Scratch (more) words. Make (more) art.

This is how it goes: You crack open a door to discovery and find an even larger room aglow with delights.

And so, in my fascination for altered books, I found Karen Hatzigeorgiou, an artist creating contemporary art in the form of altered books and collage. To say her work is stunning is an understatement. It’s a wonderful balance of color and meaning, image and substance. I could sing her praises for paragraphs but I will direct you to the real thing instead: http://karenswhimsy.com.

I am especially inspired by The Art of Happiness. In the poet/artist’s hand, the 1935 book, of the same title, became a tool for emotional exploration. The result is a work-in-progress journal of touching color, collage and ‘found poetry.' (Page 18 is shown above).

“The Art of Happiness is sometimes a book of sadness, disillusionment, and discontent,” explains Karen. “Still, it's important to note that it is also a book with an underlying current of optimism. And in that way, it has become much more of an altered book journal than I ever intended.”

Scratch Words, Make Art

I’m hot off the heels of Forecast, the collaborative painting-poetry exhibition at Weilworks Gallery in Denver, and riding the joy of word-art creations. In fact, I now see creative collaborations at every turn, and I couldn’t be happier.

My latest discovery was found at a website dedicated to Altered Books (I found this site through StumbleUpon, another wonderful creation. More on that in another post).

The site showcases visual poetry created by artists and writers who have blended forms by scribbling, painting and scratching through books. From a process of word elimination, poetry and art emerge. It’s clever, creative and fun.

Here’s the Idea: Cut the bindings off books found at used bookstores or thrift stores. Find poems in the pages by the process of obliteration. Put pages in the mail and send them around the world. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Many of these pages have been turned into books. Some into pages circling the globe. Still others are works of art, suitable for framing. The possibilities are endless, and I can’t wait to start!

The piece at right, Doubletake Poem 2, is by Donna Kuhn, a California artist.

Yes, exactly.

"Love is an action word."

- Pastor Kenneth Roberts
Anchor of Hope Church
Denver, Colorado

Feed My Mind: Read!

I’m hungry for books. Banned Books Week is approaching and I am not-so-subtly hoarding good reads to sustain me through the painful reality that others want to keep me – and you – from reading what we choose.

I honestly can’t imagine a life without the books that supported and fed me along the path of childhood, adolescence and into ever-changing adulthood. Can you?

My list of favorite books is always evolving. Here’s a few I love lately:

Ditch-tender by Julia Levine
A stunning poetry collection that is both spare and rich. The California psychotherapist-slash-poet writes in a deep but accessible style that pierces and punctures all the right places.

Dixmont, by Rick Campbell
This Florida poet and professor (and director of Anhinga Press) is a master of the poetic narrative. His latest collection (named after the asylum where his mother once lived) is a great offering of tender insight and wry humor that examines the everyday motions of marriage, parenting, baseball and more.

Torch, by Cheryl Strayed
For her debut novel, the Portland, Oregon writer penned a tugging story of loss. This is a can’t-put-down-book that brought me to tears, and it was chosen as a 2007 "Everybody Reads - Portland" selection.

What are you reading? Let’s celebrate Banned Books Week with a feast of words & ideas that make life rich, ripe and meaningful.

Telling

I’m not a fan of the memoir. All that disclosure. All that self-absorbed recall. In this age of tell-all and tell it well, my tastes seem woefully out of step.

When it comes to reading for pleasure (and what other kind of reading is there, really?), I want my books full of characters and tone, and a plot that offers discovery, even a painfully beautiful reckoning. I don’t go for the light stuff (too often) but I don’t want real life – the memoir -- to intrude on my mental adventure.

So it is with great surprise that I find myself immersed in Telling, A Memoir of Rape and Recovery by Patricia Weaver Francisco.

It is painful and searing and so beautifully written that I read it in almost one sitting. I only put the book down so I could step away to breathe. When the book was published in 1999, it was hailed as sad and wise, with writing both lyrical and electrifying.

Days before I turned the first page, I circled the book with apprehension, afraid to dive into such sorrow. But in just the first chapter, I was clinging to a life raft of pain, my knuckles worn and grateful. Weaver Francisco said she wrote this book for “the men and women who are friends and spouses and fathers and sisters of rape survivors. It's a terribly difficult position to be in. Most of us have no idea what happens to a woman afterward, what to expect or what a survivor might need. We don't even know what questions to ask.”

I still don’t know. But I feel closer to the conversation now. With Telling, a heavy door has opened just enough to offer a slice of thin light.