The Poetry
Many poems have been written in response to Ava Lee's paintings. Following, are various poets' contributions.
BEAUTY IS EMBARRASSING
by Daniela Elza
This mixed-media painting was recently on exhibit in the Art Gallery of the Jewish Community Centre Of Greater Vancouver. The poet, Daniela Elza, chose to write about her deeply moving interpretation of this piece.
BEAUTY IS EMBARRASSING:
by Daniela Elza
I am working on becoming an expert on not being
an expert. a wounded bird so to speak. because
I need to figure things out.
Let the vertebrae enunciate the skin accentuate
let them curate the exhibit you make of your mind -
this is the homeland you wonder through.
How will you draw the map of your days under domed temples? How will you shake the fever the television snow will not cool down? amidst the planes of war that do not stop dropping through the silences the dead keep sacred. How will you? when the bitter water closes around your ankles like shackles. How will you step in further? This morning I woke up with the crows is what I was trying to tell you last night.
My heart - a monk facing the monastery wall of my life. And what if you stopped thinking this is you? stop thinking you are separate from these crows. How will you speak the despair you wake up with the desire that unbuttons into your day? is what I was trying to ask you tomorrow.
Matters of the heart are never simple you say. You say your heart is a dark hole. a wounded bird an Icarus flying too close to the sun. Yet the sun still fanfares through the stone city splashes it in its brightest colours sprouts through the green vertebrae of spring.
And a wounded bird can heal I said. And look at you your pockets full of folded stories you keep
skipping over bitter water. How will you catch yourself in your two hands when life hurls you over the edge? How will you reclaim your body as an instrument for singing the world again?
We finger our artistic spectrums search for the right metaphors to say: Eros is freedom. to say spirit is not another matter and for that matter is full of spirit. To know yourself as you are when you are loved. perfect that is. then learn that nothing is perfect. Stilll your want is to go back go back go back and rewrite your unforgiving life. Your words will never be good enough.
Let the punctuation be sunshine streaming down your shoulder in a walled-in city meaning to say nothing. Just here. stop. pause. question. exclaim. And here show your papers, your passport. Your ellipses walk away ... from a crowded history.
Today all we can do is imagine going through the museum of apologies. (nauseated but still interested.) to see how we get it wrong again and again. Learn how to say sorry. how to manage our households knotted by fear plagued by doubt. How to remember You are my other Me.
I am working on becoming an expert on not being an expert. a birded wound so to speak. because I need to figure things out.
BEAUTY IS EMBARRASSING:
by Daniela Elza
I am working on becoming an expert on not being
an expert. a wounded bird so to speak. because
I need to figure things out.
Let the vertebrae enunciate the skin accentuate
let them curate the exhibit you make of your mind -
this is the homeland you wonder through.
How will you draw the map of your days under domed temples? How will you shake the fever the television snow will not cool down? amidst the planes of war that do not stop dropping through the silences the dead keep sacred. How will you? when the bitter water closes around your ankles like shackles. How will you step in further? This morning I woke up with the crows is what I was trying to tell you last night.
My heart - a monk facing the monastery wall of my life. And what if you stopped thinking this is you? stop thinking you are separate from these crows. How will you speak the despair you wake up with the desire that unbuttons into your day? is what I was trying to ask you tomorrow.
Matters of the heart are never simple you say. You say your heart is a dark hole. a wounded bird an Icarus flying too close to the sun. Yet the sun still fanfares through the stone city splashes it in its brightest colours sprouts through the green vertebrae of spring.
And a wounded bird can heal I said. And look at you your pockets full of folded stories you keep
skipping over bitter water. How will you catch yourself in your two hands when life hurls you over the edge? How will you reclaim your body as an instrument for singing the world again?
We finger our artistic spectrums search for the right metaphors to say: Eros is freedom. to say spirit is not another matter and for that matter is full of spirit. To know yourself as you are when you are loved. perfect that is. then learn that nothing is perfect. Stilll your want is to go back go back go back and rewrite your unforgiving life. Your words will never be good enough.
Let the punctuation be sunshine streaming down your shoulder in a walled-in city meaning to say nothing. Just here. stop. pause. question. exclaim. And here show your papers, your passport. Your ellipses walk away ... from a crowded history.
