dainty things in blue

Poetry * Photos * Day-to-Day Life

Friday, October 30, 2009

goats at the National Zoo

Oh, how I love goats! I am finally getting around to editing the photos from our zoo trip earlier this fall.

goals and dreams

Aspirations Regarding My M.F.A. Candidacy at University of Baltimore
• to make many friends and contacts
• to discover and develop my voice and my poetics
• to develop a daily writing practice
• to learn how to revise and to know when a poem is “finished”
• to improve my poetry reading (understanding) skills
• to improve my critical senses in regard to the works of other writers in workshops
• to consistently send my work out for attempted publication
• to learn elements of bookbinding
• to learn elements of graphic design both for print and electronic publishing
• to be more confident when reading my poetry aloud
• to discover many more poets whose work I love
• to be an asset to the MFA program and to UB in any way I can help
• to find my way to a career path
• to create (or begin to create) a public internet database of poets, with bibliographic and biographical information, to rival all other databases on the subject

Perhaps I Would Like To…
• start a small chapbook press
• start a small poetry journal
• create children’s books
• learn letterpress and other printing techniques
• work with children on creative writing
• work with retired adults on creative writing
• establish a local reading series
• establish a members-only online poetry writing group
• collaborate with local independent bookstores to promote local writing

Monday, October 19, 2009

Poetry Book Publishers

Another thing about poetry -- so many publishers are on board! It's very exciting to browse their websites. I know publishing poetry is mostly a labor of love; nobody is getting rich from selling chapbooks and poetry collections. Poetry books are so often quite beautiful in their design.

I've decided to make a list here of the presses I find to be publishing noteworthy books on a regular basis. Incidentally, if you represent a poetry press and you come across this list and have been omitted, please leave the URL of your website in a comment and I will consider adding you to the list. There's no way I am aware of every excellent press, and new ones pop up all the time.

If you find a broken link, please let me know -- I'll look into it.

ActionBooks

Adventures in Poetry

Ahadada

Ahsahta Press

AK Press

Alice James Books

Anhinga Press

Another Sky Press

Anvil Press

Apogee Press

Apostrophe Books

Arc Publications

Ashland Poetry Press

The Asian American Writers' Workshop

Ausable Press

Autumn House Press

Avec Books

Avenue B

Azul Editions

Barrow Street

Barrytown/Station Hill Press

Beacon Press

Bear Star Press

Belladonna Books

Bitter Oleander Press

BkMk Press

Black Lawrence Press

Black Ocean

Black Square Editions

BlazeVOX books

Bloodaxe Books

BOA Editions Limited

George Braziller, Inc.

Brooklyn Arts Press

Burning Deck

CR Press

Calamari Press

Camber Press

Capilano University Editions

Carcanet

Carnegie Mellon University Press

Carolina Wren Press

CavanKerry Press

Cave Canem

Chax Press

City Lights Publishers

Clear Cut Press

Cleveland State University Poetry Center

Coach House Books

Cockcrow Press

Coffee House Press

Confluence Press, Inc.

