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The Artist

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Published by Raventongue on March 12, 2012 - 14:42
from the ABC set Three Kinds of Heart Poems

During the years of gesture-drawing
And the study of anatomy
An artist learns to see the human body
As a mere sequence of volumes and hues
The concept goes to heaven,
Shape and form go to hell, and soon
The pencils cease to be a tribe and are tools;
Citizens in a military occupation, their bodies worn down,
Their colours siezed

One day, aching to be his winemad self again
The artist cuts a pomegranate from the tree to capture the concept of Red
And sits and stands immersed in still life until it is no more Red
Soon he is coating roses in wax,
And embalming flowers in glycerin
The battle for Red has begun.

Rome and romance, rustic rescue, Renaissance-red, Red revolution!
"Bloom, blush, bleed, burn!" he implores the world,
"I need more Red!"
The scarlet macaw next finds himself stuffed for study
And by the time the artist has moved on to portraits,
No one has seen the signs

The harlot, with rubies at her throat
Teenage Riding Hood and her Robin Hood
A gallant bullfighter and eventually
Even eight-year-old princess Rosehip lies preserved
& the Queen of Hearts has no more heir
Firefighters behead the artist in justice
And the vultures all agree that he tasted like taupe

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Comments

skinner_jennifer | March 12, 2012 - 15:02

Being someone who has enjoyed painting, I also
enjoyed this look into the eyes of another's
art.

A poem that is a painting in itself.

Beautiful.

Jenny.

Highhat | March 12, 2012 - 19:34

I agree with Jenny- a painting in itself this wonderful poem- brilliant aliteration. I honestly can't pick out a favourite line- they are all good..

blighters rock | March 12, 2012 - 20:17

The search for meaning can be a mission to madness and I love the way you've splashed around and plumped into colour here.
'his winemad self' leads me to believe he was never really himself unless without the wine; the ultimate lie that alcohol gives to its victims is that it makes us ourselves.
Many an artist's demise can be attributed to the bottle, the id (child) searching for the super ego (parent) in despair, the ego (adult) lost from the very first swig.

Raventongue | March 12, 2012 - 22:06

Thank you, Jennifer! No one's ever said that to me before.

Raventongue | March 12, 2012 - 22:08

Thanks Highhat- personally I think the last line is my favourite :)

Raventongue | March 12, 2012 - 22:08

Thanks BR, always good to hear from you! You've definitely caught onto an undertone there. The general theme is of disillusionment, but the artist's decisions have in truth been affected by alcohol.

Anvar2 | March 12, 2012 - 23:54

Love the energy and power here! A well-deserved cherry.

Silver Spun Sand | March 13, 2012 - 10:10

Absolutely loved this, and these couple of lines especially:-

Rome and romance, rustic rescue, Renaissance-red, Red revolution!
"Bloom, blush, bleed, burn!" he implores the world,

Great stuff;-)

Tina

Raventongue | March 13, 2012 - 19:23

Thanks, Anvar2, I'm glad that you enjoyed it!

Raventongue | March 13, 2012 - 19:25

Thanks SSS, those lines took me a bit of extra work ;)