Art – # SoCS July 30/16

Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao

I heard someone say today that true art is something that has no other purpose than to be ‘art’. It should not be functional, it should not have any use other than to be what it is. Quite by coincidence, I then read a few hours later, an online discussion about the same issue.

I’m not sure whether I agree – my internal jury is still out on that one. There have some been some truly beautiful creations that I have admired and considered to be art, but they also have a function – for example, the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao (just a one-off example, and an insight into at least one thing that I really appreciate).

Maybe my consideration of what is art is misaligned, or perhaps even uneducated. Or perhaps it means I’m not an art snob, who knows?!

All I know is that I truly enjoy creating art, not only with with words but also with paint, pastel, pen, ink, pens… the list is endless. I enjoy the process, sometimes even more than the end result (depending on whether I am happy with it or not!).

What do you think?


 

Today, the lovely Linda asks to write a stream of consciousness post on ‘art’ – a subject close to my heart. Why not head on over to her blog, read other writers’ thoughts and even take part yourself?

Consume – dVerse Poetics

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light,

brilliant, headache-inducing light,

piercing my retinas

until they disintegrate, are no more

than piles of ash on the floor at my flailing feet.

Words and pictures,

boxes, packets, cartons, bottles,

clothed in all the colours of the rainbow

– if a rainbow were acid yellow, puce and lime green.

I can hear the groaning

as shelves bow under the weight of all the produce

that we simply must buy

otherwise our lives are meaningless, somehow.

I hover in the doorway as the glass partitions slide

back and forth

moved by invisible hands.

The devil’s work.

 

Get me out of this hell (that others call a supermarket)

I want to go home.


 

I’m a little late to the party, after a heavy day yesterday, when all I wanted to do was put my feet up and drink coffee. Yesterday was Poetics night over at dVerse, where our genial host, Walt, invited us to write on ‘too much’ drought, deluge, literal or metaphorical.

Anyone who knows me, knows I hate supermarkets these days. All that ‘stuff’ piled high, all those ‘special offers’ all that price-matching and BOGOF’ offers. Ugh, it drives me to distraction. I find it utterly overwhelming and I have no patience for it. A deluge of consumerism at its worst.

What kind of drought or deluge have you in your life? Why not share it with the dVerse community – or just hop on over for a good old read?

Yitgadal v’yitkadash – dVerse Haibun Monday

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Sitting in a hospital, watching and waiting for my father to die, that was my memory of three years ago. I remember the bizarre juxtaposition of the glorious, scorching summer outside, and sitting in the shadow of partially-drawn curtains, as if the room was already preparing us for mourning, for the stopping of all the clocks. A butterfly danced in the breeze of the oscillating fan, fluttering above our heads as if attempting to lighten the atmosphere, enticing us outside with the glories of Nature dusted brilliantly on its wings. It didn’t seem right that the heady perfume of honeysuckle should still waft in through the half open window whilst life was disappearing in front of our eyes. But on the other hand…

sunlight and fragrance

haunt our days with rich hints of

renewal – the end.


 

dVerse is back to its normal post-anniversary-celebration schedule, with Haibun Monday! This week, our lovely host Toni has asked us to write on the theme of summer, heat, keeping cool and our memories of the challenges of the dog days.

As you can see from above, my dad died in the summer three years ago, and it was the oddest experience, something so sad and challenging happening in such a heatwave. It didn’t seem quite right.

Please do hop on over to dVerse and see how others have interpreted the challenge – no haibun will be the same as any other!

Oh, and by the way, the name of this pieces is inspired by the opening words of the Jewish prayer, the Mourner’s Kaddish – the words mean ‘glorified and sanctified’.