Copper Canyon Press

Counterpath Press

Cune Press

Curbstone Press

Cypher Books

Dalkey Archive Press

Dancing Girl Press

Del Sol Press

Duration Press

Eastern Washington University Press

ECW Press

Edge Books

Effing Press

Elixir Press

EM Press

Etruscan Press

Exact Change

Farfalla Press

Farrar, Straus, Giroux

Fence Books

The Figures

Finishing Line Press

Firewheel Editions

First Intensity Press

Fleur-de-Lis Press

Flood Editions

Flume Press

Flutter Press

Fordham University Press

Fourteen Hills

Four Way Books

Freehand Books

FutureCycle Poetry

Futurepoem Books

Ghost Road Press

Gival Press

Godine

Goldfish Press

Granary Books

Graywolf Press

Green Integer Books

Guernica Editions

Hamilton Stone Editions

Hanging Loose Press

Harbor Mountain Press

Hard Press Editions

Heyday Books

Host Publications

House of Anansi Press

Ibis Editions

Kent State University Press

Kitchen Press

Kore Press

Krupskaya

La Alameda Press

Leaping Dog Press

Les Figues Press

Letter Machine Editions

Litmus Press

Low Fidelity Press

Louisiana State University Press

MAMMOTH Press

Marick Press

Marsh Hawk Press

Maverick Duck Press

Mayapple Press

McGill-Queen's University Press

Melville House Publishing

Meritage Press

Miami University Press

Mid-List Press

A Midsummer Night's Press

Milkweed Editions

Momotombo Press

Monkey Puzzle Press

Muse-Pie Press

National Poetry Foundation

New Directions Publishing

New Issues Poetry and Prose

New Michigan Press

NewSouth Books

Nightboat Books

No Tell Books

Noemi Press

Northwestern University Press

O Books

Oberlin College Press

Octopus Books

Ohio State University Press

Ohio University Press / Swallow Press

Omnidawn

Orchises Press

Otis Books/Siesmicity Editions

The Owl Press

Parallel Press

Paris Press

Parlor Press

Passager Books

Pavement Saw Press

Pecan Grove Press

Persea Books

Perugia Press

Plain View Press

Plan B Press

Poltroon Press

The Post Apollo Press

Press 53

Princeton University Press

Publishing Genius Press

Quale Press

Ravenna Press

Reality Street Editions

Red Hen Press

Roof Books

Rose Metal Press

Salmon Publishing

Salt Publishing

Sarabande Books

Saturnalia Books

Silverfish Review Press

Singing Horse Press

Six Gallery Press

Sixteen Rivers Press

Slope Editions

Soft Skull Press

Southern Illinois University Press

Spire Press

Spout Press

Spuyten Duyvil

Steel Toe Books

Straw Gate Books

Subpress Collective

sunnyoutside

Switchback Books

Tarpaulin Sky Press

Texas A and M University Press Consortium

Texas Tech University Press

Three Candles Press

Tilt Press

Tupelo Press

Turtle Point Press

Ugly Duckling Presse

United Artists Books

University of Akron Press

University of Arizona Press

University of Arkansas Press

University of California Press

University of Chicago Press

University of Georgia Press

University of Iowa Press

University of Massachusetts Press

University of Pittsburgh Press

The University of Wisconsin Press

University Press of Colorado

University Press of New England

Wake Forest University Press

Washington Writers' Publishing House

Wave Books

The Waywiser Press

Wesleyan University Press

WordFarm

WordTech Communications

Yellow Moon Press

Zephyr Press

Monday, October 12, 2009

The Bathers Pool (Venus Is Still Venus) by Robert Colescott

Dear Blog Readers,

My current assignment for my Creativity class is to write about a work of art with the depth, analysis, and curiosity of Rilke writing letters on the subject of Cezanne. What could be more the modern-day equivalent to a letter than a blog post? It's a letter to anyone who cares to read it. (And with all the talk of nipples and genitals, I am sure my traffic is going to soar.)

I chose my work of art carefully; I wandered the halls of the BMA until I found a work that would give me plenty to think about, one that was part of the permanent collection and could therefore be photographed, and one that had a place from which I could comfortably view it for a couple of hours without being in anyone's way. I settled down on the bench with my sketchbook and pencils and tried to draw it. Alas, I was happy I had my camera, because I could not begin to do it justice. Here is the photo I took of the painting; remember that the colors aren't going to be quite right and I am unable to take an unblurry photo to save my life.

The Bathers Pool (Venus Is Still Venus) was finished in 1985 and is acrylic on canvas. The artist, Robert Colescott, died this past June. I was not familiar with his name or his work, but I was instantly attracted to it because of the colors and the title. The painting is very large, perhaps 8 feet tall and 11 feet wide and is currently located in the contemporary wing of the BMA.

