Friday, November 30, 2012

Show & Tell: Inspiration

There are two things that inspire me most: art and other artists. And when I say art, I mean all the various art forms: paint, design, dance, music, theatre, etc. I draw inspiration from seeing other's creativity and talents put to use, and I'd like to think that each time I view art it secretly implants some coding that I can put to use at later times--for example, if I see an exciting painting, I am hoping my brain will at least subconsciously store why it is so delightful--is it the composition, the subject matter, the colors, the shadows? Whatever the greatness is, I hope it is stored in my brain to be decoded as I practice and grow in my arts--graphic design/poetry writing.
Here are just a few examples of what inspires me:


Graphic Art

Unknown designer (perhaps a UB student or staff member); I am constantly inspired by the UB posters I see:


 

Art

My first and only (thus far) trip to MoMa (The Museum of Modern Art in NY). I adore Cezanne (apparently I was trying to blend with that shirt choice)! 



Dance

Ballet is my favorite dance form. This is my 13-year-old niece:



Music

I don't have pictures for music, but while I love all music genres, classical moves me most and my favorite instrument is the cello (Yo Yo Ma, anyone?).

Poetry

From one of my other blogs, you already know I like Billy Collins and Lucille Clifton. I also love Pablo Neruda.

Bird

It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.
When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.

~Pablo Neruda







Monday, November 26, 2012

Project 7 Article Take II

I changed some things and have written more. I am still not finished...


Tara Hart: her call to poetry

Tara Hart makes her living through words—not by selling them, but by teaching them—so it is not surprising that she turned to words to help her cope with a traumatic life event. After earning her Ph.D. in English Language and Literature from the University of Maryland, College Park, Hart began her teaching career as an associate professor at Howard Community College in 1997. She spent years teaching freshman how to formulate and research essays in college composition and imparting her love for the classics to students of English and British literature. While Hart taught an occasional creative writing class, her primary focus was on teaching composition and literature. She worked her way up the ranks to full professor and in 2001 Hart was appointed chair of the English/World Languages Division at Howard Community College. Once chair, her teaching duties lessened and eventually halted so she could focus on the numerous administrative duties that the position entailed.

Hart is very much connected to the literary world. In 2004, she facilitated a formal partnership between the college and the Howard County Poetry and Literature Society (HoCoPoLitSo). HoCoPoLitSo, whose mission is to enlarge the audience for the appreciation of contemporary literature, brings nationally and internationally renowned poets and writers to our community. She co-chairs the HoCoPoLitSo Board of Directors and is also on the Friends of the Howard County Library System Board.

While Hart is an avid supporter and appreciator of poetry, at this time in her life, “poet” was not a role that came to mind. Though she began writing poetry at age eight (a poem of hers was published in grade school) and wrote on and off through the years, she did not fervently pursue the art. And while elated to have a poem, “The Platform of Absolute Rest”, published in the Baltimore City Paper in 2001, Hart primarily kept her writing to herself and had no strong desire to send her poems out. In 2004, however, this would change.

Hart and her husband Stephen Horvath, also an administrator at Howard Community College, were expecting their first child in 2004. Hart went into labor four months early and delivered Tessa Hart Horvath on October 12 who weighed just over one pound. In addition to being severely premature, Tessa was born with a rare blood disease—she died just five days later. No one can ever prepare for the death of a loved one, especially a child. Hart and her husband were drowning in sorrow and it was at this time poetry became as vital to Hart as breathing.

I sat down with Hart in April 2011 to talk about her poetry. She told me that the loss of her first daughter filled her with a “compelling need to read more poetry and to write to try to capture for [herself] or articulate what [she] was going through.” For Hart, poetry is not so much a profession as it is a calling, and a poet is something that you become. She thinks we are all poets, but in varying degrees of practice and acknowledgment. In 2004, poetry called to her in a way it had not before; it became her sustenance, something she needed, and a necessary part of her day and life.

The loss of Hart’s daughter filled her not only with sorrow, but also with anger. She was angry at circumstance, angry at God, angry at the church’s lack of solace in her time of need and grief. In 200?, Hart penned “Patronized,” the pinnacle poem that pushed her to reexamine the role of poetry in her life. “Patronized” is about the inadequacy of Catholic St. Gerard, the patron saint of expectant mothers, to ease Hart’s pain at the loss of her daughter. In the summer of 2010, Hart submitted “Patronized” for consideration in the Little Patuxent Review, Columbia, Maryland’s literary journal. “Patronized” was published and subsequently nominated for the Pushcart Prize.

