I received a wonderful gift the other day...a poem. This wasn't just any poem though. This poem, entitled "Portal" was written by a client of mine who had recently purchased one of my paintings and apparently, the painting (my creative expression) inspired his own creative expression (the poem). I love that!
As an artist in the River Arts District, I deal with so many really great people. They're perusing Asheville's various art galleries and art studios because they enjoy art and want to meet the artists. Art becomes the common ground between strangers here, and even if we differ in regards to background, race, religion, or politics, we can come together with art. Art is magical that way I think.
I love the idea of one genre of creative expression inspiring another, so that creativity bounces from one head/heart to the next and how far it eventually goes? Who knows, but it's exciting the think about. As far back as our exploration of history goes, creative expression has always been linked to the homo sapien. I really like that!
So without any further written expression on my part, let's get to the written expression that inspired this particular blog post:
Portal
By Ray Griffin
29 May 2018, Asheville, North Carolina
The day has been quite unsettled
with shifting clouds and continual gentle rains.
I, too, am restless as I sit on pier’s edge.
The Sangiovese soothes my senses
as descending clouds begin to encroach
upon lake’s placid domain.
All is quiet
except for the occasional call of the loon.
I skip-a-stone
across water’s surface
just to create movement and sound
upon its liquid sheet of glass.
I relish the moment.
My eyes follow the ripples
until they disappear into the misty void.
The fog thickens
as the sole cry of a hawk, unseen,
pierces the silence
echoing off of the nearby mountains.
I take my bottle, drinking from its neck,
and settle into my red canoe.
Slowly, I paddle towards the morphing void.
As I pass through its edge
the pier disappears.
I place the paddle at my feet.
The eerie quietness of the moment
is disturbed only by the gentle lapping
of the lake upon my craft.
I am adrift in my thoughts...
Sol briefly
pierces storm’s grey veil
pathway
though opacity
provides for poetic transparency
