Showing posts with label prose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prose. Show all posts

Thursday, January 1, 2026

Ekphrastic Folk Art Season 3, #1

                                                         What Happens 
                                        When Folk Art Gets Ekphrastic?


To find out, I invited several writers to mix it up; to play with this folkloric
image. Using their literary talents, they did just that. Jumping right into the challenge, they created inspiring storylines and conversations.

But before I show you the results for this issue, the first of two issues in Season 3, here are brief explanations of what folk art and ekphrastic are.
 
What is Folk Art? 

Folk art, in general - art made by folk - is 'decorative' art applied to functional (everyday) items. Popular examples include weather vanes, furniture, quilts,
and hand painted plates.

What is Ekphrastic?

Ekphrastic is a term that describes the practice of using words in poetry and 
prose to comment on or about a piece of visual art (i.e., painting, photograph, sculpture) and, for many, is often limited to what we call 'fine art' by trained 
artists. But, in fact, ekphrastic writing about art that embellishes common
items has been around since ancient times. For example, in The Iliad Homer provides lengthy discursive accounts of elaborate scenes on Achilles' shield 
(an every day, functional item).

The word ekphrasis is a combination of two Greek words: ex (out) and 
phrazein (to point out, explain). 

Be sure to check out Season 1 and Season 2 in our flipbook library. 

Now, onto the innovative works that open Season 3! 

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Charity Shop Doll

She still shouts out protecting 
the green, tells them to leave her
alone and not trample on her forest.
I hear the words: Seeds! Not bricks!
Seeds! Not bricks! that she cried
when she was torn from my arms,
tossed to lie in someone else’s upset.
For years, I had to live without our mascot,
march alone, whilst always searching.
Bricks rose turning green to a dirty brown.
Now on a tiny wooden chair, her eyes,
her arm reminds me how luck filled that
charity shop, but not the felled trees
over whose land she now sits, mourns for.
She can still hear them breathing.
 
Julie Stevens' poems cover many themes but often engage with the problems of disability. She is widely published in places such as Macmillan and OUP,  Broken Sleep Books, and Ink Sweat & Tears. She has five published pamphlets. http://www.jumpingjulespoetry.com

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What Oma Made for Me

Tired eyes, arthritic hands, (abundant heart) and endless love-- the artisan’s tools Oma used to make me a purple-ly whimsy doll. Where 
go I so goes she; we hand in hand (ma belle ami). Her button eyes 
fixed to the landscape of my dreams and Oma’s spirit stitched to 
every seam. The yarn is spun of marigolds and other hues of oranges fair such are the makings of her hair that Oma wove with pastel 
threads snatched from majestic dawns, and ribbons spooled from rainbows. Tenderly she packed the doll all cottony to soak up tears 
and soften sorrows then threaded in an amulet assuring safe tomorrows. Arthritic hands still clutch the doll she made for me 
and travel we (ma belle ami) and Oma too, though long ago of this 
world through. Yes, long ago of this world through.
 
Karen N. FitzGerald is a genre-fluid writer whose works are curated in several 
e-zines and print anthologies. Her debut chapbook is  ‘Language of Spring, published by Bottlecap Press https://bottlecap.press/products/_langknf

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She lives now

in shadows of once-upon-a-time where carefully pinned-together then sewn threads of orange, pink, and purple will never unravel. They carry memories of a tender life with a child who adored every inch of her.

A joy to behold, this open-eyed treasure cuddled in the arms of a dreamy girl whose life was drained of hope when disease struck her spine.

The doll stays out of the light so as not to fade her handwoven cloth. The textured fabric still holds the child’s forever-after kisses.  Their warmth keeps the night’s chill at bay.

Karen Pierce Gonzalez, an award winning writer and artist, has five chapbooks, five poetic librettos, and more to her credit. Linktr.ee/KPGFolkHeart

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Mami Wata

When I was young my mother sewed a doll
A mermaid made of purple corduroy
Hair of gold yarn around her face did fall
But this doll was not meant to be a toy

Placed on an altar hung from the ceiling
With other spirit dolls that she had made
Meant to provide protection and healing
Yet somehow this one made me feel afraid

Mother Water the meaning of her name
She makes her home in rivers, lakes and seas
In Africa she has a certain fame
Where locals offer gifts on bended knees

Representing both beauty and danger
Mami Wata preys upon the stranger
 
Mercedes Dugger is a native Californian currently residing in San Francisco with a talented poet and his beautiful cat. Co-authored Morning Tanka, a book of poetry, with Dane Ince.  https://www.facebook.com/mercedes.dugger

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Saturday, November 30, 2024

Ekphrastic Folk Art Season 2 #2

 

 What Happens When Folk Art Gets Ekphrastic?

