Tag Archive | art

The Princeling’s Dream

So my son, like many a 10 year old has multiple things he wants to do. One of them is being a video game designer. When I saw the library having a class about coding and making video games, well… He’s all signed up. I found someone to drop him off, and I’ll go meet him at the library.

He also wants, very desperately, to be a YouTube star. I don’t understand a lot of what he’s asking for technologically speaking, but I do understand desire. Creativity. Putting yourself out there.

Yes, he puts himself out there, talking about video games. Sometimes, the video is of us, or of a field trip to Mission San Jose. He regularly creates these videos, and they are important to him.

He’s my kid, and he’s pursuing his dream.

Mommy is following suit.

See, right here? This post? Written earlier, and scheduled. I know I’m going to be gone over then next week, but I also know that I want to be more regular on my posting. So.I am doing as the Princeling does, and working towards it.

If you feel like giving the boy a hand, you can go see his videos on YouTube, under Weare We

He’s being brave, and creative…. and I’m proud.

Shifting Sideways: When work becomes play

I may have mentioned my dirty little secret: I love stationary. I adore it. I like cards, specifically, that have no printing on the inside. I write in them in portrait mode, whether the picture is portrait or landscape. Don’t know why I write in them like that, I just do. At least I don’t just sit there and look at them in all their glory, spread across my bed.. At least not all the time.

I do write letters. Copious amounts of letters.

I had started playing with pictures and words when it came to my stories:

The dragon burped, sending blue sparkles all

And then I had the post with Mel. The one with the visual poetry? Breaking Rythm can be found here if the link doesn’t work: https://wynwords.wordpress.com/2015/07/22/breaking-rhythm-tribe-tuesday/

And my brain has exploded within the past two weeks.

What if… What if…. I could combine two of my favorite things? AWESOME! Even if I only ever make the cards for me, this is something that I love love love!

Here’s the one I’m working on right now:

Poem Stone Multimedia

The title has changed, as has the font and color of the font. Still couldn’t get it quite right, so have sent it off to Leyla, my niece (who also sometimes admins my facebook page for me – Hi Leyla!). I’ve also done one for a friend, and will do another one for her.

This is play. This is fun.

This is joy.

And we should all have something in our lives that brings us joy.

What are you doing in  your writing life, or life in general, that brings you joy?

© 2015 Wynelda Ann Deaver All Rights Reserved

Shifting Sideways: Daydream Believer

Hello, my lovelies. This post took a surprising turn for me at the end. Let me know what you think.

As writers, we spend a lot of time in our own heads. Daydreaming, star gazing, muse courting in a thousand different ways. Some have rituals that have to be precisely followed in order to start writing. But even before we as writers, as artists, as creators, begin to start actively start our project…we are daydreaming our creations into existence.

But what happens when the daydreams stop? How do you get it back? Still writing letters, still sketching things out… until you aren’t. Until it’s you and blank paper and brain.

At first, I told myself I needed a rest. I’d been writing this and that, poems and micro essays, cranking them out, filling up the spiral notebook. And then I wasn’t.

A week. Then two.

Then I got bored with the talk radio I had started listening to. I’d been listening to it because it centered me, made it easier to get through the day at the real job. With all that was going on in my personal life, I needed it. My writing was all over the place, emotions rocking through me. I had to have something to get me through the day without loosing it.

But then I didn’t.

It wasn’t until I switched back to music, music that I love, that I realized the mistake I had made.

Often, while driving to work and rocking out, I get lost in a daydream. The music tickles a spot of creativity and I’ll go off on a tangent. Sometimes singing along, pretending it’s my song. Sometimes letting the story of the song move through me, morph, become a totally different story.

Bon Jovi is my favorite, but there are more coming up strong. Hoozier. Fun.  Ozzy Osbourne. P!ink. Sam Smith. If I start hitting the same daydream notes during a song, I’ll put it on repeat (all of the above are on my hated iphone) until I shake it loose.

And I’ve started shaking it loose again. Playing with the poetry in my last post, tuning it to say what I meant –even though the subject matter is heart breaking—filled my heart with joy. Joy, tenderness, grief, love and despair all rolled into three little poems and a blog post.

I don’t know where I’m going as a writer anymore. That daydream is loose. Even though I know what I want to do, I don’t know how to get there. I am off the map that I carefully drafted all those years ago while daydreaming my life as a writer. Since I didn’t get a bestseller and a mansion at the age of eighteen (without having written a novel), I was already off course.

So.

Hello,

My name is Wynelda Ann Deaver.

I am a poet who didn’t know it.

I like micro, macro, flash writing.

I am still finding out who I am as a writer, and trying to become.

I may be lost, but I can enjoy the journey all the same.

But I am always, always a believer in daydreams. You never know what stories they’ll whisper to you.

Have you taken a turn off your carefully planned route? Enjoying the new ride, or scared? Let me know how you’re doing!

©2015 Wynelda Ann Deaver, All Rights Reserved.