The painting features five female subjects, one of them Caucasian and the other four of African descent. The landscape -- the Bathers Pool of the title -- is a deep teal oasis with shadows of forest green and reflections of deep plum and red-orange. The placement of paint in this pool has a smooth quality and may have been applied with a flat knife rather than a brush. I could not see any brush marks, but the application isn't so even that it seems rolled-on, either. The underlayer of the pool is sky blue, but the overlay of green or yellow turned most of it teal. The effect is one of tranquility, paradise, an oasis.

Surrounding the pool on all sides are rocks or perhaps mounds of earth; the shape and brushstrokes (which are narrow but long and swirling) suggest the former but the color suggests the latter. The colors nearest the pool are shades of brown, from shadows of near-black to highlights of orange-yellow reminiscent of some kinds of clay. Another reason I think this landscape may be earth rather than rock is that a couple of the women appear to be smeared with this same color, as though they are performing a skin-purifying beauty ritual.

Further into the distance are mountains, deep crimson bases with yellow and orange peaks. The brushstrokes are broad and thick. The sky, only visible in about 1/5 of the painting, is cerulean, deep royal blue, indigo, and a small amount of black. I've never seen an actual sky this color; in combination with the red and orange mountains and the inability to detect a natural light source, the scene is otherworldly and a bit eerie, though enchanting.

The central figure in the painting is the caucasian subject, the one I assume to be Venus. She is the largest thing in the painting. She stands in the pool, the water hitting her at about knee-height. Her right leg is crossed over the left and slightly raised. Her torso twists to the right and the waist. Her torpedo-shaped breasts point straight ahead. Her belly has a slight pooch. She has no visible navel that I could determine. Her hips are quite narrow. Her arms are exaggerated in length, giving the figure a grotesque appearance. Her right arm is bent at the elbow and wrist, and the back of her right hand rests on her right hip. Her neck is at an odd angle which suggests she is cocking her head to the right.

Now to describe Venus's face. Her lips are depicted as of equal width, like a triangle bisected neatly down the middle. Her nose is very small in proportion to everything else on her face. Her forehead is very broad. Only her left eye is visible; it is very large and cat-shaped, the iris bright blue, the same shade as the lightest color in the painting's sky. The eye's pupil is visible but not prominent. The eyeball is bright white. The eyelid is darker than the rest of the face. Her hair appears to be curled and piled atop her head, with more hanging down her neck. Her hair color is light brown with prominent gold highlights and subtle black shadows. The overall impression of her hair color is blonde. The skin color over her whole body and head is peach with medium brown used for contour and shadow. Her fingernails and lips are scarlet. Her nipples are dark red and small.

Venus's gaze is outward, not quite at the painting's viewer, but not at anything within the painting, either. Her expression is placid, vacant, and hard to read. Her body language is confident, although the crossed leg does indicate her desire to hide the pubic area. She seems to be the light source of the painting, the only thing the color of light, glowing from within.

[To keep myself from getting confused, I labeled the other four women in the painting A, B, C, and D, from left to right. Venus stands between figures C and D.]

Figure D stands behind Venus and submerged up to her waist in the pool. Both arms are raised above her head. Her skin is such a dark brown and black that it's difficult to distinguish her jawline or hands, which disappear into their backgrounds. Her lips are large, red, and puckered as if dreaming of a kiss. Her breasts are large and round. Her irises are black and the whites of her eyes are very white. Her nose, although not easy to see, appears from the brushstrokes to be wide. Her navel is noticeable. Her hair is black and curly and looks like it's in a ponytail or chignon. She seems to be looking either at Venus or over at figure B. The expression on her face is surprise or maybe wonder.

Figure C stands on the shore, sharing the center of the painting with Venus. Her body language is the least-confident of anyone in the scene; she stands holding a fig leaf over her genitals, slightly hunched as if in self-protection. Her limbs are very thin. Her breasts are small but full, with dark nipples. Her skin color is reddish-brown, a mixture of dark and medium browns with red highlights. Her lips are bright red. Her nose is very large and broad, a stereotypically African nose. Her eyes are gray and cloudy -- the whites are quite dark rather than actually being white. Her hair is black with bright red streaks. She looks at Venus from the corners of her eyes with an expression of fear and/or hatred.

