Iona Rozeal Brown at MOCA Cleveland

There are two exhibits at MOCA Cleveland until about May 9, 2010.   From Then To Now: Masterworks of Contemporary African American Art features many well known artists like Kara Walker, Faith Ringgold, Alison Saar, Richard Hunt, Willie Cole, Kehinde Wiley and Alma W. Thomas.  It was fabulous.

The other exhibit is Iona Rozeal Brown's All Falls Down.   This exhibit is fabulous!   This exhibit is based on a mythology which features a warrior, yoshi and villains, E.I.N. (everything i'm not) and the hoochie puti.  Brown uses a mix of Japanese Ukiyo-e prints and hip-hip imagery in her vivid works. 

I was beyond impressed.  I was thrilled.  The mythology was indepth, the heroines looked like me--curvy with natural hair.  This art made me feel fantabulous.  This is what art is supposed to do for one's spirit.

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why

The beauty of a sonnet.  I just wanted to share 

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why       by Edna St. Vincent Millay

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain

Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply,

And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain

For unremembered lads that not again

Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,

Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,

Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

I cannot say what loves have come and gone,

I only know that summer sang in me

A little while, that in me sings no more.

an old attempt at haiku

Sensual kisses
Hidden from the light of day
Overwhelm the night

Just A Question

If I tell you that thunderstorms turn me on......

and you sit outside...to wait it out....

...

...

Are you waiting out the storm or this Storm?

I Am The Pin-Up Queen Of My Own Universe

I watched The Notorious Bettie Page for my favorite class. Yes, it was for school! Really!

Anyway.  I have a very different aesthetic when it comes to certain things.  That being said, I adore Bettie Page. I don't look at her photos and judge her harshly, I laugh and enjoy her as it seems she enjoyed herself. I view Anna Nicole Smith and Marilyn Monroe in much the same light.  But Bettie is different. The director, Mary Harron described Bettie as innocent, like a playful, little girl playing dress-up.  She had no agenda.  She would never fit the role of feminist. Though she clearly enjoyed the attention of the camera, as well as various states of undress, there was still a genuine sensuality and enjoyment that never reached the point of vulgarity.  (I know, what I find adorable is another person's vulgar, and viva la difference!)

In the film, a female photographer Bunny Yeager says there is something about Bettie.  It's like she's nude but not naked.  It just seems that she's comfortable with her sexuality.  There was no sex in her movies or photos and compared to today's porn, hers is just fluff.  The thing about her is that innocence and that openness.

I think there is a little bit of Bettie Page's spirit in me.  Wait a minute, I know I am NO ONE'S idea of a Pin-Up, but if you read Last Night I Decolonized My Thighs maybe you will understand what I mean. Though, I am a bit vulgar in that post, there is a bit of unabashedness to it that I love about myself. I love being able to be myself. I enjoy being able to be open and playful.  I love for my love to be receptive and safe so that I may open up even more.  Within a loving, receptive relationship should there be a limit? Need there be?  Yes, of course there are limits to every person's comfort level, but I hope to find the limit of mine. This part of me, however, is not very agressive. It's actually pretty shy, and though I will try to let this side show, if it is pushed away, then it's something that doesn't come back easily. And what I end up wondering is why can't I be fully ME.

What would that look like? Where would that leave me? Is there anyone out there who can handle that? Anyone who wants to? When I am happy and open, I am creative and playful, more outgoing and just better. When I feel loved for who I am it is the most awesome thing ever. If I am able to find what I love to do, should I have to hold back?  It doesn't make sense. It has been a while since I tapped into my inner Bettie-- I may be more Ugly Bettie than Bettie Page, but you get my drift.  What matters is being able to be who we are, being able to be freely ourselves, and being loved just as we are. The real question is what am I willing to do to be fully open?

Busy

I am back in school at my advanced age.  The thing of it is, now that I have raised my daughter I cannot get any financial help.   That is not fair.

I am enjoying it though.  I bit off a bit too much by going back full time...nothing like jumping right into the deep end.  So, I am determined not to drown.  Being an 'adult' student helps though.   I am more confident.  I am enjoying writing.  I am nervous though.  The first time I took a class on this campus, I was 17 years old and so lost.  I wasn't confident.  I didn't know what the professor was talking about and I felt that I shouldn't be there.  I felt that everyone else in the room understood.  Now, if I'm lost, I speak up. I assume that other people are lost also, and even if they aren't, I AM.   I am probably annoying to the other students but I don't care about that either.  It's kinda cool.

