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| © Ravenna Taylor 2004, "In Esso In Ero," collage, 11 x 9 inches (click to enlarge) |
Dim-lit damp Monday
breezes soaked with smells
of fallen leaves.
There's a story to tell
about October
-- but this air won't tell that story.
Thursday had called
for the hat brimmed against unbroken sun.
That man couldn't see
the grey, or the shadowed creases.
Or maybe he just needed an audience,
the way some men do.
I wonder now
not about him
about being a woman
of a certain age
about never quite unbeing the uncertain age.
There's a story to tell
but this air won't tell it.
breezes soaked with smells
of fallen leaves.
There's a story to tell
about October
-- but this air won't tell that story.
Thursday had called
for the hat brimmed against unbroken sun.
That man couldn't see
the grey, or the shadowed creases.
Or maybe he just needed an audience,
the way some men do.
I wonder now
not about him
about being a woman
of a certain age
about never quite unbeing the uncertain age.
There's a story to tell
but this air won't tell it.
©2013 Ravenna Taylor
Ravenna, I'm so intrigued by this collage. I hope you tell us more about it. I've been rethinking how I'm going to use images in "Trencadis" and collages are becoming more attractive. I want to know the story of the 'ticket' around which the collage seems to be 'glued'.
ReplyDeletehi Elizabeth - I tried to reply to your comment yesterday, but being on my iPad seemed to present an issue for this interface.
DeleteAnyway, to answer your question: I made this collage at a time of transition in my life, between living in San Francisco and coming to western New Jersey provisionally, not even sure where we would decide to end up. In between, we traveled for six or seven weeks, the longest I've ever been away all at once. I think it was that long, or maybe it just seemed that long (in fact we'd intended longer, but I got tired of it and we went home). Upon returning, I made this collage, which incorporates a number of things that I'd collected or made along the way: tickets to art sites in Europe, watercolors I'd made, a gift of some Japanese paper. These were added together with fragments of things I already had, prints, drawings and a poem I'd written. The ticket at the top originally spelled out "Ingresso intero"; I liked to imagine that my blocking out a few letters created words in a blended language, whose meaning might or might not be guessed by viewers.
Thank you for asking.