The Pushcart Prize, awarded by Pushcart Press, honors writers of short stories, poetry, and essays who have been published in small presses. Hundreds of presses and thousands of writers of short stories, poetry and essays have been represented in the pages of their annual collections. Writers who were first noticed here include: Raymond Carver, Tim O’Brien, Jayne Anne Phillips, Charles Baxter, Andre Dubus, Susan Minot, Mona Simpson, John Irving, Rick Moody, and many more.       
   
Susan Thornton Hobby, consulting editor at the LPR who nominated Tara’s poem, has this to say about “Patronized”: “Its protagonist’s voice–both weary and sassy with grief–speaks a sincere reaction to the sentimentalized saint, who is clearly inadequate to ease her pain. The clever word play and religious imagery contrast and blend to create a poem that both cries out in grief and raises a sarcastic protest to sacred comfort.”

In 2011, “Patronized” won the Pushcart Prize.

Hart explained to me that though being nominated was an honor, she did not expect to win as the Pushcart Prize is very competitive and they receive thousands upon thousands of nominations a year. And when she won, she looked at it as a stroke of luck—that is until an acquaintance made mention to Hart that she knows hundreds of people who’ve been nominated but no one who won. This person told Hart to look at it as a wake-up call from the universe—she listened.

Hart decided to take her poetry more seriously. She was approved for a sabbatical project to revamp the creative writing program, so Hart added the task of writing a poetry chapbook. During her sabbatical, Hart drew inspiration from reading poetry and attending poetry readings. She was particularly inspired by Billy Collins because, as she told me, “he does a wonderful job explaining his craft as well as writing wonderful poems.” Collins inspires Hart to be the best at the craft by reminding her not to be too obscure. By the end of her sabbatical, Hart produced a 24 poem chapbook, The Colors of Absence. Hart’s poems take the reader on a journey of loss and healing, including “Patronized” and other poems written about the loss of her first child and poems written about Hart’s second and third children. 

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Project 7 Article Draft

My topic is poetry and I decided to write a profile piece on my friend Tara Hart, a poet whom I created a chapbook for last year as one of my projects for Visual and Verbal Rhetoric. The obvious choice for this piece is in Poets & Writers magazine--I really don't know if I can see it fitting anywhere else. If you have other magazine suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Stephanie warned me that profiles are difficult to write--any and all feedback is welcome. I only have half of the article written at this time.


Tara Hart: her call to poetry

Tara Hart makes her living through words—not by selling them, but by teaching them—so it is not surprising that she turned to words to help her cope with a traumatic life event. After earning her Ph.D. in English Language and Literature from the University of Maryland, College Park, Hart began her teaching career as an associate professor at Howard Community College in 1997. She spent years teaching freshman how to formulate and research essays in college composition and imparting her love for the classics to students of English and British literature. While Hart taught an occasional creative writing class, her primary focus was on teaching composition and literature. She worked her way up the ranks to full professor and in 2001 Hart was appointed chair of the English/World Languages Division at Howard Community College. Once chair, her teaching duties lessened and eventually halted so she could focus on the numerous administrative duties that the position entailed.

At this time in her life, “poet” was not a title one would associate with Hart. She began writing poetry at age eight and had a poem published in grade school. She wrote on and off growing up and wrote more seriously in graduate school, but she did not fervently pursue the art. Even though Hart was elated to have a poem, “The Platform of Absolute Rest”, published in the Baltimore City Paper in 2001, she primarily kept her writing to herself and had no strong desire to send her poems out. In 2004, however, this would change.

Hart and her husband Stephen Horvath, also an administrator at Howard Community College, were expecting their first child in 2004. Hart went into labor four months early and delivered Tessa Hart Horvath on October 12 who weighed just over one pound. In addition to being severely premature, Tessa was born with a rare blood disease—she died just five days later. No one can ever prepare for the death of a loved one, especially a child. Hart and her husband were drowning in sorrow and it was at this time poetry became as vital to Hart as breathing.

I sat down with Hart in April 2011 to talk about her poetry. She told me that the loss of her first daughter filled her with a “compelling need to read more poetry and to write to try to capture for [herself] or articulate what [she] was going through.” For Hart, poetry is not so much a profession as it is a calling, and a poet is something that you become. She thinks we are all poets, but in varying degrees of practice and acknowledgment. In 2004, poetry called to her in a way it had not before; it became her sustenance, something she needed, and a necessary part of her day and life.