I actually love all 3 of my classes, all for different reasons.  I really like my women's studies prof.,  she's cool, smart, unabashedly feminist, awesome!   I like my religion class so far because we are reading various theories.  It's sort of dry, but it makes sense and is very interesting. It makes me look at things differently.  My english class is awesome for me because I am learning things that I need to know and enjoying putting it to use.  I sit at the front, and have to make myself not monopolize the conversation.  I love it.  I Love It.  I LOVE IT!

I like to learn.  It feels as good as writing and painting, cooking, creating. 

I even started a poem yesterday.  There's no telling when it will be finished, but I started it.

Happy 2010!

  I am so happy to see a new year.    Let's get rolling 2010.  I have things to do. 

No, no resolutions.  I generally don't make them.  I tend to start things in January because the holidays have ended but that's about it.  I have things I need to work on, as ever, but no real resolutions. 

All I have is the feeling that things will be better for me this year, especially since last year was so very difficult.  This new year's feels like a wide open window on the first seasonable day. 

Fresh air; a new start; a clean slate.

Happy New Year.

My Dad

Last week would have been my dad's 69th birthday.

He passed nine and a half years ago, and I miss him still.

I have days when I wish I could talk to him.  For differing reasons, some days to ask what I was like as a child and sometimes just to find out the name of an actor or a movie. 

I have moments when I wish I could share a movie or some music with him.

I miss his laugh.

I regret the way things were at the end.

I carried so much guilt, even though he and I were both wrong. 

I loved the way my dad interacted with children.  He was funny, and really listened when most adults didn't.

I love him for sharing his love of football, golf, jazz, books and learning.  My dad had a respect for my inquisitive spirit.  He taught me that it was ok to ask questions and look for answers--no matter what the subject.

My Daddy wasn't my hero, not exactly.  I had no misconceptions about who he was.  I knew he cheated on my mom, hadn't graduated school, got into trouble as a kid, started smoking in elementary school...I could go on but it doesn't matter.  He was my Daddy.  I loved him even though I did not like some things.  I loved him and felt that he loved and understood me...until I came out.

 

Still, I miss him.

 

I miss him still.

Love

 

I know

you love me

but loving without

touching

is like

breathing

without

air.

 

 

20 Nov 2009

 

 

 

The Dark

I hate the dark. 

No, it's not the same as being afraid of the dark.  Though, I am a little afraid of it too (nervous smile).  I breathe a little easier once I reach the lamp.  I am relieved to see everything is as I left it and no one uninvited is waiting.

That is not what I mean here.  I hate being alone in the dark, with nothing to see, hearing nothing, feeling nothing.  I hate the sensory deprivation. 

I am sensual.  I need to see.  The painter in me caresses things with my eyes.  I enjoy following the line of a face, hand, shoulder with my eyes.  By the time I put my hand out to touch, I feel an anticipation and excitement that I cannot explain.  I enjoy calculating the amount of french ultramarine I would need to add to prussian to get the blue of your shirt.  I enjoy feeling skin next to my own.  I like looking at clothing and by being able to hear and see it, knowing what it will feel like.  I like the feel of a warm hand on the small of my back.  I like the warmth it generates up and down my spine.

I like to hear love in my lover's voice.  Sometimes I am less sophisticated and need the love spoken and spelled out. 

Don't get me wrong, I am not selfish.  I like to give as I wish to receive.  I like to wear soft fabrics to make one wonder if it can even compare to my soft skin.  I like to say what feels good to my body, to my heart, what looks good to my eye.  I like to share what makes the sensations I am living in any moment special. I try to make sure that the people I love know that I do and why I do.

Well, I am not completely selfish because I do want it back. 

I like being called baby or honey or something sweet that says I am cherished.   If someone thinks there is something special about me I would love to know it.  It might just make me walk on clouds all week.  The payback is that I will want to do something to make them feel the same way.  I like to be held as one does precious things.

I  love having my face touched and kissed.  I love it.  In all honesty I love being touched and kissed all over. I try my best to give as good as I get.

I love being held or told I was thought about.  I especially like to know I was missed.  I want to be flirted with and romanced.  I want to be loved back.  I am happy to cook, massage, or run a bath and I feel cherished when those things are done for me.

I like to smell the people I love. (Blushing)  I do.  I always sniff my grand daughters and even my daughter, but don't tell her.  It comforts me.  I don't expect that from anyone else, but if there is something about me that brings comfort it would be beautiful to know.

So, sitting in the dark without any input of touch, sight, taste, sound, or smell is literally painful for me.  It literally hurts me.  I do not know how to not touch the people I love.  In my mind no touch is no love.  If love is felt, sometimes it should be spoken.  Life is too short to not have, show, bring, or feel passion, and if you aren't passionate about the one you are with maybe that says all that it should.

This is not somewhere I can stay.
My spirit cannot thrive in the dark.