Figure B raises her arms over her head as in the fifth position of ballet. She stands in the pool submerged to just below her knees. She has a voluptuous, womanly body, with an hourglass figure and heavy breasts. Hers is the only visible pubis is the painting. Her nipples are large and dark. Her skin color is very dark brown and she appears to be smeared with bright ochre mud. Her lips are bright red. The whites of her eyes are very white and the irises black. Her hair is brown and yellow, curly and face-framing. There are green highlights around her face, in her hairline. Her expression is bemused; the lips and eyes seem to smile slightly. She looks to the left, either at figure D or at Venus.

Figure A sits on the shore, knees up, in the lower left corner of the painting. She has short black and red hair. The only visible part of her nose is her prominent nostrils. Her face and body appear to be caked with dried mud. Her skin is reddish-brown. She looks at either Venus or figure C with an unhappy expression. A gold and white apple with a bright green stem sits near her on the bank.

One question I ask myself about this painting is, "Who do these women represent?" Venus is somewhat obvious. There is the mythological figure, the Roman goddess of love, most famously depicted by Botticelli in his 15th century painting, The Birth of Venus. In this painting by an African-American man in the 20th century, a white woman surrounded by four black women clearly represents something contentious in this relationship. Venus looms over the painting and is her own source of light, yet her limbs are grotesque in their proportion and her facial expression is both cocky and vapid. The other four women look toward her, some of them not directly at her, as if she is something to be admired, feared, and detested all at once. One thought is that Venus represents a standard of beauty that only a narrow group of people fit into. As for the other women, perhaps each represents a reaction to that impossible and boring standard: wonder, hatred, sadness, and a challenge. Indeed, figure B, the one whose expression seems to be bemused and perhaps a challenge to Venus, is actually the most classically beautiful woman in the painting, with a voluptuous but proportional figure and femininely pretty face. Even her pose is most like a classical statue.

One question I have not been able to answer is the significance of that golden apple, beyond the connection to the Garden of Eden and how this paradise mimics that one. The only golden things in the painting are it and Venus; maybe it represents a way for the women to buy into the beauty myth. I am happy that none of them are biting.

I admire this painting both for its artistic merits and its message. I hope to see more works by Robert Colescott in the future. I hope I have been able to elucidate this painting for you a bit; if you have any insights of your own, please share them.

Best,
Heather

Friday, October 09, 2009

poetry lovers

For all the common wisdom that Americans don't read poetry anymore, I'd like to know why every time I check out a book of poetry from the library it gets recalled. I mean the university system libraries, of course -- the local public library has little of value when it comes to poetry, and what is of value is the most well-known poetry on earth: Shakespeare's sonnets, Walt Whitman, Neruda, etc. University of Maryland (College Park campus) does an excellent job of collecting contemporary poetry in their main library; I am always impressed when I think I've come upon something obscure and it's available from McKeldin. But I'll have it for a week and suddenly get a recall notice. This doesn't annoy me as much as you might think; I am quite heartened to know that there are other university system patrons who are interested in new poetry. It bodes well for my chosen vocation.

Chances are good that the person doing the recalling is a poet herself or himself, enrolled in the MFA program at UMCP or UB, or perhaps an undergraduate creative writing major. But I suspect that most people who buy poetry -- at least anything that's not on the top 20 best poetry sellers on Amazon -- are writers. I certainly do my share of supporting my fellow poets by purchasing their books. My usual procedure is to read a review on Good Reads, try to find poems online or check the book out from the library, and if I get into this poet's style, buy the book. If it weren't for the internet and libraries, I doubt I would take many chances. Literary journals are very expensive and not so easy to find in stores. I am lucky to live in the city of Atomic Books, which carries some of the less well-known litmags. I always walk out of there with a couple new journals. What can I say? Book-buying, especially poetry and short-stories, is my weakness.

