Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Day 30: A Day in the Studio

It's never the same, the painting process--
sitting before an easel or standing across
the room to scrutinize the stroke you've just
made. Some days, concentration's acute and
what they call the muse assists the process.
Everything's brilliant. Colors bright, composition
crisp. Other days you walk away feeling the
world's greatest dullness. It's slow going, hard
to get organized, worry nags, insisting
that really you're doing all this for naught.
Then a shift. Enlivened, stirred inside, almost
like the joy you feel as a sunset blooms. It's
then that you know you can do anything.
Creativity's fickle, the process never the same.

Chinese Dragon Over Mountain

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Day 29: Ginko

We scampered the arboretum,
studied the oaks, maples, &

the oldest living fossil teacher
called the Ginko.  At home, Dad

said, No it isn't.  I said, But teacher
knows.  He didn't understand.  I

know now that what he thought,
like himself, the tree itself is a fossil.

Of course she meant, when we find
fossils, the Ginko is of the oldest plant

discovered.  Now I press the leaves in
my journal for good luck.  They always

remind me that life goes on & on
& on for a very long time.

Nancy Canyon

Monday, April 28, 2014

Day 28: Sunday Art

Art comes to the back yard
beginning with flush of ideas, now objects
combining color and shapes, light &
dark across the fence.  Need texture.
Eventually an abandoned swallow
flyer nest gleaned from beneath
garden eves, sticks & the stays of
hand-honed kayak form sculpture.
In the yard, brainstorm elements.
Jimmy. Finagle. Snip, wire & nail.
Kneeling to glue egg in nest, we study
low clouds to west.  Sun pounds through
menacing clouds, storm heading our way.
Noon long gone, our creation emerges
out of Spring forces. That happens.
People run in the park, work in gardens, a
quiet neighborhood, dog and cats leisurely
resting in the sunshine. Sudden clouds blot
sun and temperature drops. I run inside
the house as rain starts falling and wind
unleashes, stirs branches and new leaves,
velocity increasing. I grab yellow onion,
wield knife, slice & brown roast in butter.
X-ing from outside to studio, you paint,
Youngbloods singing Let's Get Together.  
Zoning on Sunday, lovers making art.

Nancy Canyon

Day 27: Black Market Hot Sauce

Black Market Hot Sauce

They stand on corners whispering
Hot sauce. First taste free. We pass, shaking
our heads no, as that's how it all begins.
It's hard to turn down, yes, all that spice.
And everyone's doing it, right? What's up, 
the pusher saysWassabe? Nodding,you pull 
 two tens from you wallet.

Nancy Canyon

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Day 26: Boys

We run after them, all flailing
arms and legs crashing together,
snot flying, spittle winging cheeks.
We catch shrieking girls, tackle, fall
to the ground, rolling. We make them
smile, tickle their sides, smell their soap
and grape juice and fresh air. Mysterious.
Soft, crying easily. They blush, speak in
high pitched voices, play house with dolls.
We circle them as they move in clumps,
giggling.  Girls.            ~Nancy Canyon