Archive for July, 2010

July 31, 2010

Video Poem: What the Carney Says

Original Text:

What the Carney Says

I may not be flexible, agile, or strong, but damn
if I can’t spot a sucker at twenty feet. I crow to him,

loud enough for the whole midway to hear, but really,
I speak to him. I strut on my soapbox, suggest

the existence of miracles and mysteries never seen
before this day or time. I lie. I advertise

two-headed horses, bearded ladies, and Siamese twins. I give him
a poorly lit tent, a voluptuous man with a  five o’clock shadow,

siblings so close they hold hands under their costume.
I trade in illusion and expectation and I offer

disappointment in return. This is the way of the world:
Buyer beware. Don’t believe everything you hear. Learn

to be satisfied with your lot in life. There are no mysteries
that cannot be solved. No miracles, but the hot smell

of sawdust and horse shit, and the feeling of a woman burying
her face in your shoulder at the sight of horse with a dummy head.

***

The beauty of a video camera is that I can shoot video with only the sense of what I plan on doing with it.

While on vacation in Madison this week, my father and I visited The House on the Rock.  For those of you who do not live in the Upper Midwest, HOTR is a large house/museum turned tourist trap built by a reclusive eccentric named Alex Jordan. The rooms include (but are *not* limited to), an indoor carousel, a replica of a 19th century street, an ocean room with a plaster whale, a doll house and more.   It is filled to the gills with Jordan’s collections of stuff, from antique lighters to marionettes.  It is deeply cool and deeply creepy.  Even though I spent five years (during college) living near HOTR, I never visited. I missed out.  For an interesting perspective on HOTR, I recommend reading Neil Gaiman’s American Gods, as the location figures prominently in the plot.

At the HOTR, I began shooting video of the music machines and indoor carousel, all designed by Jordan.  When I returned, I realized that the video would make an interesting backdrop for my poem “What the Carney Says.” After a little tinkering and voice recording, my very first video poem was born.  My hope is that others will follow, as I continue to experiment with my new toy.

July 30, 2010

On Being a Transplant

I was born in California. You can barely tell now, between my nasally Minn-ee-soh-tah accent and my discomfort in hot weather, but I spent my first 15 years in Los Angeles.  My mother, brother, and I moved to Minneapolis, leaving my father in L.A.  Now, eighteen years later, I am the only one in our nuclear family to remain in Minneapolis.  My mother lives in Sacremento, my father lives in Palm Springs, and my brother just moved from Massachusetts to Seattle.

My father visits once a year or so, typically in the summer, so that he can escape the 120 degree Palm Springs summers. Last year, he visited Minneapolis and expected to see a certain level of Midwestern quaint. If you have any preconceptions about the Midwest, you know the kind: the Garrison Keillor hot dish in the church basement, don’t-cha-know charm.  (Personally, I detest this stereotype because it is so far removed from my experience.)  Instead of chowing on cheese curds, we went to good restaurants, movies, and museums. We drove out to Stillwater, MN, a small town on the Minnesota- Wisconsin border, just so he could feel like he was in the Midwest.

This year, I decided to give him the “real Midwest”, whatever that means. So, we went to Hayward, WI in the North Woods for the Lumberjack World Championships. If you have never seen lumberjack sporting events on ESPN-2, I can explain. Back in the day, athletes took all of the main tasks of a lumberjack and turned them into sports. Who can climb a tree (or in this case a really long pole) the fastest? Who can chop through a block of wood the quickest? Who can race across a chain of logs without falling in the water? While it sounds a bit hokey, the lumberjacks and lumberjills actually have to possess a lot of strength, agility, and determination to win the events.

Below are some videos I took of each of the events:

Saturday’s Semi-Final Relay

Friday’s Qualifying Women’s Boom Run

Saturday’s Semi-Final 90 Foot Climb

Friday’s Qualifying Hot Saw

Saturday’s Semi-Final Men’s & Women’s Logrolling

Saturday’s Semi-Final Jack & Jill Sawing

Saturday’s Semi-Final Standing Chop

Some of the video is a bit grainy, because I had to use a lot of zoom to get detail on the action.

Our trip was a success.  My dad participated in Midwestern life as he had imagined it: drinking beer, eating bratwurst, and watching burly men chop wood.  Meanwhile, my husband and I escaped from the city and reconnected with the natural world.  And nobody severed a limb.

July 26, 2010

Wisconsin & Other Things

I am in the middle of my final real vacation of summer, entertaining my Californian dad with a few real Midwestern experiences. Yesterday, we returned from three days in Hayward, Wisconsin for the Lumberjack World Championships and tomorrow we head to Madison for a few days.

