Archive for the ‘The Woodlands Texas’ Tag
Facepainting (The Woodlands Art Festival, April 2008) — Image by kenne
All women are wounded
Who gather berries, dibble in mottled light,
Turn white roots from humus, crack nuts on stone
High upland with squinted eye
or rest in cedar shade.
— from Praise for Sick Women by Gary Snyder
Like this:
Like Loading...
Corner Shadows — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
Mother’s Boy (August 26, 2006) — Image by Joy
In the summer of 2006, we spent three months trying to get rid of a systemic infection that resulted from hip surgery.
Mother passed away on September 8, 2006, only a couple of weeks after Joy took this picture.
Everyone had convinced me that she was ready to stop fighting —
the pain was too much.
— kenne
*****
Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.
— C. S. Lewis
Like this:
Like Loading...
Patio Art (December 2005) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Pinwheel and windmill
Standing tall with the jade plant
In patio pot.
— kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
The Blanton Project Cover (Oil Field Girls, 1940, by JerryBywaters) — Image by kenne
In 2009, Borderlands — Texas Poetry Review published a Special Ekphrastic Poetry Issue.
Founded in 1992, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review was created to respond to the Gulf War and is a literary journal based in Austin, Texas. They publish poetry, visual art, book reviews, and essays. The journal continues to garner a national readership, distributed across the U.S., with contributors worldwide.
The 2009 special issue contains 89 ekphrastic poems written about works of art in the Jack S. Blanton Museum of Art at the University of Texas at Austin, one of the largest university art museums in the U.S. In March of 2009, the Writers in Performance Series at Lone Star College — Montgomery presented The Blanton Project, where some of the poets read their ekphrastic poems. One such poem was Oil Field Girls on the Jerry Bywaters painting, Oil Field Girls.
Oil Field Girls
Blue skies and the open road
until an hour and a half beyond San Angelo
and the highway yields to brazen curves.
It’s not their thumbs
that make you slow the red Road roadster,
nor even the vestal boots
that look to plant a few fresh kicks.
As stately as an oil rig
set beneath miasmic clouds,
they beckon restless wanderers
who never staked a wildcat claim.
These desperate locals travel lightly
yet do not need a map
to know which way is out.
Because it does not do to gawk,
you press your bootles foot against the gas
and hope next curve to find a Coke.
— Steven G. Kellman
After the readings were completed, the poets were invited to a reception at my home.
Click here to see photos from the reading and the reception.
— kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
“The Dean” (November 8, 2001) — HDR Image Taken With My Camera
Lone Star College — Montgomery
There’s a long list of things I have done, and looking back, I don’t know how —
regardless, it’s always about perseverance.
— kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
James (May 9, 2010) — Image by kenne
Look mommy, no hands!
Like this:
Like Loading...
Chase (December 24, 2005) — Image by kenne
(The pillow he is resting on, we still have it on our couch.)
“When you photograph people in color, you photograph their clothes.
But when you photograph people in black and white, you photograph their souls!”
— Ted Grant
Like this:
Like Loading...
Lake Robbins Bridge, The Woodlands, Texas (2003) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
We should be blessed if we lived in the present always,
and took advantage of every accident that befell us,
like the grass which confesses the influence of the
slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our
time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities . . .
We loiter in winter while it is already spring.
— Henry David Thoreau
Like this:
Like Loading...
The Blues On Campus (Lone Star College, Montgomery – 02/19/03) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“The blues are the roots and the other musics are the fruits.
It’s better keeping the roots alive,
because it means better fruits from now on.
The blues are the roots of all American music.
As long as American music survives, so will the blues.”
Like this:
Like Loading...
(Click on any image to see in a slideshow format.)
Christmas Over The Last Couple of Decades — Images by kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
Lake Robbins Bridge — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Drawn within its midst
Are signs that could be comprehended
The same signs I thought I could interpret
These signs seem to be nothing
They could mean something
Still in these unknown dreams
It’s snippet visions of flashback
Clicking like the camera’s shutter
Blindsided by the flash
Surrounded by a support swarm of bees
Hope and dream maybe it’s own fantasy
Could be the dreams that I thought of
The dreams that I could have wished
A dream that could be a tell-all tale
This dream could be just a fantasy
Maybe a fate of its own destiny
If I could only get its true impact
This interpretation could be crossroads
A crossroad that could answer it all
It could free me or imprison me
Could be the downfall or success
Maybe an ending with sorrow or joy
Might be answered in my next lifeline
— Sarah Mutabari
Like this:
Like Loading...
Lowell Mick White Reading at the 2008 Walt Whitman Birthday Celebration in Conroe, Texas — Image by kenne
A Supermarket in California
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I
walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-
conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the
neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping
at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in
the tomatoes!—and you, García Lorca, what were you doing
down by the watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking
among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork
chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following
you, and followed in my imagination by the store detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary
fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and
never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in a hour.
Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add
shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we’ll both be lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue
automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what
America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you
got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear
on the black waters of Lethe?
— Allen Ginsberg
Like this:
Like Loading...
Lake Woodlands Sea Serpent (1996) — Image by kenne
Right Place At The Right Time
Dressed for work, I open
the front door to a sun
masked in a morning fog.
Immediately, an image came
to mind of the Lake Woodlands
sea serpent five miles to the east.
Quickly, I grab a camera and
a tripod knowing the image
I was seeking could be gone
by the time I got to the lake.
My camera, loaded with
a roll of twenty-four exposures
I carefully mount it onto the
tripod near the lakeshore.
Camera settings for shooting
in fog can be challenging,
so I decided to take eight shots,
bracketing each allowing for three
exposures for each shot I would take.
Days later, after the film was developed,
I get the result I wanted — eight great
photographs three of which remain mounted
in a grouping on our living room wall.
I still have the original negatives for being
in the right place at the right time.
— kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
My mother, Agnes, talking to son, Tom as granddaughter, Katie looks on (04/11/04) — Image by kenne
Love is in the air
A narrative not needed
The eyes tell it all.
— kenne
Like this:
Like Loading...
Becoming is Superior to Being 