(from "Postcards" series)
Not everyone who comes here visits on a regular basis. I think about that sometimes. How would you know where to begin? If you started at the current post and it was part of "The Narrative," it might not make sense. If you just looked at the photos, you would find no consistency. I try not to think about it too much, but I am reminded, sometimes. My friend, Frank Petronio, wrote this the other day:
"I don't check your blog as often as I should, you write too much, but it is always rewarding when I take the 10-15 minutes to really read it. I like your photos more and more too, you somehow have that southern colonial atmosphere down."
To the contrary, Lisa wrote yesterday that she does not "love these latest photos." But she reads the words.
I try to reconcile these things, but I can't. I think I'm just going to keep doing this and try not to let my mother find out. There is a stupid craziness to it, anyway, an exhibitionist's idiotic belief. Besides, this is a "workbook" place, a daily posting, not a finished product. I will begin to have finished product soon, I think, though I feel like a hobbyist without end. But I am determined to put my stamp on something.
What are the "take-aways" from this? For me, there is the label with which I am somehow fascinated. "Southern Colonial". What a title.
* * *
After I posted, I saw this. Zackary Canepari has troubles with his photos, too.
What. . . me worry?
What if your mother finds out?
ReplyDelete"workbook" in poem land we call them "workshops" who is to say when something is "finished" anyway I always wonder. I suppose the maker -- but if something receives an "audience" and people respond -- the maker can't make "that response" go away. It Exists.
Sometimes I go and delete my poems en masse from the various online places they are posted -- just because I get sick of looking at them. I've deleted hundred and hundreds of them, not saving a single letter -- people say -- just because you deleted that poem doesn't mean you can make it "go away" we read them and responded. And I am reminded that the poem -- was never again "mine" once I shared it -- even online in a workshop.
It's interesting this new world of internet sharing of the arts. Well it isn't exactly "new" but in the terms I'm thinking it is.
"Lisa wrote that she does not "love these photos" but she reads the words."
But I do study the photos with just as much intent as I read your words. I know your quest -- or well maybe I understand your quest for the "perfect photo." At least I think I recognize it as the same feeling as my search for the "perfect poem" -- of course those things don't exist and therefore the madness ensues. And we continue on ...
And so the latest ballerina photos just don't do it for me (save that one I mentioned). Just because I didn't love them doesn't mean I don't appreciate them -- it's funny this world of sharing stuff - and certainly it doesn't mean I haven't been very moved by other photos you've posted. We don't have to love everything right?
Pure adulation can be just as detrimental to a maker as constant negative criticism, I think. Even in blog world.
"I consider criticism merely a preliminary excitement, a statement of things a writer has to clear up in his own head sometime or other, probably antecedent to writing; of no value unless it come to fruit in the created work later."
Ezra Pound
I know that quote by heart and probably have even posted it here before.
The person I've learned the most about poetry from happens to now be my lover -- sometimes he says "I can't give you criticism because I'm afraid I'll hurt you." To which I respond - "If you love me -- you know how much poetry means to me -- and you know that your not being honest about the poem is more hurtful to me than anything."
Make what you must. I say. The rest of it -- is out of (y)our hands.
xo
I've shared your blog with two members of my family recently. One read more of the words, one looked more at the photos. I want them to go all the way back and read EVERYTHING and look at ALL the photos so they will appreciate it as much as I do. I don't know if they will ever put that much time in it. They don't even look at my blog, which is understandable since I rarely post.
ReplyDeleteI happen to love the ballerina photos but there are some of your other 'postcards' that don't move me at all. It's all so subjective... Most of all I love that you keep working and pressing forward, I tend to let life push things to the side...I admire your process! Thanks, -R
Oh, I've gotten to the point where I do not mind pure adulation. It stands me pretty well just now. I think it is the summer's heat that does it. It is critic enough. It breaks you down and makes you doubt everything.
ReplyDeleteI just finished taking a painting class. I am a very bad painter, I find. But I didn't get much help, either. The instructor would put up a still life and tell us to sketch it and paint it. He'd come by and tell me to work on this or that part more. "OK," I thought, "what in the hell does that mean?" And so I'd muddle on "working" on this or that part. I'd "do" something, but it still looked like Fido's rear.
Close to the end of class, the instructor was helping a young boy not much better than I, and he told him the same thing. I asked the boy if he knew how to "work on that," if he knew what to do. Of course, he said, "not really." The instructor, now miffed, pointed to part of the canvas and said, "here, you need to make more shades of blue. Look at the table. What do you see? See how many shades there are? You need to do more of that."
The kids painting still sucked, but. . . . .
I don't know. I'm just a dilettante, I think. I'm just going to put the stuff on my refrigerator.
Did I tell you how hot it is here? It is definitely the end of the world. I'm just going to go weep for awhile. And then, maybe, the rains will come and things will cool down.
I do love you all.
Oh, I forgot. If my mother finds out, I will get in trouble. I have had a studio for six months now and have not told her. She would be angry because I am spending money on that while driving an old beater of a car. My mother is very practical, made that way by youthful poverty. And she likes pictures of covered bridges and autumn forests. I have a post somewhere about her reaction to my China photos. I think I captured the whole thing there.
ReplyDeleteThere's things in life you parents dont need to know:)
ReplyDeletekeep'em coming, we're here and waiting.
Oh, it's very hot here in west alabama. I really think sometimes this area is hell!
Danny