turquoise slabs the graves heaved up.
The lighthouse, a helpless witness to those tempestuous waves
smashing over the bank. The leaking earth, nothing to withstand
the strength of water. I remember
the pawns, clean-shaven, faceless.
The smoke, the chimneys, the charnel wreckage
of driftwood. And the pastoral sky. Antique leaves
of delicate lace beneath the departing fleece. Roots
of wizened trunks holding their tongues. A turquoise, tilted teapot
and the scattered, frequent, half-cracked cups. The disjointed hours
of home. One sailboat, thrust aground, on the scant grass.
A rose-blush robe, rich as claret in depth, unfurled on the mast.
A tailor, seated, centered. White shirt, slim tie, shoulders bowed,
hands empty of work. Sheets billowing in the breeze,
rain-cleaned. Mostly, I remember breath-taking color
blue — calling back, blue-green.
LBK, Beauty/Truth: A Journal of Ekphrastic Poetry(Fall/Winter 2007)
Pat Scott holding painting made in response to Angela's poem.
Angela holding Max, Peggy Purcell Dowling's dog
Good workshop today! A page with art and poems from it will be published soon right here.
Thanks to all who came.