This cupboard opens into a piece of art and randomness of cut-out words, that are learning to speak.
I use to learn how to write poems and essays as my form of creative
expression. I try to find words, metaphors, and phrases from various sources.
From illustrated magazines about nature and places to all kinds of books that
inspire me—I delve into them to find meaning or use words in a different way. I
try to create my own expression through new combinations of words.
It’s a kind of collage, but made of words rather than
cut-out images.
At first, I simply tried playing with words in my notebook,
and I even asked my child for her opinion; initially, her reaction was that the
text had no grammar or meaning. My first thought was that this was precisely my
message and that it was good, motivating criticism that encouraged me to keep
trying.
Below is one of my collages, created from excerpts from the
lyrics of well-known songs and magazines with cartoons.
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Notebook with well known song and magazines |
Later, I created a poem from cut-out words, piecing together meaning from fragments rescued from scraps, old, discarded schoolwork, and forgotten pages. At first glance, it may seem to lack form or meaning, but I tried to rearrange the words into a new poem and it didn’t turn out the way I wanted, so I left it as it is.
She adored him.
That shape drawing there
Imagination aired memories.
Reflect, passion, sense.
Morning, these doves showing self.
The images about love.
They love!
Elsewhere the time
goes,
Truly create dream.
That the river
A feminine portrait
Gantry for form
Gamut we know
Makes are imaging.
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Image of acrylic and with glued words on the frame |
The inner
world of a woman’s love, which lives in her mind but is never spoken aloud.
Memories and imagination intertwine, and nature becomes emotional
symbolism—doves, river, morning, peace, purity, flow. Together, they form a
feminine creative expression, a portrait, but I leave the deeper meaning for
you to discover.
And somewhere
deep at the bottom of this art, a secret mark stays only for the cupboard.
I tried make a longer form from a taken phrases and words
and wrote an essay in poetic tone.
Flow of time
Here you’ll find items ready for a new home, including a delightful treasures. Look on the table and the mix of bits and bobs you didn’t know you needed. If you want more, I’m just here to help you and no carrier pigeons needed! Come along and take your time.
Nobody knows,
that outside of normal selling duties, the lady is a famous pigeon breeder. She
loves mark pigeons` existence everywhere. She even has a long, green cardigan
with embedded pigeons, a purple hat with pigeons, and on dark green backpack`s pocket is of course a little
pair of sweetly kissing pigeons.
At the table there are sorts of kind
of a delightful collection of second hand children’s and young adult books.
They once sparked a joy and imagination. The other bits and bobs are old golden
coloured jewellery with stones, long dresses, velvety embroidered with
butterflies cloak someone once wore, tiny evening bags, happy toys, fancy
costumes for masquerades, old wooden trinkets, table dinner sets with sweet
vintage designed tureen for soups and roses painted tea cups with a porcelain
tea pot.
The lady who is in charge of all the
things, moving around the table and traying to put them in the most great light,
like an invitation to see these pretty little things.
A couple of streets from the lady`s
stall is an outdoor moving theatre. The audience gathering in glorious, summer
afternoon`s sunshine and is immersed in
the medieval tons of the music. Next is a play in style of dell`arte,
pantaloons, sketches and standup comedy. The audience nearly rolling in the
chairs and aisles, while the theatre troupe snag the pirates shanties and
performing swashbuckling actions on the high seas on the stage .
Then, the time aired, when the people
looking for flamboyant amateurs with theatrical tricks, that are playing
elaborative pranks on their guests. The strolling players performing a dashing
endless knights jousting and one of the cast is playing even pinafore for the
guests.
On that day a children are trying to
earn some coins with handmade lemonades by selling it and serving straight away
from the glass jugs. Only good watchers can see the children hiding behind the
theatrical curtain and somewhere between the narrowed streets close to the
performance.
This quiet day is like an easel kept the landscape of the
quiet village town, where dragonflies gently flying above the banks of the
freshwater stream of the river.
When walking the same, peaceful path along the town, a summer
flowers blooming around in a calming rhythm of the slow airy wind– Nigellas,
Peonies, Roses, Marigolds, Violas and Poppies.
Butterflies fluttering with colourful wings and touching the scent of
sweet peas that flowers climbing around a low, wooden poles.
A darker time of the evening is bringing a nocturnal birds
chorus. and a miles away are gentle bells
of very old clock from tower. It is sounding a bit of nostalgia and passage of
time.
The bell from the tower is echoing its own, almost silent
melody:
Bong,
Bong,
Bong,
bong
bong
The bell`s rhythm is slowing and calming tone as the last ,,g’’ would disappearing.
The fireflies are glimmering with vivid shining.
And then is a gentle, sweet, delicate voice. It is singing
about walking the same path and capturing the light, endless sky and the life
of the little town. This sweet voice is awaking the dawn. When closing the eyes
for a moment, there is a feeling of a dreamy, surprising world.
Around are still the slow shining lanterns.
Someone cannot sleep, but it is a slow new beginning.
The soft light is breaking the line far over, as if a heavens slowly open before the dawn sun.
