The Importance of the Small and Common - An Artist on Emily Dickenson & William Carlos Williams

It is August, and except in the Hamptons, the NYC art world seems to be on vacation. Walk the streets of Chelsea and gallery after gallery is closed.

So, in my way, I am taking a blog “vacation” from my usual topics by writing about two of my favorite poets and their poems. They have inspired me since I was a girl and I hope they inspire you, too.

In their own way, I suppose they inspired the idea of UnGraven Image. Each poem is about small things, and of course UnGraven Image focuses on the stroke, which can be very small and in painting: common.

The first one I learned is by Emily Dickenson. For the record I attended P.S. 75 in Manhattan, NY, which is also the Emily Dickenson School. It wasn't until later, when I was in Hunter College High School, then for me middle school, that I discovered who Emily Dickenson actually was. She immediately became one of my favorite poets due to her works not my elementary school. Here is the poem I memorized and am creating a small homage artwork to in the garden of my studio-home in Southampton, NY.

“The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee – a clover any time to him is aristocracy.”

The other small homage in my garden currently in the works is to William Carlos Williams' poem: “So much depends upon the red wheelbarrow, glazed with rain water besides the white chickens.”

Notably each poem is just one sentence long.

Oddly, when I attended the Emily Dickenson School, in sixth grade, my class was all asked to memorize a poem and recite it. We could choose our poem. I do not recall anyone selecting Dickenson. I thought she was a scientist, myself. While the rest of the class wowed each other with Shakespeare, Byron, Tennyson, etc., I stood up and recited Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky, “Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gyibol in the wabe:” It is one of the moments of my young childhood I am most proud of, although the class and teacher challenged me. However, once I proved it was actually in a book of poetry, I got away with it, as did Lewis Carroll. Sometimes nonsense makes more sense that what is touted as realistic – politics and foreign policy often being examples of that for all parties.

Labeling me as an iconoclast will only please me. It is not that I want to be an iconoclast; I just somehow fail to see that the Emperor is wearing any clothes. I see things my own way and when I try to live otherwise, I have learned the hard way that my life goes awry.

I suppose that founding a new theory of art de facto makes me an iconoclast, even in todays' contemporary art worlds where just about anything can be – and is – labeled as art. Founding a new art theory based on symbol-strokes (that is thus destined to become a movement as that is what seems to happen) probably makes me an iconoclast whether I like it or not.

Pissarro, Braque and Picasso, Dali and, Pollack and Rothko, Warhol and Lichenststein, etc., are all iconoclasts. Oh, well, I guess artists are often iconoclasts. Diskenson and Williams certainly were.

Anyway—Dickenson. Probably the poet I resonate to best. The “Pedigree of Honey”, I have admired since I was a girl for its simplicity and honesty. Dickenson sees into the soul – as does her bee.

There is a saying in the Talmud that I rephrase into modern English: “Who is wise? The person who can learn from anyone.” That person is Dickenson's bee. The clover of that bee is simple, honest, universal – everyman (person) in the best sense.

Some of my best teachers as an artist and more importantly as a human being, have been people with Downs Syndrome or who are autistic, people who were poor and never went beyond eighth grade, children – little children (including my granddaughter Anna) who reawaken the wonder of seeing a bug or splashing in the rain, and also the beloved four legged “people” that are members of my family (dogs and cats) who taught me about forgiveness and acceptance and discernment.

The other treasured small poem is also universal and focused on what is small. William Carlos Williams points out that the most simple, elemental moments and functions are all about the essence of life.

In a time where we focus upon ecology and preservation, Williams' poem resonates in ways he probably never imagined. Granted, chickens are not an endangered species. But, today, many species are, and so much may well depend upon them. We are only just discovering the links to our environment and healing properties of other forms of life.

There is another aspect to this poem. If so much depends upon the simplest gesture so much depends upon our smallest gesture and word.

As an artist, I pour over texts and related images to find the best ones for a painting. All I do is paint strokes, and the strokes add up to become a painting. This has informed my daily life as I strive to find the best, even most encouraging, words to say. It is not easy.

I have learned that what is most significant is something small, maybe even overlooked, a word of encouragement, a pat on the back, a smile, a small painting made of small strokes of hope.

So, that's my vacation blog. Keep doing the small good stuff. Appreciate the small moments of serenity, beauty and friendliness. It adds up.

August 23, 2007