To find out, I invited several writers to mix it up; to play with this folkloric image. Using their literary talents, they did just that. Jumping right into the challenge, they created inspiring storylines and conversations. 
                            
But before I show you the results for this issue of Season 2, here are brief explanations of what folk art and ekphrastic are. 

What is Folk Art? 

Folk art, in general - art made by folk - is 'decorative' art applied to functional (everyday) items. Popular examples include weather vanes, furniture, quilts, and hand painted plates.

What is Ekphrastic?

Ekphrastic is a term that describes the practice of using words in poetry and prose to comment on or about a piece of visual art (i.e., painting, photograph, sculpture) and has been around since ancient times. For example, in The Iliad Homer provides lengthy discursive accounts of elaborate scenes on Achilles' shield (an every day, functional item).

The word ekphrasis is a combination of two Greek words: ex (out) and phrazein (to point out, explain). 

Be sure to check out Season 1 in our flipbook library. 

Now, onto the excellent and innovative poetry and prose of Donna Faulkner, Karin Hedetniemi, Sylvia Santiago, and Jenny Wong.

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Crafting

Another stitch,   then   another. 
Clotho guides
the threads her fingers weave
the tale
unfolds
A long exhale
The fabric breathes …
Another thread,   then    another.
Sisters   gather   spin familiars.
Craft a village   green,
sing their Mother’s  home.
Another stitch,
another thread.
A hundred   times, a thousand years.
Although her eyesight   fades,
and knuckles crack
she could   make   this   magic
in her sleep.

 
Donna Faulkner’s books include ‘In Silver Majesty’ (erbacce press) and ‘The Oracle of birds - short stories for the fireside’  (Written Tales).  Her work also appears in  300 Days of Sun, Havik, Fieldstone Review, and others.
 https://linktr.ee/donnafaulkner Instagram @lady_lilith_poet/
 
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Chanh is the Moon
 
It was one of the happiest days of my childhood: harvesting mangoes with bamboo sticks, dancing in breezes, birdsong, and the singing voices of my village. Grandmother stitched a story cloth with the saved threads of her long life. For five days, I watched her trembling hands pull the needle with wool strands through a bright green cloth. She finished her work, adding honey strokes of sunlight to steep mountain ridges. When I am older, I said, I will climb these mountains with Father and see you waving from here. I pointed to the small, thatched house embroidered beside the spirit house. Grandmother placed the cloth on my lap and touched my cheek. When you are older, she said softly with her kind, half-moon eyes, I will see you everywhere.

 
 Karin Hedetniemi photographs and writes from Victoria, Canada. Her place-inspired creative work appears in many international literary journals, including Grain, EVENT, Lunch Ticket, and Welter. In spring 2025, her award-winning haiku will be celebrated at the Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival.
https://agoldenhour.com Bluesky/Instagram: @karinhedet
 
 
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La Paz, 1950
 
Bubalus bubalis / what a magical way to name a carabao / like its horns / the words curve gently / it sounds like a spell to my seven-year-old ears / in the photograph / my Lola is about the same age as me / sitting astride a carabao / she wears a sundress and a grin / the photograph / is black and white / but my grandmother remembers / the rice seedlings in the field / glinting greenly in the sunlight / the carabao’s coarse hide / dark as soot / the blue of the skies / cerulean / the blue of the ocean / she’d cross fifteen years later / to a new country / to a place where the sun never truly warms her / a place where she never wears the same smile
 

Sylvia Santiago is a writer from western Canada whose work has appeared in Flash Frontier, Heavy Feather Review, The Indianapolis Review, and elsewhere.
x: @sylviasays2 
 
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Stitchings
 
A needle’s flicker,
the sharp sputter of steel
as mopeds and roads
zigzag across roughed edges of green. Noon
air is heat-thick, a batting of chatter-
ing birds and metal sounds.
Her favorite time is morning
when mountains
cross-stitch their shadows
along the horizon, and a silent hem
of light peeks beneath a blackness
pinned with stars. New shoots
poke through the dark eye of soil
and watch tamarind trees tuck
the golden stains of sunrise
into their seeds. But in the end,
there is always the heaviness
of scissors or the white snip
of teeth, and all she can think about is how
to hide the knots, the abrupt ends of thread
fraying wordless beneath the long length
of another day.
 

Jenny Wong’s debut chapbook is ‘Shiftings & other coordinates of disorder’ (Pinhole Poetry). She is a writer, traveler, and occasional business analyst.  Her favorite places to wander are Tokyo alleys, Singapore hawker centers, and Parisian cemeteries. She resides in Canada.  
https://opencorners.ca/about  YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@jenwithwords