The Shadow Artist Emerges

Conclusion of A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver

I've been a "shadow artist" too long. It wasn't until I began reading The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron last week that I discovered the name for it:

"Artists themselves but ignorant of their true identity, shadow artists are to be found shadowing declared artists." 

"Creativity is play, but for shadow artists, learning to allow themselves to play is hard work."

The good news is, I've been working on emerging from the shadows, but I'm not out yet. I still have some work to do. It's one day at a time. Here are some lines from this inspiring book that are helping me to move along in the direction I know I want to go:

"Progress, not perfection, is what we should be asking of ourselves."

"Lighting illuminates." 

Art is faith. I'm a believer.

-

What is art to you? How have you emerged from the shadows?

P.S. Did you know Poetry's July/August issue is online for free right now? Yes, it is! Go read it! I especially like Tony Hoagland's poem "There Is No Word."

Your Heart Knows What Your Head Don't

"When you give someone a book you're giving them the most imaginative of gifts, because you're taking a personal interest in what interests them." - W.H. Smith ad in Observer


The Writers' League of Texas posted the above quote on their Facebook page this morning, and I couldn't think of a better quote with which to begin today's post.


My mom recently gave me a copy of Lit by Mary Carr to read.  Each minute dares me to put it down but I can't.  I read a few sentences as I chew my morning cereal, sneak in a page when my boss isn't looking, try to read a chapter before I go to sleep.  This book won't let me go.  There is so much within this book that calls to me.


"What hurts so bad about youth isn't the actual butt whippings the world delivers.  It's the stupid hopes playacting like certainties."


"He never gave up on me, I only stopped being matriculated."


"Your heart knows what your head don't.  Or won't." (The heart as a metaphor discussion reappears...)


"It was dawning on me how uphill a poet's path was, and I confessed to her that if I had to be the choice between being happy or being a poet, I'd choose to be happy."


When was the last time you received a book as a gift?  What significance did it bring to your life?


Books you've never written can hold your secrets.  Years ago I gave up writing, yet, here I am with fingers poised upon a keyboard.

Cliché of the Heart, Take Two

A couple of weeks ago, I blogged about my problems with "the heart" in poems, or rather, using it in my poetry. Yesterday, I came across a lovely poem in a set of three by Jane Hirshfield and find it to be the perfect poem in using the heart as a metaphor and effectively tying in emotion without sounding too sentimental.  It slays "the heart" as a cliché in poetry.

SOMETIMES THE HEART IS A SHALLOW AUTUMN RIVER by Jane Hirshfield (It is last poem on the page.)

I can't wait to read Hirshfield's new collection Come, Thief.

What are you reading?