The loss of Hart’s daughter filled her not only with sorrow, but also with anger. She was angry at circumstance, angry at God, angry at the church’s lack of solace in her time of need and grief. In 200?, she wrote “Patronized,” the pinnacle poem that ...[to be continued]


I Spy

I am constantly drawn to design. I essentially double my time at stores because I stop and stare at design examples (ads, packaging, magazines). Below are a few examples that I spied with my designer's eye:

I received this card in the mail from Hallmark and it reminded me of our non-religious holiday card assignment. This is a great example of using typography as design:


This is a clothing drive ad I saw hanging at work--I love the saturated colors, the way "clothing" bleeds into the border, and the layout:


This is hanging up in my local Target--I like the colors, the curved baseline, and the mix of small and large caps:


This reminded me of my dog card project:


I love the simplicity of this card and think to myself--I can do this (and should):


This reminded me of our discussion in class about products doing double-duty--being a product and supporting a cause (Tom's Shoes):



I saw this ad on my table at a restaurant. I like the use of the exaggerated "h" and contrast of sans serif and serif headings. I also love the color palette:


This is a board in the hallways of Howard Community College. I like the use of dimensions--the woman literally pops off of the board in her tissue paper dress:


Monday, November 19, 2012

Comic Book Jacket for Classic Literature

I love book jacket design, especially redesign. I'm not sure what inspired Penguin Classics to design this cover, but oh aren't you glad they did?



Friday, November 16, 2012

Show&Tell: Poetry

My hobby is poetry, although I'm still not sure if I will be writing specifically about the Geraldine Dodge Poetry or about chapbooks. Here are a few poetic trinkets:

Giving Depth to the Secular

To me, Billy Collins is king of taking something ordinary and metamorphosing it into something meaningful. In the majority of his poems, he is in a secular setting talking about ordinary, every day items--windows, rooms, cigarettes, food, hats, etc., but he ends up either discussing significant topics like death or transporting you to heaven. I believe it was Billy Collins who said that you cannot sit down to write a poem about love, or you will write a terrible love poem--you need a way in. His way in is through ordinary objects. For example, he uses a hat to talk about the death of his father in his poem "The Death of the Hat". I have a huge crush on Billy--I feel like we are on a first name basis given that I met him twice (and by met, I mean stood in line nervously awaiting his signature struggling to think of something clever or witty to say and completely failing miserably). I must say for all my supposed charm, I seem to flounder around poets and writers. I actually stalked Mark Dohty and his partner during lunch at the Dodge festival for Dohty's autograph (my first one ever). I think the restraining order ends this year.

This poem is one of my Billy favorites:

This Much I Do Remember 


It was after dinner.
You were talking to me across the table
about something or other,
a greyhound you had seen that day
or a song you liked,

and I was looking past you
over your bare shoulder
at the three oranges lying
on the kitchen counter
next to the small electric bean grinder,
which was also orange,
and the orange and white cruets for vinegar and oil.

All of which converged
into a random still life,
so fastened together by the hasp of color,
and so fixed behind the animated
foreground of your
talking and smiling,
gesturing and pouring wine,
and the camber of you shoulders

that I could feel it being painted within me,
brushed on the wall of my skull,
while the tone of your voice
lifted and fell in its flight,
and the three oranges
remained fixed on the counter
the way that stars are said
to be fixed in the universe.

Then all of the moments of the past
began to line up behind that moment
and all of the moments to come
assembled in front of it in a long row,
giving me reason to believe
that this was a moment I had rescued
from millions that rush out of sight
into a darkness behind the eyes.

Even after I have forgotten what year it is,
my middle name,
and the meaning of money,
I will still carry in my pocket
the small coin of that moment,
minted in the kingdom
that we pace through every day.

- Billy Collins




Billy Collins at The Geraldine Dodge Poetry Festival, 2008


















Meet the Queen

If Billy is king, Lucille Clifton is queen. Clifton's poems are extremely accessible with their simple word choice, short length, and lack of adornment, but don't let that fool you--they are rich with meaning. She writes primarily about her family. Like Randy Jackson shamelessly dropping Mariah Carey's name on American Idol, I will drop that Lucille Clifton held my goddaughter although I was not there to witness it. Even though Clifton lived in Columbia, my neck of the woods, and was extremely approachable, I was too shy to ask her for her autograph at Dodge. Sadly, Clifton passed away in 2010. Below is one of my favorite poems that gives voice to something seemingly ordinary--a bottle of syrup:

aunt jemima


white folks say i remind them

of home       i who have been homeless
all my life except for their
kitchen cabinets

i who have made the best
of everything
pancakes      batter for chicken
my life

the shelf on which i sit
between the flour and cornmeal
is thick with dreams
oh how i long for

my own syrup
rich as blood
my true nephews      my nieces
my kitchen      my family
my home

Lucille Clifton at The Geraldine Dodge Poetry Festival, 2008