Sailing into the second half of Art Every Day Month, I’m going to post about an exhibit sponsored by the Arts Council of Kern ( on this link you can find the show poster and view it) that opens Friday here in Bakersfield. It’s called Reflections image + word and features three photographers and three poets. I’m one of the photographers and I also have a couple of poems in the show, but I wouldn’t dare to call myself a poet.
Here’s how it works. The six of us assembled, talked, and then submitted poems and photographs to each other. If someone felt pulled to a particular poem, that person would submit a photo. If a poet felt pulled to a particular photo, that person would submit a poem. The curator, Nicole St. John, chose the final entries and the show opens Friday. It’s a wonderful concept and I think it’ll be a terrific show. I won’t give the whole thing away, but I’ll post a couple of the poems and photos.
The first photo is by LisaAnn Lobasso. She called it Another Farm Gives Way, but I put my own interpretation on it with the poem I wrote.
Usable
Usable by Susan Reep
Old, rusted, antique, as useless as typewriters.
Cast off but not discarded. Yet.
Is that what happens to old things? To old people?
Her skin was trim, her body thin, but it wasn’t new.
Does old come when your body starts to sag?
If so, she was ok. For now. In image.
Being naked and feeling naked are different.
Being naked filled her with exhilaration, excitement, freedom.
She stood straight and proud.
Feeling naked exposed her from the inside out.
It all rose to the surface. Insecurities and doubts.
Her stride would break; she’d want to wrap her arms
Around her body to keep everything in, private.
Would it feel different to be walking in a new tractor store?
It may have been a bad idea to come out here seeking
The freedom of open spaces, the confidence of solitude,
The comfort of the farm.
It might have been better in spring when everything was new.
Well, not everything. She’d still be in the midst of old,
Rusted, antique cast-offs. Worse, they weren’t even important enough
To cart off. Just cast off. Obsolete. A warning.
What good was her trim, thin body that would someday sag.
Better that form follows function. It’s the use, isn’t it?
Being usable, not used up. Contemporary, not contemplated.
The new was sleek, smart, fast and firm,
But it didn’t tell stories. The stories were in
The rust, the uselessness, the age. The antiques.
What stories they could tell if they could speak.
Seeking freedom on the farm, the solace of solitude. Not so bad
After all. Because she could speak. She could speak for now.
She could even speak for others. She could speak for the future.
She could speak for the past. She could speak for her body.
She could speak with her body. Her new body, her slim, trim body,
And the saggy baggy body yet to come.
The one that would be full of stories.
Used up, maybe. But usable.
Little Girl with a Baseball
I submitted a photo that Nick Belardes liked it so he wrote a poem. The photo is one I took years ago and kept in the back of my mind, knowing someday I wanted to use it for something. I think I’ve posted this before, but it never hurts to do it again. Anything about baseball deserves a second posting, especially with such a poignant poem.
LITTLE GIRL WITH A BASEBALL by Nick Belardes
She will taunt you
When you’re ten years old,
And she’s three.
She’ll hold your baseball
Like it’s a mystery orb
And won’t give it to you
When you want it back.
When she’s fifteen,
And you’re Twenty-two,
She’ll only watch you
If you’re winning.
“It’s just a game,” you say.
You know that isn’t true.
And she never believes you anyway.
When she’s twenty-three
And you pitch your first game in the majors,
She’ll finally say you were meant to be
a ballplayer.
But she still won’t write you letters.
Or tell you you’re the best she ever saw.
When you start coaching AAA,
She’ll remember all those games
You once played.
You will call her up,
And she’ll say what you looked like
From the stands.
When she’s fifty,
She will hang photos
you didn’t know she had.
Like the time she had that magic orb
When she was three.
After the show opens, I’ll share some more. If you’re in the Bakersfield area, the details are on the poster in the link. I think you’ll recognize the photo on the poster.