Today all we can do is imagine going through the museum of apologies. (nauseated but still interested.) to see how we get it wrong again and again. Learn how to say sorry. how to manage our households knotted by fear plagued by doubt. How to remember You are my other Me.
I am working on becoming an expert on not being an expert. a birded wound so to speak. because I need to figure things out.
OPENING RESPONSE
by Bernice Lever
sThis mixed-media painting was recently on exhibit in the Art Gallery of the Jewish Community Centre Of Greater Vancouver. The poet, Bernice Lever, chose to write about her deeply moving interpretation of this piece.
OPENING RESPONSE:
by Bernice Lever
Thank you, Ava Lee Millman Fisher, for your amazing and diverse roomful of your artworks. Your "I SEE MUSIC" was on March 1 and still is a deeply emotional, but also uplifting display. I am honoured to give my poetic responses on our shared world with our eagle brothers and sisters.
********
Jubilations in Jerusalem
Temple music flows free between armed soldiers and faithful pilgrims joining all for an hour.
*******
Flowers with metal petals display the power of their lasting attraction.
*******
Ava Lee's art flies like dancing steps causing viewer's hearts to beat to her tunes.
OPENING RESPONSE:
by Bernice Lever
Thank you, Ava Lee Millman Fisher, for your amazing and diverse roomful of your artworks. Your "I SEE MUSIC" was on March 1 and still is a deeply emotional, but also uplifting display. I am honoured to give my poetic responses on our shared world with our eagle brothers and sisters.
********
Jubilations in Jerusalem
Temple music flows free between armed soldiers and faithful pilgrims joining all for an hour.
*******
Flowers with metal petals display the power of their lasting attraction.
*******
Ava Lee's art flies like dancing steps causing viewer's hearts to beat to her tunes.
THE COLOUR AND DANCE OF MUSIC
by Deborah L. Kelly
This mixed-media painting is currently on exhibit in the Art Gallery of the Jewish Community Centre Of Greater Vancouver. The poet, Deborah L. Kelly, chose to write about her deeply moving experience of the artwork.
The Colour and Dance of Music
by Deborah L. Kelly
(Poetic Interpretation of Art Exhibition, “I SEE MUSIC”,
by Ava Lee Millman Fisher)
As I stepped through the door,
I stopped: in a state of awe
I stood and looked; I felt.
Music was dancing, colour
was moving to the glorious
sway of artistic symphony.
So many worlds of music;
doorways that promise
mystery and bliss; I was
no longer a part of the mortal
world in which I lived.
From my first step into the room,
I was immediately transported
to a vast, divine level
of consciousness; lifted
into the magic of sound;
soul painted by the wonders
of such great beauty.
Each creation alone;
every creation combined,
held wonder for the seeker;
sustenance for the thirsty soul.
Sages, mystics, Shaman;
all know the secrets painted
here ~ filled with the radiant
colour and dance of music.
They will tell you there is
nothing in this great Creator’s
Universe which does not
contain music. Each atom
is an integral piece in the grand
and divine choralic melody.
To dream; yes, to dream
of eternal music will assure
you will always remain
uplifted in the Creator’s
care ~ when you are down,
just remember; there is music
everywhere.
The Colour and Dance of Music
by Deborah L. Kelly
(Poetic Interpretation of Art Exhibition, “I SEE MUSIC”,
by Ava Lee Millman Fisher)
As I stepped through the door,
I stopped: in a state of awe
I stood and looked; I felt.
Music was dancing, colour
was moving to the glorious
sway of artistic symphony.
So many worlds of music;
doorways that promise
mystery and bliss; I was
no longer a part of the mortal
world in which I lived.
From my first step into the room,
I was immediately transported
to a vast, divine level
of consciousness; lifted
into the magic of sound;
soul painted by the wonders
of such great beauty.
Each creation alone;
every creation combined,
held wonder for the seeker;
sustenance for the thirsty soul.
Sages, mystics, Shaman;
all know the secrets painted
here ~ filled with the radiant
colour and dance of music.
They will tell you there is
nothing in this great Creator’s
Universe which does not
contain music. Each atom
is an integral piece in the grand
and divine choralic melody.
To dream; yes, to dream
of eternal music will assure
you will always remain
uplifted in the Creator’s
care ~ when you are down,
just remember; there is music
everywhere.
