Friday is Creative Deed Day

What is Creative Deed? First of all it’s an idea a woman artist had for a Facebook group about making a piece of art every day of 2015 and giving it to someone, stranger or someone you work with, or know in any capacity…. Mine are all anonymous. Some say “Free art. Take me home.” on the back.

It took me a while to figure out that was the kind of art people in the group were posting. Once I figured it out about two weeks ago, I forgot that the guidelines involved making one art piece a day to give away (365 for the whole year.) I’m ok with having stretched the “rules” in a “more” direction. You can’t give too much free art, when each piece is about 3 inches in any direction or less. So I must have given out at least 45-60 cards since I started making them. Actually I think I started right before Valentine’s day on 2/11, as I remember giving the first one to a Wednesday patient who really “got” it. The next day I had them for my group and one group member had Valentinte’s cards for us, so it was nice to give her and the others something I made. Each card had at least one heart on it and a word or message from a yogi tea bag, as well as 3D collage objects glued on, to make them fun. Eventually I found some crazy odd buttons and made them even more quirky.

That Thursday night I went to a meeting and gave out about ten of them. Meanwhile down near my studio, I planted the cards all over, in phone booths on the street, on bank machine keyboards, even in the Whole Foods bread aisle. Also inside those free magazine/newspaper boxes you see on the street. I also gave a bunch to friends and family members. This week I gave one to the guy I go to to send faxes, who knows me and is really nice. He appreciated it. I also gave it to a homeless person with a big cup, I just stuck one in. Last night for the first time I left one on a subway seat and on the metro card vending machine inside where you get the receipts. I also gave one to a pharmacist. Another fun place to leave them is in the windshield wiper of a car. It won’t blow away and it’s nice to imagine someone getting a nice free piece of art instead of a ticket!

I won’t lie. The first day I put these cards in random places, I had such fun I felt kind of high. I also felt like I was doing something illegal and might get arrested! It definitely felt like I was sneaking around because I was. Waiting for people to walk by so I could unseen put one somewhere. And they are a real mood booster. At the end of the day in a bad mood on the 2 train, I got excited to leave one on my seat and a few others in the subway station, so by the time I got home I had cheered up considerably!

I intend to keep up this habit all year, so I will try to post once a week with photos of the new cards and any fun news about creative deeding. The week I started turned out to be “Random Acts of Kindness” week, Feb. 9-15, so that was also cool…

If you live in NYC on the upper west side or downtown in tribeca, look around. You might find one! I left a few in Starbucks…

every Ftiday I will try to post images of art cards from the week and where I put them and mention whom I gave them to….



Day Eight: Drawer, Ode, Apostrophe

(so, no use of “apostrophe,” not really finished. I think it needs to be rewritten but here it is anyway)

Ode To One of My File Drawers

A beautiful pencil drawing, so precise with pretty shapes
Done long ago by whom I do not know.
Unfinished necklaces, colorful beaded ones.
In separate bags inside you
but they lie next to each other in you.

Hello today, Flat file drawer, labelled
art therapy and A-H…
You are deep, wide and expansive despite your small height.

Even some altered books, still small enough to fit.
Lots of mandalas partly colored in.
Sometimes a mask is in your roomy home.
These visitors are temporary, but they tend to stay a long time.
There are pictures with words, private things, poems too. You can
hold them all and you keep their secrets.

An unfinished ream catcher made with wire and neon pipe cleaners,
An intention written on a purple piece of paper
says, “I will do things that make me happy.”
This one is for everyone in the drawer and me too.
Even though I don’t see it and had forgotten about it,
It is a big part of art therapy;
helping people find things to do that make them happy;
Both in session and in daily life.

That makes me happy. I am happy some of my own artwork
done with another person is in your vastness too.
You are filled with so many kinds of feelings, dark and light;
You hold depression and anxiety, secrets and shame,
You hold hope and happiness, creativity and loss,
You are Rumi’s guest house, receiving anything that comes,
Watching all sorts of things leave.
You are Dr. Seuss’s waiting room of Art.

(catching up) Writing 201: Poetry, Day Four — Animal, Concrete Poem, Emjambment

hope is a fish

hang your
velvet trimmed
dusty blue grey hat

on
hope.
hope is

the
promise
that sticks sometimes on a thin piece

of tape curling
the ends.

up at
you don’t know                                               if the middle can
hold it down
but it does.

it

sometimes

hangs by a

dirty
s
t
r
i
n
g
 

dangling over

an empty
bottle
of wine.

like a                                fish                                      it

darts

around.
when you think it’s disappeared-

 

 

 

 

 

it’s just sleeping.

Translation:
hope is a fish

hang your velvet trimmed dusty blue grey hat on hope.
hope is the promise that sticks sometimes on a thin piece of tape curling up at the ends.
you don’t know if the middle can hold it down but it does.
it sometimes hangs by a dirty string dangling over an empty bottle of wine.
like a fish it darts around.
when you think it’s disappeared, it’s just sleeping.

(This did not look the way I wanted it to. I will try to write it freehand and take a photo of how I was thinking it should look…)

Writing 201: Poetry, Day Six: Hero(ine), Ballad, Epistrophe

Ok this one is just out of my league. Since I am a night owl up late who fights against having to sleep and wake up at crazy hours like 7 or 8am, here is my attempt at ballad. The villain is sleep and staying up is the heroine!

Ballad: To the Night

I want you and I don’t…
Oh why can’t I stay?
I won’t I won’t I won’t.
I won’t let you take away,

I won’t let you take away
My mind and my hands.
Don’t close my lids til day.
It’s measured out in sands.

Sands go through as time,
Time goes by this night:
This night I want to stay
Awake awake to play.

To play alone this night.
Don’t close my lids til day.
I stay up and fight
You, sleep! Yes sleep,

Sleep that eats away,
Eats away my life.
I’m getting old for day;
The night is here my wife

Awake I will refuse you.
Sleep, like death, you erase,
You erase me. I want to do-
To do something all night long.

So I stay up to write this song.
I want you and I don’t:
Sleep you take so long.
I will you and I won’t!

First Yoga Lesson

Nice poem!

angieinspired

“Be a lotus in the pond,” she said, “opening
slowly, no single energy tugging
against another but peacefully,
all together.”

I couldn’t even touch my toes.
“Feel your quadriceps stretching?” she asked.
Well, something was certainly stretching.

Standing impressively upright, she
raised one leg and placed it against
the other, then lifted her arms and
shook her hands like leaves. “Be a tree,” she said.

I lay on the floor, exhausted.
But to be a lotus in the pond
opening slowly, and very slowly rising–
that I could do.

-From Mary Oliver’s Blue Horses Poems

NaBloPoMo_1114_465x287_prompts
Monday, November 10 Prompt:
What knowledge do you have that others don’t? Write a “how to” post about anything you’ve got skills for, small or large.
I’ve got yoga skills, but didn’t have enough time to write about it as well as Mary Oliver did.

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Poetry Assignment: Fog, Elegy, Metaphor

Untitled

“The fog comes on little cat feet”
is one of my favorite lines.

For you, the fog was a tiger.

You left on Sept. 18, 2013
It’s a foggy death you chose.
You knew you wanted to die.

I have a fantasy of fog:
That I am walking towards the water
in a thick fog
and you emerge.

You say words, explain, convince…
Death was not a fog for you
and all the others who chose it.
It was a sharp knife to cut the pain.

I see you all together.
The suicides under the sea
that we cannot see.

I beat my head on the fog
No comfort.
You can’t hit fog, you can’t swallow fog.
Death swallowed you up that day.
I wait for it to spit you out
So I can see you again as you once were.