You may want to know who I've been reading lately, and I am happy to oblige.
  • Patricia Smith, Blood Dazzler. I tore through this book faster than Hurricane Katrina. As someone in my poetry workshop said, despite knowing what was going to happen next in terms of the story (which is about Hurricane Katrina and New Orleans), she couldn't wait to find out what happened next. I felt the same way. Smith's mastery of tone and persona is something to be envied. You must read this book.
  • Lee Ann Roripaugh, Year of the Snake. I don't even remember how I discovered Roripaugh; it was just in the past month. I found some of her work online and her refreshing facility with language really opened my eyes and imagination. I bought all three of her books, actually. I started reading her blog, too, which is hilarious, although she should update more frequently. (I'm one to talk.)
  • Many random things from anthologies, Rilke, and handouts from my poetry workshop. I know that's not very specific, but it's the joy of discovery I am encouraging here. Go up to your university library's PS617 section and pull out a bunch of anthologies. Sit down and read a dozen poems by different writers and find something you love. If there's a famous poet you've heard of but have no idea why he or she is famous, find some of the work online and figure out what the fuss is about. Nothing is more rewarding than making an amazing discovery.

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

over Poe's shoulder


over Poe's shoulder
Originally uploaded by sharkycharming
I didn't even realize that today is the anniversary of Edgar Allan Poe's death; I just looked him up on Wikipedia as I was starting this post. Spooky.

I took this photo as part of my Creativity class photo project. I love the way it turned out. The status of Poe is on the UB campus, corner of Mt. Royal Avenue and Maryland Avenue.

why not start today

I love fall. I feel pretentious calling it autumn, but it's a more beautiful word and more accurately fits the season, don't you think? What I love best about autumn is that school starts again, and this year I actually got to go back to school, too. I am working toward an MFA in Creative Writing and Publishing Arts at the University of Baltimore. I feel like I have found the place I really belong. I wish I could be there all day every weekday instead of at work. (Alas, without that tuition remission I get from my job, there would be no chance of affording school.)

I have two courses. The first is an intro class that all new MFA candidates in my program are required to take their first semester. It's called Creativity: Ways of Seeing. So far we have made our syllabi into little accordion books, taken photos of the city and compiled them into slideshows, and started making intense sketchbooks detailing our experiences of becoming more creative. This week we watched videos of Sister Wendy, and this weekend we're going to the BMA to each find our own work of art to examine closely and describe as though we were Rilke talking about Cezanne. The class is a lot of fun and I've met some pretty cool people in there.

My other course is my favorite of the two -- my poetry workshop. It blows my mind every single week because my classmates are so brilliant, insightful, funny, and generous. Not even everyone considers themselves poets -- there are a few fiction and non-fiction writers taking it as electives -- and their poems are amazing, too. I have been fairly satisfied with the poems I've written so far this semester. The object poem was difficult for me because I had this [wrong-headed] idea that there couldn't be people in the poem, and I really like to have human characters in my poems. That poem turned out okay, though. I will revise it soon.

I used to post poems on here but I think I may stop doing that. I want to start submitting poems to journals soon, and having my poems floating around on the web before they land in an editor's inbox seems wrong, somehow. I am not currently prolific enough to have spare poems, you know? I hope that someday I'll get there and be able to post poetry here again; in the meantime, I hope to regale you with tales from my life.

On that note, I was in the post office one day last week to mail a box, and an old man pooped on the floor right next to the counter. Poop just came out of his pants-leg, right onto the floor. A lot of poop. And it smelled terrible. I felt horrible for the post office employee who had to clean it up. I didn't stick around long enough to mail my box -- it was too awful, and the line was really long. The old man just shuffled toward the door and never looked back. It was like he didn't even notice, but is that possible? I hope I never lose total control of my body like that. How humiliating. I felt really sorry for him.
 
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