More Icy Patterns

I loved the icicles that grew like glass fingers from the red Adirondack footstool during the recent ice storm.

Cable Knit Snow

At the top of my hill, I came across this cable knit snow in the road, formed of tire tracks. Sometimes individual patterns coincidentally come together to form something more beautiful and whole. The obvious parallel: poetry. The gorgeous surprise of lines and words entwined to make a poem.

In Around Us the Darkness is Deep, in the poem entitled "How These Words Happened," William Stafford writes this first stanza:

In winter, in the dark hours, when others
were asleep, I found these words and put them
together by their appetites and respect for
each other. In stillness, they jostled. They traded
meanings while pretending to have only one.
__________

"In stillness, they jostled." I like that. Knit together, the lines grow richer and wider, the poem invites us into its deeper pattern.

Tulip, Feather, Woodgrain

One line of poetry casts its shadow into the next, patterns repeat, contrasts in sound underscore meaning. Key words and images pop, leaping to the eye like glossy magenta against rough deep gray. The tendrils of each line extend into the next -- encircling, clinging, claiming -- until the poem is woven into a living whole, each word inextricable.

In this photo, I tried to capture the way repeating patterns, shapes, and shadows rippled through the tulip, feather, and woodgrain, uniting them in a still life.

Photo taken 5/13/08. Click on image to enlarge. For more about repeating patterns and contrast (and metaphor), scroll down to the 6/12/08 post.

Troll, Raku, Orkney Islands

Poor old troll, her skin is crackled and split from being left out in the entryway in all seasons. It gives her a fascinating texture, though, like a raku pot. Hence the photograph. There's something wonderfully satisfying about finding matching patterns in such different objects. There's a little thrill in placing them side by side, like distant cousins, and looking for a glimmer of family resemblance. When they're compared, there's both dissonance and strange harmony, which generates some interesting energy. Like a good metaphor. A little current of electricity. A surprise. Or a joke.

I have a collection of crackled raku pots, which are low-fired ceramic pots that have been removed from the kiln while still hot. I love the "crazing," or patterns of fractures in the glaze. It goes perfectly with the troll's complexion. Once inside the house, she had her eye on one of my favorite pieces, a small turquoise and ivory vase made by David Holmes, a potter from Shapinsay in the Orkney Islands, off the north coast of Scotland. She slipped into it like a hermit crab into a new shell. A perfect fit.

It's been a long-standing dream of mine to visit the Orkney Islands, but so far this little vase is as close as I've come. It's a very earthy and human piece. When it arrived in the mail, I was delighted to discover that it still smelled like smoke. The scent of my dream destination hovered like mystery and adventure in my kitchen. I still pick up the vase and sniff it from time to time, summoning standing stones, Vikings, runes, and migrating birds. I think of names like Skara Brae, Ring of Brodgar, Brough of Birsay, and Orphir. The smoky perfume has faded, but I can still detect a faint hint of the Orkney Islands.

The green raku pot (edge visible in lower photo) was made by Robert Briggs of Corvus Moon Ceramic Art Studio in Springfield, Missouri. Photos taken 6/11/08.