For those that are new to the Collaboration Station, this is from Week 1 so you'll know what's happening ~~

"This is a place where artists and writers can come together and inspire each other and hopefully have a little fun too!  We hope you will enjoy our efforts as much as we do…  give it a try! 
Here’s how it works:

Week 1 - Each Monday an ARTIST (in this case I'll volunteer) will post a visual, and anybody who wishes to responds with a written piece -- poetry, story, article, essay -- whatever.  No restrictions here.  The floor will be open for two weeks for written submissions. (Of course, anyone can jump in and leave a written piece later!) 

Week 2 - Each Monday a WRITER (volunteer, or nominated by anyone and agreeing) posts a written piece -- poetry, story, article, essay -- whatever.  No restrictions there.  Then, anybody who wishes to may respond with a visual (again, no restrictions).  Floor open for two weeks for visual collaboration. 

AND SO ON in alternating succession."

This is a self-portrait digital collage I did for Weekly Creativity Contest #14 "Self-Portraits" entitled Me, Myself, I.  To give you a little background info, the images are from a black-white photograph my husband took of me more than twenty years ago.  It seemed to capture something intangible of myself that I can relate to. The larger image symbolizes me, or the puzzle of my life, trying to guess at how everything fits together. I am really looking forward to seeing what the writers come up with!                 - chameleon

Hello Everyone. It has been quite a few years since I wrote poetry, but this piece spoke to me. So, I thought I would give it a try. I am not sure how this will translate with the spacing, but hopefully you will be able to read it ok.

When I was younger I tried

to find meaning in a life

where no reason or rhyme would take

shape.

And all I could see were the

possibilities, but not

what all these pieces of me

meant.

I didn’t fit into the

shapes that were given me by

those who pretended that they

cared.

But as I’ve grown wiser I

have come to realize how

all the pieces of this life

fit.

Each year brought some order and

the goals I worked toward were the

framework and border of my

life.

The picture is clearer now.

But I’m nowhere near to where

I’ll be when I put that last piece

into place.

Isabella

I don't call myself a writer; I thought I'd give Collaboration Station an attempt. The first 3 lines are from a poem I started writing a month ago and it seemed that your art was the puzzle piece I needed to finish it! It is amazing how it all fits. -Mary 

Just when I think I had it all figured out
Something happens to foster doubt
Doubting my Self

As the earth spins in perfect time
And planets orbit the sun on their perfect path
My puzzle piece lies on the floor
Waiting to be retrieved

The sun rises and sets on schedule
Showing the Universe how perfect it all is
My perfect me reaches down to
Pick up my perfect puzzle piece

My hand fumbles as I place it down
Oh so perfectly it fits!
Showing Me, Myself, and I
The answers are always there
Waiting for me to see.

Puzzling,
as are all puzzles until the solution's search begins

Puzzling,
pieces, stored in a box, a disheveled mound of little consequence,
and then, light reaches into the container,
and then, an exploring hand,
groping fingers
a single piece examined,
and then another
and another.

Puzzling,
match two odd bits together -
these peninsula loops tuck into bay openings,
these spaded shapes abut other spaded points,
these precision Xs mark each corner, snap cleanly into place

Intimate,
each piece curving to greet its neighbor,
edge to edge, side by side, link to link.
each piece carrying an unknown image, indistinguishable,
a fragment of DNA,
until time's gift of knowledge, perseverance, experience
prompts each bit to fit as one,
giving to each division connection,
fashioning a character - once scattered parts.

Now transformed -
a thousand cardboard pieces
meld into one shining soul, one beating heart. 

by Bo

2.29.08
 

Who Am I?

Who am I, really?

Am I "me", that irresponsible, playful sprite who forgets to finish drying the dishes because the ice cream truck went by and I had to hurry and find a dollar bill before he got away?

Am I "myself", that stick-in-the-mud practical pessimist who insists that I'll never amount to anything, because I can't stick to one thing long enough to finish it, and besides ice cream is fattening?

