I’m stepping out of my comfort zone, pushing myself to stretch my creative muscle and continue to learn. That’s nothing new (not really). It feels like my life has been in flux for the past 6 years, shifting from one life-altering upheaval to the next.
This evolution is self-inflicted, though. I’ve found myself feeling stagnant and needing to be jolted out of my near zombie state.
I’ve thought about embarking on this new path for a while, and with the help and push from just the right people- here it is. My first poem video.
If you spend the 2 minutes watching it, I would appreciate any feedback, reactions, or suggestions you may have.
Here, poetry and art collide; and, more than anything, I hope it inspires you to keep (or start) creating.
If you follow my social media, you will have heard by now that my first book is nearing it’s official release date. This collection of poems has been a labor of love over the past (nearly) 4 years, and I am excited to share it with the world.
When imagining the look and feel of a physical book I could hold in my hands, I struggled to visualize the cover. I wanted something that would capture the emotional chaos that grief brings and yet something that was beautiful and rich in color. For months I considered various options, only to discard each in frustration. It was like trying to find the right outfit for that big, important occasion. This dress fit just right but was the wrong color. That suit was the perfect color but was unflattering when tried on. And so on…
Until finally it dawned on me. The answer was hanging right in front of me all along!
“Windward” by Amber Voorhies
The very first time I saw this painting by my friend Amber Voorhies, I felt an instant connection to it. It was like she had gotten into my head and painted my emotions. Deep and dark, roiling – moving into light, airy hope. I asked her about it several times over the course of a few months, until finally, when I could not stop thinking about it, I bought it and brought it home with me.
It hangs on the main wall in my bedroom where I can see it when I wake up each morning.
It is a special thing when one form of creativity sparks another form and inspires another to create. I am grateful to the makers and creators in my life. They keep me inspired and encourage me to keep reaching for more.
Amber is a talented artist. I encourage you to visit her website. You may find something there that ignites a spark with in you.
There is an abstract painting that hangs on the wall beside my bed. It moves from the darkest black in the bottom left corner and morphs in color, tone, and mood as it moves upward. Strokes of black blend into magenta, bleed into ruby red before contorting into midnight blue. Mood shifts from the deepest pit of despair to a horizon of loneliness and longing. Hope swirls upward, a light gray floating just out of reach. Lightening here, breaking there to reveal the blue of a bright sky barely peeking through.
There are 2 tiny stars, almost invisible. Clearly an intention of the artist to some unknown purpose. I think about the twin divinity of those bodies and wonder at the artist’s desire to hide some meaning in her work. Then I am reminded of the duality of our creation. Man and woman. Light and dark. Good and evil. Joy and sorrow. And I know we are not meant to be alone.
Every morning upon opening my eyes I turn my face to the right and consider my place in that painting, willing myself to choose a color as far from that bottom left as I can reasonably attain. I close my eyes trying to imagine the soft air of hope encircling me, and I choose once more to let my feet hit the floor.
Shelley Jinks Johnson 