Ut Pictura Poesis, as is painting so is poetry
Seek, if you will, the time you stood beside some darkening ocean...
Last week, Damon (the poet) and Tabby (the painter) left us with these thoughts on “Ut Pictura Poesis”…
Tabby…
In reading through the emails… I am stuck by Damon’s comment, “To spend time with these subjects, like spending time with paintings and poetry, we have opportunity to deepen our humanity.” And also what Rothko said in turning to more abstract work, that he wanted "to raise painting to the same level of intensity and emotion as music and poetry.”
I find myself wanting to be more expressive in my work by turning inward, to get closer to what motivates me, and to what I want to say at this point in my creative journey. I am moving away from the more literal depiction of place, though my work has always leaned to evoking a mood or emotion. Currently I am striving to connect and deepen my understanding of my own humanity using intuition and unconscious thought in the painting process. I am painting from a deeper place, and experimenting with new techniques that allow more abstraction, welcoming spontaneity and chance into the work. I want to nurture intuition and allow it to guide me through the process rather than be confined by subject or other defined goal. Like Rothko, I am finding elements of music in these paintings, different notes or vibrations expressing more emotion in the work.
The writer writes about life, his own humanity and his place and reaction to the world around him - and the painter paints. All we can do is be as truthful as we can in conveying that experience.
Damon…
The best paintings, the best poems require our attention, and, unsurprisingly, they reward our attention. In a poem, we might notice, for instance, the denotations of a line we had not recognized in previous readings. In a painting, we might see a brushstroke that is, in a sense, the painting. I experienced this a couple of weeks ago while touring the Guggenheim. I stopped at the Monet painting, “The Palazzo Ducale, Seen from San Giorgio Maggiore.” There are brushstrokes on the waterfront of pale vermilion that are the painting. Our beloved poems, our beloved paintings beg our words, yet our words cannot comprehend the experience of our encounter. And when our perspective changes—when we stand closer or farther away from a painting or when we attempt to understand short lines or a necessary word in a poem—then our experience may be further enriched. We might be enriched. In keeping with poesis, something is made, something emerges. I do not believe in the salvation of art, but I believe art can compel us towards what is more humane. I am not certain if art has a higher purpose than that. But two further points to consider: 1) As viewers and readers, we must be open to the possibility that an encounter with art can deepen what is humane in us. The cynosure here being that the heart must be open to receive what the art gives. 2) What happens when poetry and painting are combined? Does something new and significant emerge? Or is something displaced from both? I recognize both are possibilities, but I am curious about what the general combination compels, though to generalize may be too ineffective. And yet I hope there are many of us who will continue to look and listen. We have different tastes. We can disagree. But I want a heart that breaks before a Van Gogh, that gasps before a Rodin, that dreams before a Morandi…
This week, they give an example of that relationship between their two artistic mediums: “Ut Pictura Poesis” or “as is painting, so is poetry…”
Variations
By Damon Falke
Seek, if you will, The time you stood beside Some darkening ocean, The time you waited on the edge Of a sun-touched and golden field, The time you could hardly move for how Light shifted on a city street. One by one you have collected these Scenes, and perhaps we will too. Maybe gather them up like a favorite page Or a poem we read before we sleep. Or remember them the way we remember What a lover said to us when we grieved, Not yes or no, but here, now, with you— Suddenly the river shimmers again, Suddenly like a bird, like a great blue heron, we Catch in flight, catch in light.
Read last week’s piece here:
Damon Falke is the author of, among other works, The Scent of a Thousand Rains, Now at the Uncertain Hour, By Way of Passing, and Koppmoll (film). He lives in northern Norway.
Tabby Ivy now lives and works in Carlton, Oregon. Painting came late in her life. Her home studio is a sanctuary for working, and reading her extensive collection of art books. Learn more at www.tabbyivy.com.
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I love your painting, Vibrations. Absolutely love it!