THE SOUND OF COLOURS
by Lozan Yamolky
This mixed-media painting is currently on exhibit in the Art Gallery of the Jewish Community Centre Of Greater Vancouver. The poet, Lozan Yamolky, chose to write about her deeply moving experience of the artwork.
The sound of colors
by Lozan Yamolky
Praying trees
branching upwards
reaching the heavens
as if they are interceding,
praying on our behalf;
speaking to God.
The dove of peace
is fluttering with wings
spreading sparkles gold dust
hovering silently
as falling snow.
You see butterflies and birds in every image;
you don’t have to search for them,
they are there in every frame
reminding to take notice
of the beauty that surrounds you.
Lily pads glistening
in the bright full moon
inviting your toe to step
on the path they created for you.
Every ring of water wave you create
tings gently
as tiny silver bells
as a ballerina
dancing and twirling
on the water.
The hand of Hamsa
is assuring you,
welcoming you, saying:
You are safe here.
You are protected here.
You are meant to be here
so come in, Shalom.
Can you hear the colors now?
The sound of colors
by Lozan Yamolky
Praying trees
branching upwards
reaching the heavens
as if they are interceding,
praying on our behalf;
speaking to God.
The dove of peace
is fluttering with wings
spreading sparkles gold dust
hovering silently
as falling snow.
You see butterflies and birds in every image;
you don’t have to search for them,
they are there in every frame
reminding to take notice
of the beauty that surrounds you.
Lily pads glistening
in the bright full moon
inviting your toe to step
on the path they created for you.
Every ring of water wave you create
tings gently
as tiny silver bells
as a ballerina
dancing and twirling
on the water.
The hand of Hamsa
is assuring you,
welcoming you, saying:
You are safe here.
You are protected here.
You are meant to be here
so come in, Shalom.
Can you hear the colors now?
SYNAESTHESIA - THE MISSING MILES DAVIS ALBUM
by David Geary
This mixed-media painting is currently on exhibit in the Art Gallery of the Jewish Community Centre Of Greater Vancouver. The poet, David Geary, chose to write about his deeply moving experience of the artwork.
Synaesthesia – The Missing Miles Davis album
by David Geary (inspired by the JCC art of Ava Lee Millman Fisher)
I see music / and music sees me
seeing and playing are things we can agree… on… and on…
so Bird and Miles and Bud and godknows who else jazz legends were all playing together
all doing crazy solos……………………………!#\ trying to top each other
and it came to Thelonious Monk's turn and he paused
and he paused
and he paused
and then he took one finger and he hit one note
plonk
and he paused, and he paused
and he paused and
he paused
and he
raised his eyebrows as if to indicate
that’s it.
and Miles paused
and said:
Wild, Monk… Wild
And then they all started up again – playing hell – hell for leather.
SYNAESTHESIA – is it sensory overload or amnesia… I forget
Another time… another time with Miles and Monk in a car…
and Miles was driving the guys home from Newport, where they’d just laid down some wickedness
and Monk felt warm and fuzzy and maybe he’d had a funny cigarette,
either way, who’s to say, but Monk felt so he could say something
something like,
You know, Miles, tonight, tonight, my friend, you kind of messed up your solo on my song - Round Midnight.
And Miles, said – Uh huh. Uh huh, is that right? I messed up your Round Midnight?
And Miles paused… and slowed down… and pulled over
Hot tires on cold gravel
and Miles said:
GET OUT! Get the f*ck out of my car!
And there was a pause, and a BEAT. No one knew where to look. Up or down or all around.
So Monk got out. Hard shoes on cold gravel. And Miles drove away,
cursing the day.
Leaving Monk in the middle of nowhere
to think about all that
to think about
just how much Miles really loved hearing criticism
AND Miles never looked back… except when he faced the back of the stage, because the people – THE WHITE PEOPLE - had paid $500 bucks to see the black man blow is horn, but so what… right, so what.
Miles said: Space music'd be really something... but they don't have no gravity up there. You couldn't have no downbeat!
And when people called Miles a legend, he said: A legend is an old man with a cane known for what he used to do. I'm still doing it.
And Miles said: I have to change, it's like a curse
Miles Davis’s father said: Son, don’t have nothing to fall back on, otherwise, guess what, you’ll fall back.