It has been fun, but I have barely had time to breathe. My saving grace in the past few days has been my camera. Earlier this summer, my husband bought me a small video camera that also takes still pictures.  I used it constantly on my trip to the North Woods. I have already posted some photos, and have added more below, and added even more over at Flickr*.

At a rest stop near Osceola, WI

The 60 foot and 90 foot climbing poles at the LWC

On one of the lakes in the flowage around our resort

What I’m really excited about is my video. I have taken some gorgeous video of the lakes and woods near our resort, which I hope to post by the end of the week. I want to compile it and I don’t know if I’ll honestly have the time.  I also have some not-as-visually-appealing-but-still-fun video of the lumberjacks doing their thing, which I’ll also post soon.

I’m still learning about video and how to do it well. I’m finding that I like to treat it like a still camera that can show time elapsing. Not very interesting, but that’s primarily what I’ve been doing. I’m still learning about movement and how to capture what’s visually engaging in this new medium. It’s done a lot for my creativity.

In other non-photo/video news, I am participating in the August Poetry Postcard group.  I have already picked up 5 postcards and hope to get another batch in my trip to Madison. Tomorrow is the first day to send poetry postcards out, which I plan on doing before I leave for Madison.  There’s still time to sign up, if you want to play along.

I’m conflicted (slightly) because I want to post the postcards here, but not before the recipient sees it first. Should I wait until the month is over? Should I institute a 5 day delay? Post a weekly recap? If you have any brilliant solutions, please let me know.

Finally, in other non-Wisconsin/non-poetry/non-photography news**, I would like to direct your attention over to John Hayes’ post on Zoe Keating. He’s posted an excellent description of her work, as well as really cool videos of her playing.  I plan on downloading her album today, before leaving tomorrow, so that I can listen in the car.

Whew. That’s how I’m doing. How are you?

* I finally bit the bullet and became a Pro member. I hope it’s worth the fee. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be doing a huge photo dump of most of my digital pictures over there.  If you’re over there, please say hi.

** Please excuse the brain dump. This is speed blogging at it’s best (and worst.) I just don’t know when else I’ll have the time to write this all down.  Thanks for reading my jumbled thoughts. :)

July 24, 2010

Greetings from Hayward!

After two days here, I’ve found an internet connection, so I wanted to share with you a few pictures from the beautiful North Woods of Wisconsin.  While here, I’ve seen more wildlife than I’ve seen in months in the city, including chipmunks, loons, blue herons, and turtles.

I’ve taken more pictures and videos, which I’ll post when I return to the city and faster internet.

July 21, 2010

A Pause (not a Stop)

Today, my dad comes in to town and I begin my final vacation of the summer.  For my dad’s trip, we have lots of fun planned, including two separate trips to Wisconsin.  While I am excited for my dad’s visit, I also know that with all this scheduled activity, I won’t have a lot of creative time. Since I am already behind on my exercises for my Month of Mindfulness, this puts me in a  pickle. Of course, I want to spend time with my father and have fun, but I also want to stay committed to this practice.

Throughout the past few days, I’ve been trying to think of a solution and I believe I have one. I am going to press the pause button on my exercises.  I will use my vacation time to catch up on the exercises I haven’t completed and write the final ten exercises. Once my dad leaves, and life returns to a semblance of normality, I will resume my final ten exercises.

Here is the commitment I am making to myself:

  • During my vacation, I will complete the following outstanding exercises: Day 12Day 15Day 18Day 19,and Day 21.
  • During vacation, I will also write my final 10 exercises.
  • During vacation, I will post habit pictures as I am able.
  • I will restart my exercise posting on Friday, July 30.
  • I will resume working on these exercises on that same day, July 30.

Of course, I will be blogging about my vacation here, as well as a couple of creative issues I have been thinking about lately.  But now, I won’t have these exercises hanging over my head.

I think this will help me to stay on track.

July 21, 2010

Day 21: The Body Electric

The root of mindfulness in a creative practice, in my mind, is in sensory awareness. For the next five days, I will focus on body awareness.  While body awareness is rooted in many of the senses I have already covered, I think it is most often captured through touch.  As someone who often lives in her head, this is the most challenging sense to articulate.

Whenever I think of poems about the body, two lines automatically come into my head. It’s almost a simultaneous response. The first is from e.e. cummings:  “I like your body when it is with your / body. it is so quite a new thing.” The second is from Walt Whitman: “I sing the body electric.”  For me, these poems encapsulate all that is good about writing about the body, because they address the body as a physical entity but also as a spiritual entity.

