fracture

is it the fact that i have been tucked under

my mother's skirt for the last four months

that I have suddenly become really aware

of fabric, tapestry and its potential?

a work in progress.

fracture © 2010. from the compound series.

tucked under her skirt

i am exposed to her flesh

and to the fabric that swings gently from

her hips.

swish, swish, swish.

her body broken and aged, distorted

now in sleep, a permanent sorrow

has taken the place of rest. Nightmares

sound like whines, that God cant reach.

shriek, shriek, shriek

Yet she lays in tormented rest

unshaken; steady in her faith,

comforted without gestures.

A miracle transpired.

inversion

My trekking back to the erudite North is

what the doctor ordered. The wheels have

gathered their tyre rough-edged black back.

I am ready to attack, pounce and step outside of

any known comfort zone.

Tonight I feel able, for the first time in

months. My mind, a mass of clouds, but

clarity and silence slivering its way through.

Today, a kind compatriot whispered to

me about destination and considering

art as an entity belonging in a physical

place/space. A definition that anchored me

in feeling comfortable to arrive to an end, not a

finality but a beginning to think about work

on walls, within a boundary of material.

I am considering pages again- paper and its

tactility- as an invitation to produce work

on transitions has made its way on my list

of gracious opportunities.

Up North contains a collection of unforeseen treasure.

Not some wayward dream of an easy road,

but a budding network of island aromas that wash over

me in image and words. Tonight I am grateful for my mind,

for the collection of people around me and mostly

for the embedded passion I have for the picture, the scrawl,

the murmur, the motion, the light, the color and the rendering

of imaginations and souls.

stir it up!

She threw a musky

netting over our heads

to protect us from the noise that

bellowed up from the inside out

when isolation was confused with

the stillness of silent tongues.

© 2010

Diffusion Magazine: Ortus

My work has been selected to be included

and featured in Diffusion Magazine

Volume III, 2011 –

Group Showcase

Theme: Ortus (Latin) — rise, become visible, appear, birth, origin.

Along side other artists

Barbara J. Dombach

Becky Ramotowski

Brenda Biondo

Brian Jolley

Brianna Burnett

Buzzy Sullivan

Catie Soldan

Catlin Harrison

Colin Edgington

Deon Reynolds

Elspeth Maxwell

Gail Pine

Grace Kim

Greg Kemp

Heather Leavitt

Holly Bynoe

Jason Kelley

Jeffrey Crowe

Jessica Somers

John Bridges

Juliana Cala

Kirsten Hoving

Laura Hartford

Lisa McCarty

Lori Bell

Matt Frantz

Michael Kirchoff

Michel Pincaut

Nicole Campanello

Niniane Kelley

Polly Chandler

Rebecca Clark

Rebecca Harlan

Richard Hricko

Rómulo Peña

Ross Sonnenberg

Ryan Zoghlin

S. Gayle Stevens

Tarja Trygg

Teresa Nabais

Arc Magazine Survey

Dear Friends, Family and Colleagues,

I want to make you aware that Nadia Huggins and I have

decided to collaborate on our first project which will be the

production of a quarterly Arts and Culture E-Magazine dedicated

to the evolution and growth of Caribbean Art.

We are now in the inception phase of planning and we would

like to gather some critical information from the public before

we go ahead. We have put together a short survey and would deeply

appreciate it if you take the time to go through it and give us your honest

feedback.

The information gathered from this, will prompt us on how to proceed

and move on with our conceptual ideas on how to bring this new venture

to life. Thank you.

Please find the survey here:

http://survey.constantcontact.com/survey/a07e30hoxqzgdnd5njp/start

Kindest Regards

H

doppelgänger

this morning trails to the east side of

the porch, led my gaze to rest upon

the season's declining sapodilla clusters, brown,

sparse and turning the concrete a warm mahogany.

My ears hearing your voice as you called,

head rearing to your valiant direction. Eyes

unfocused for a confusing particle of a second,

while I realize again for what must be

the millionth time, that men in dark blue

dress shirts clinging to their skin in this dusky

humidity-

are only reminder that you are gone.

oh captain my captain © 2010