AND when Monk was in New Zealand in the 1950s or 60s or something, he asked the promoter if he had any funny cigarettes. And the promoter said:
Um… funny cigarettes, um funny in what way? Like cigarettes that would make you laugh?
Yeah, said Monk, could do. Could do.
SYNAESTHESIA
SYNAESTHESIA
I SEE MUSIC
I feel black... and blues
I taste sounds / I feel smells / synaesthesia - all the senses blend
none start / none end
Syn - aes - thes - ia
i smell colours / i sense everything
I see your true colours flying - shining through
I know you
the trumpet hits me
I break the silence / i stroke oblivion / I kiss the void / i hear no evil
I taste fear and daylight
you've got the music in you
Almost blue, almost doing things we used to do
there's a girl here and she's almost you, almost blue.
Oh Chet Baker, let’s get lost
You with your teeth knocked out
in a bar fight
but, boy, could you play
all night and
all day
s y n a e s t h e s I a
Synaesthesia & & & & & & THE BIRTH of _C_OOL
OMG
It takes so much energy
to be cool, at the JCC
I’m wearing these sunglasses
that everyone keeps saying look… cool.
But now I can’t hardly read what I’ve written
Gonna have to make something up
Improvise
Appear wise
… I knew this kid
Who was… too cool for school
So cool, he got his pocket knife
And scratched out the S
And the H
off of the SCHOOL road sign
so it read: __ C__ OOL
Then he confessed right away
And the teacher declared he would get for his punishment – the wooden ruler across his hand…. SIX OF THE BEST!
You see, it was The Dark Ages
The 70s. New Zealand. Pre-Hobbits contact and Colonisation.
A time of Corporal Punishment
And so far back the teacher got out the brand new metric ruler.
The fancy one that had just replaced the good old yard ruler.
The teacher took Steven out into the corridor
so we could only cringe in the classroom
as we heard the SWWWWWWWWWWIIISSSSSSSH
Then THHWAAAAP!
… but then a clunk.
What the hell…
What the hell… was that?
And back into the classroom came my new best friend - Steven Reilly - the Huck Finn to my Tom Sawyer. The boy who had not only made the SCHOOL sign _C_OOL
But he’d broken the new ruler
And from that day on everything was always:
_C_OOL _C_00L _C_00L
SYNAESTHESIA - SKETCHES of SPAIN - Miles Davis (Reprise)
I bought the family, Miles Davis Sketches of Spain for Xmas
You know one of those presents you buy for everyone but is really for you.
And I put it on during Xmas dinner
It’s so…. C_ool
My mother paused… and then said:
Hmm… David, do we have to listen to funeral music while we eat?
She has a dark side.
When I buy __c__ool vintage clothes from Op-Shops and the Salvation Army, she always says: Oh…… and who died in that?
I did. I just died in it right now.
Cos I can’t change you.
Can’t take off your black hat.
And now I’m back there, at the dinner table, standing up slowly, walking slowly over to the stereo -- considering scratching the needle right across Miles Davis’s face to make a point, but that… that would be… petty.
So I take Miles off the turntable, blow dust gently off his face… phwoo… and put him gently back in his sleeve.
_C_OOL / BLACK / VINYL SYNAESTHESIA
Synaesthesia – The Missing Miles Davis album
by David Geary (inspired by the JCC art of Ava Lee Millman Fisher)
I see music / and music sees me
seeing and playing are things we can agree… on… and on…
so Bird and Miles and Bud and godknows who else jazz legends were all playing together
all doing crazy solos……………………………!#\ trying to top each other
and it came to Thelonious Monk's turn and he paused
and he paused
and he paused
and then he took one finger and he hit one note
plonk
and he paused, and he paused
and he paused and
he paused
and he
raised his eyebrows as if to indicate
that’s it.
and Miles paused
and said:
Wild, Monk… Wild
And then they all started up again – playing hell – hell for leather.
SYNAESTHESIA – is it sensory overload or amnesia… I forget
Another time… another time with Miles and Monk in a car…
and Miles was driving the guys home from Newport, where they’d just laid down some wickedness
and Monk felt warm and fuzzy and maybe he’d had a funny cigarette,
either way, who’s to say, but Monk felt so he could say something
something like,
You know, Miles, tonight, tonight, my friend, you kind of messed up your solo on my song - Round Midnight.