While I don’t think I can ever reach the quality of these poems, my exercise for today is to write about the body, both physically and emotionally or spiritually.

July 20, 2010

At Last

There is too much in this world that I love.

On my last day, I will want to hurry and devour everything I will miss.

Even that which is inedible.

I will want it all.

***

This photo array is intended for two prompts: my last meal prompt from Day 17 (writing from my belly) and Day 16 (my last meal).

When I woke up this morning, I intended to visit my neighborhood’s community garden to take pictures of some of the fresh, green food that I would want as my last meal. But as I was walking towards the garden, I kept noticing all of the other things: the details in my neighborhood that I love. While walking, I realized that I wouldn’t want to take in just food on my last day, but all the little things that I would miss. Everything.

The more I thought about this, as I snapped pictures of non-food, I realized that this is really about appetite. I am hungry for input, experience, beauty, and life.  This is a sense that originates in my belly but can’t be satisfied by food alone.

I hope that I can keep these photos and the snatches of lines as a reminder about this feeling of hunger and a finality. Some day, it may be a poem or a collage. But for today, it’s two completed exercises.

July 20, 2010

Playing Catch Up

Below is my rough draft of a poem for yesterday’s Mindfulness Month prompt on My Hands. It is as yet untitled, which is okay.

I’ve been a little behind for the past few days, because my work life and social life got the best of me. I found, quite suddenly, that I was six days behind on exercises with very little time to create on the horizon. This is not to say that I haven’t been working creatively: I met with my writer’s group, I’ve posted a habit picture, and I’ve been doing some revision on my chapbook manuscript.  But, I haven’t been creating new work nor following these exercises as diligently as I would have liked.

Luckily, I found a little stretch of time this morning. I knew that I had an extra hour before work and I forced myself to get up early and create.  On any other day, I might have slept in but today, I dug deep and found a little discipline. It also helps that I am giving myself permission to post rough, untitled drafts, knowing that I can always revisit and revise later.

***

I regret my hands for all the things
they will and will not do: all

the books that I have touched
(and have not read), all the food

I carried home, only to spoil
in the fridge. What is the matter

with these hands who want
and want, but never abstain?

I wonder who has raised them, slapped
their backs when they strayed,

rubbed them together in the cold.
They are out of control. I beg them

to clean their rings, clip
their nails and fold themselves

together quietly. They refuse.
They dig in the dirt, scratch

at my skin. They never stop
for rest.  I am stuck with them,

these restless  pests
and all they carry for me.

July 20, 2010

Day 20: My Hands

The root of mindfulness in a creative practice, in my mind, is in sensory awareness. For the next five days, I will focus on body awareness.  While body awareness is rooted in many of the senses I have already covered, I think it is most often captured through touch.  As someone who often lives in her head, this is the most challenging sense to articulate.

When I was in graduate school, I wrote a draft of a poem about my hands, for a poetry class. Admittedly, it wasn’t very good. I was working retail at the time and I wrote about the scars from opening boxes, rather than the strength or functionality of my hands.  The poem was a mess.  My professor, poet Deborah Keenan, didn’t critique it per se. She wrote on the page, “These poems about hands need to be written.” I shelved the poem and never looked at it again.

All these years later, I agree with Deborah. Poems about hands do need to be written, considering all the work that they do in the world. For today’s exercise, I will write a poem about my hands and the way that they work in my life.  Hopefully, I can overcome that bad draft from so many years ago.

July 19, 2010

Day 19: Walking On

The root of mindfulness in a creative practice, in my mind, is in sensory awareness. For the next five days, I will focus on body awareness.  While body awareness is rooted in many of the senses I have already covered, I think it is most often captured through touch.  As someone who often lives in her head, this is the most challenging sense to articulate.

This year, I have written a lot about my legs. To be fair, they have been a central part of my last year. I dislocated my left knee last July while on vacation, rehabbed the knee through the fall and early winter, had knee surgery in December, and rehabbed the knee again through the winter and spring. Now, I am on the other side of the experience. I have working legs again, after a lot of effort.

For today’s exercise, I will be focusing on my legs (again), but I want to add an extra layer of direction. I have to write (or create) a praise song to my legs. I cannot write about pain, weakness, or deficiency. I have to somehow express my renewed sense of strength in my legs.  I think, for me, that’s a step towards accepting my legs in their new state.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.