Am I "I", calm voice of reason that says the dishes will get done or they won't, and I'll gain weight or I won't, but in any case there's no sense worrying about it -- just get on with it?

Yes, and no.  I am all of these and more -- the whole greater than any of its parts -- happy but practical, practical but realistic, realistic but happy -- all mixed up in one and all one -- and I myself me love all of me, myself, and I love myself and I and me!

Thank you so much for this deeply moving poem. Seeing my work through a 'poet's eye', gives me a fresh way of looking at my artwork from a different angle or a new perspective entirely.  My insatiable longing to understand myself are given strength with words like:

"I didn’t fit into the                                                                                    
shapes that were given me by
those who pretended that they
cared."

Dear Mary~~ 

My parents told me I should not consider being an artist as a career.  I wasn't a great drawer but I had an abundant imagination and a thirst for getting my hands on any art, of any kind. Always thinking about what my parents had said, I went to take secretarial classes in college.  Exactly twenty years later, I was enrolled in college once again but this time, it was in visual arts.  I don't think some parents know how much they influence our lives.

It's amazing that our paths crossed, Mary , with  your work needing those last few puzzle pieces to feel 'complete' and mine needing the words to make sense of what I had created.  With the lines of your poem: 

"The answers are always there 
Waiting for me to see."

I am reminded that with any puzzle, until it is completed, the puzzle is constantly emerging.  Some pieces will always be missing, some will have been placed but then later seem to get lost, some will still be in the box waiting to be discovered, some I will see but not know how they fit, and some I  just haven't gotten to yet.    Thanks so much for this wonderful poem, Mary.

 - chameleon

Dear Bo ~~ 

It wasn’t until I was nearly thirty years’ old that I decided to

the puzzle piece of Me as adopted child; the other puzzle piece, Myself, as  a baby  with unknown birth parents.  I would be the present; where I am......

“Now transformed –
a thousand cardboard pieces
meld into one shining soul, one beating heart.” 

Hi Chameleon! I am really glad you liked the poem! I thought I would check out what is happening in Artellaland before taking my Nyquil, and I was excited to see all of the different interpretations of your art.

I am just starting to write more poetry again after a long silence. I hope to use bits and pieces in my memorial piece for my mother. All of these poems for this week spoke to different aspects of your work and that is what was so moving. Mixing words and art IS very powerful.

 Isabella

Chameleon,

Isn't this a wonderful forum?  Your art was very inspiring and look at all the marvelous 'words' you have as a lovely reminder of the journey you are on.  That journey we all travel - life.  I and myself and me - always a tricky balance there, but " your Puzzle" was really fun to work with as inspiration.  Thank you for sharing these puzzle parts of yourself with us.

Hugs and cheers, 

Bo 

Hi Everyone -- Here is my response to Chameleon's lovely self-portrait image.  Thanks for sharing your wonderful artwork Chameleon!  I'm still working on Week 2's response to Kate's poem. Everyone's doing a terrific job on colloborations, I didn't read all the responding writings yet because I didn't want to influence myself, so I'll come back and comment in a little bit.   ~Lori

This Last Piece

Chameleon,

I'm glad that you liked what I wrote. Your art is amazing and you have such a way of expressing yourself through images and the colors you use. I so admire that talent! It took 2 days for me to find the lines I started "Oh! Was it in this journal or over here or in this notepad?" 

While I have the writers here, I have a question:  is there an easy way to post here and in our blogs so we don't have a paragraph space between each line (when we don't want it) and have to redo the HTML to BR tags? Is it Shift + Enter at end-of-line maybe? Or?

The reason I ask is while it may take me 20 minutes to write something then copy/paste, then it's a good hour to format it on the blog. Yikes. Any ideas are appreciated.

Thanks again for the great writing prompt, chameleon!

-Mary 

I apologize, I don't think I should have posted my question within this thread, thus making it off topic. I'll find another place to pose my question. Thank you!

-Mary 

Hey, Mary -- no topic police here!  Ask what you want where you want.  Please feel free to use the Cafe in a way that is useful to you!!

Hugs

Aunt Bobby