And Miles, said – Uh huh. Uh huh, is that right? I messed up your Round Midnight?
And Miles paused… and slowed down… and pulled over
Hot tires on cold gravel
and Miles said:
GET OUT! Get the f*ck out of my car!
And there was a pause, and a BEAT. No one knew where to look. Up or down or all around.
So Monk got out. Hard shoes on cold gravel. And Miles drove away,
cursing the day.
Leaving Monk in the middle of nowhere
to think about all that
to think about
just how much Miles really loved hearing criticism
AND Miles never looked back… except when he faced the back of the stage, because the people – THE WHITE PEOPLE - had paid $500 bucks to see the black man blow is horn, but so what… right, so what.
Miles said: Space music'd be really something... but they don't have no gravity up there. You couldn't have no downbeat!
And when people called Miles a legend, he said: A legend is an old man with a cane known for what he used to do. I'm still doing it.
And Miles said: I have to change, it's like a curse
Miles Davis’s father said: Son, don’t have nothing to fall back on, otherwise, guess what, you’ll fall back.
AND when Monk was in New Zealand in the 1950s or 60s or something, he asked the promoter if he had any funny cigarettes. And the promoter said:
Um… funny cigarettes, um funny in what way? Like cigarettes that would make you laugh?
Yeah, said Monk, could do. Could do.
SYNAESTHESIA
SYNAESTHESIA
I SEE MUSIC
I feel black... and blues
I taste sounds / I feel smells / synaesthesia - all the senses blend
none start / none end
Syn - aes - thes - ia
i smell colours / i sense everything
I see your true colours flying - shining through
I know you
the trumpet hits me
I break the silence / i stroke oblivion / I kiss the void / i hear no evil
I taste fear and daylight
you've got the music in you
Almost blue, almost doing things we used to do
there's a girl here and she's almost you, almost blue.
Oh Chet Baker, let’s get lost
You with your teeth knocked out
in a bar fight
but, boy, could you play
all night and
all day
s y n a e s t h e s I a
Synaesthesia & & & & & & THE BIRTH of _C_OOL
OMG
It takes so much energy
to be cool, at the JCC
I’m wearing these sunglasses
that everyone keeps saying look… cool.
But now I can’t hardly read what I’ve written
Gonna have to make something up
Improvise
Appear wise
… I knew this kid
Who was… too cool for school
So cool, he got his pocket knife
And scratched out the S
And the H
off of the SCHOOL road sign
so it read: __ C__ OOL
Then he confessed right away
And the teacher declared he would get for his punishment – the wooden ruler across his hand…. SIX OF THE BEST!
You see, it was The Dark Ages
The 70s. New Zealand. Pre-Hobbits contact and Colonisation.
A time of Corporal Punishment
And so far back the teacher got out the brand new metric ruler.
The fancy one that had just replaced the good old yard ruler.
The teacher took Steven out into the corridor
so we could only cringe in the classroom
as we heard the SWWWWWWWWWWIIISSSSSSSH
Then THHWAAAAP!
… but then a clunk.
What the hell…
What the hell… was that?
And back into the classroom came my new best friend - Steven Reilly - the Huck Finn to my Tom Sawyer. The boy who had not only made the SCHOOL sign _C_OOL
But he’d broken the new ruler
And from that day on everything was always:
_C_OOL _C_00L _C_00L
SYNAESTHESIA - SKETCHES of SPAIN - Miles Davis (Reprise)
I bought the family, Miles Davis Sketches of Spain for Xmas
You know one of those presents you buy for everyone but is really for you.
And I put it on during Xmas dinner
It’s so…. C_ool
My mother paused… and then said:
Hmm… David, do we have to listen to funeral music while we eat?
She has a dark side.
When I buy __c__ool vintage clothes from Op-Shops and the Salvation Army, she always says: Oh…… and who died in that?
I did. I just died in it right now.
Cos I can’t change you.
Can’t take off your black hat.
And now I’m back there, at the dinner table, standing up slowly, walking slowly over to the stereo -- considering scratching the needle right across Miles Davis’s face to make a point, but that… that would be… petty.
So I take Miles off the turntable, blow dust gently off his face… phwoo… and put him gently back in his sleeve.
_C_OOL / BLACK / VINYL SYNAESTHESIA
