I actually wrote two poems to the prompts today. This was one I wrote in a notebook while waiting in the dentist’s office. I decided it was sort of a downer in a time of too many downers, so I wrote another, but it called out from the notebook sitting on my desk beside my computer, so here it is with all its warts.
It’s a kind of surviving, this new life we share.
We rarely leave home and we don’t cut our hair.
We mainly commune with our kids and our spouses
and cover our faces when we must leave our houses.
We maintain a distance of six feet away.
We deterge our hands countless times every day.
A soupcon of hand sanitizer’s our goal
when touching a surface not in our control.
Not a world of our choice and not one by design,
so we sulk and we protest. We pout and we whine.
Yet we are not blameless, for it’s the result
of the short-sighted goals of the consumer cult.
Parents respond when kids get out of hand.
So, too, Mother Nature must take a stand.
She’s decided to send each of us to our room
lest we mess up her world, thus sealing its doom.
If we won’t behave, she must take a firm hand.
We’ve not followed her rules, so we have been banned.
Jeannie did a great job of using all of the different objects presented to artists to use in the challenge. The mysterious rings that none of us knew the purpose for, bottle caps, wine corks, joker card, cardboard carton and buttons. If making this playful wall art collage didn’t cheer her up in her isolation, I don’t know what would. Hopefully, she’ll add some notes about her process in the comments.
(Click on photos below to enlarge)
To see the original challenge as well as links to the work of other artists who have sent in their photos of how they met the challenge, go HERE. If you want to join in, you need not start with the objects we started with. Choose your own media. Want to bake a Lonely Artist Covid cake? Great. Write a poem? Paint a painting? Do a mural? Make an intriguing mask? Snap a photo? Do a video? Sing a song? Do a dance? All are welcome. Just link your contribution via a link to this blog or to the link to the original challenge above.
Friday, Aug. 7, 2020
At the beginning of the Coronavirus Sequestering period, I issued a challenge for people to create an art piece that chronicled their experiences during this time. Go HERE to see that challenge.The idea was that we all started out with the same materials, then added what we wished to to come up with an art piece that chronicled these first stages of our isolation. Four friends accepted the challenge, but I’ve only received photos of their work from two. I’m going to be blogging their photos over the next two days, and if anyone else has photos to submit, please do so now. Below are the photos of my completed project. See if you can find the pieces in it that are some of the materials given to each artist.
(Please click on the first photo to enlarge it and read the story of my Covid Vacation. Clicking on the next arrow enlarges the next photo and gives more of the story.)
My photography session over, we’ve all moved from the studio to the gazebo. I’m in the hammock and Diego is rolling around and growling on the grass. I’ve never been able to figure out what prompts this. Is it pure kidlike glee or a bee sting? If it is bee stings, he’s a slow learner because he’s been rolling in the grass and growling for years and yet he still tries to catch bees in his mouth every time they venture near, which is the second reason for the bees depicted in the Covid-19 memorial Retablo. Now it just needs a wooden frame and it is complete.
Tomorrow, a depiction of another piece from my Covid Challenge–that of my friend Candace’s piece. If anyone else accepted the challenge and has photos to send me, hurry hurry. Go HERE to see Candace’s answer to the challenge and HERE to see Jean Mulleneaux’s contribution.
Open link below to read article:
Click on photos to enlarge.
The Advantages of Social Distancing
My salad is mouthwatering, the ambience is fine.
The numbers in my dining room below what laws define.
I am amply distanced as I am all alone,
the friend that I am dining with connecting via phone.
The cake I baked four days ago obliterated in three,
insures my tonight’s dinner will be dessert-free.
How do I compensate for that when dining all alone?
I have my entertaining quirks for which I won’t atone.
My friend is in her very best—her Klein and De la Renta.
While I slurp up my soup, she slowly savors her polenta.
To not dress in my best as well I feel she would find rude,
so I will not reveal from the waist down, I’m dining nude!