Shifting Sideways: 13 Nekkid Ladies

First off, mind out of the gutter. This is fine art, folks!

Nymphaum by William-Adolph Bouguereau

Nymphaum by William-Adolph Bouguereau

Shifting Sideways: 13 Nekkid Ladies

“One naked lady, two naked ladies, three naked ladies, more. Four Naked ladies, five naked ladies….” My son cooed in his sleep, snuggling into his stroller. Sunday afternoon, and it was time for The Haggin Museum, where we were sitting, and sleeping (respectively), in front of the Nymphaeum by William-Adolphoe Bouguereau. (For the record, there are 13 of them, along with a boy peeping at them and a satyr. Yes, I’ve seen this picture. A lot. If you follow the link, the boy and satyr are on the far right, but are not really visible. Hidden.)

Back then, the Haggin was my refuge. Me time away from my crazy life, moving from place to place. No worries about roommates, a crazy husband or what to do with my life. Instead, it was my infant son, me and the quiet of the museum.

Being surrounded by art allowed me to breathe again. My weird, shift to the side mentality started kicking back in. Some mothers count blocks, some sheep. We counted (almost) naked ladies.

I probably should not have been doing it out loud.

The Princeling and I came to the museum so often that the security guard knew us. At the time, the elevator was operated by Ray, the security guard. I ended up buying a year pass, because we were in there so often.

Now, not so much. Instead of cooing softly from his stroller, my boy has grown into a rambunctious nine year old boy. He’ll tolerate the large machinery, the jeep, the boat… But his heart was captured by the hall of swords. That’s what he calls it now. He thinks the life sized dioramas are creepy, the paintings are boring.

My meandering days are over.

I miss them.

Once again, my life is in turmoil. My mind is scattered, thoughts being tossed like litter in the wind. Art calms the windstorm, settles the thoughts. Whether it’s the Nymphaeum, a storm tossed sea, a piece of porcelain… it reminds me of the beauty in life. Even the potato farmer painting hanging in the same room as my nymphs. They are care worn, they are trying hard… but there is beauty in that struggle.

Walking through the halls, my heart start to slow. My breaths deepen. The soul relearns that it can fly.

##The End##

Breaking Rhythm: Tribe Tuesday

I thought I’d introduce you to one of the tribe members, Melanie Rogers. I’m only a little late…..

I love how she is able to mix photography/art and poetry, coming up with a visual poem with a huge impact.

Enjoy, my lovelies!Breaking Rhythm

Just in case it doesn’t show up right, below is the text of the poem:

Breaking Rhythm
A teasing bit of iamb sets the style,
enticing in simplistic words. Your pure
and unadulterated page endures
no verbiage on the cotton.  To defile
such innocence with mediocre words is vile,
yet whispers come to sway the insecure.
Sophisticated confidence allures,
premeditated flattery beguiles…
You listen and obey…chaos ensues.
Attempts to tame the cadenced lines fall short,
until a valiant battle with your muse
allows you victoriously thwart
the silent struggle with an inky bruise:
Pentameter parameters abort.
Melanie J. Rogers

Why do we write?

It’s a fair question. If you write, as a hobby, aspiring professional/artist or even as a full time professional: why do you do it? What is it that makes a person sit down at a keyboard (or with pad and pen), block out the world and dive?

Poetry, essays, fiction, whatever. If I told you right now that the odds are you will never be published… will you still do it? Will you still scribble on napkins, the backs of envelopes? Will you fill notebooks and computer files with your ideas? Or will you simply stop working? If you were working in paint, and were told that you have an amazing gift but it will only be for you & your loved ones… maybe a few friends… would you keep painting? Art for arts sake.

Writing is a weird art. Everyone thinks they can do it. Most of us deal in words daily, tossing them around. Not everyone can pick up a paint brush and make something that looks remotely like what it’s supposed to. Most people understand that just because you can do a  line dance doesn’t mean that you can dance in a professional ballet….

But we’re not talking about them. Or are we? If you could never be published, if your words only affected a select few in your life, would you still have the compunction to share them?

I’ve actually faced this question twice this year. Both times, I felt perhaps it was time to stop submitting my work. Stop sharing for a little while. And yet somehow I kept it together, kept going. Little by little, I’m still sharing that writing. But even publication was beyond my grasp, I would still write. I know this because I’ve lived it.

I write for one or two reasons. The first is that I’m bored with other books and want to see what kind of adventure I can come up with. The second is…. because I have to. A compulsion, a spilling forth of part of your soul that needs healing. So yes, if I never had another contract again, I would still write.

The contracts are nice, I will admit that. But not just because it gets the words out there. Lord knows its not because I’m getting rich off of it. Contracts are nice because they tell you when you’re on the right track. Also, the editing process is an eye opener into the craft. Ultimately, it makes you better not because of the accolades but because of the practice.

Because it takes practice. Practice. Writing a million words or more, reading widely… it all adds up.

So what about you? Would you write without accolades?

Personally, I have to write if I want to stay sane.