By Dennis Maloney
You will be surprised to find
I am writing rather than dropping by
just before dusk as I often do.
But I don’t have the courage to
face you as you read this.
I hesitated to write as I don’t
want to expose our long
friendship to danger.
A few days ago I observed
under your microscope
a drop of water
I thought pure,
like a piece of glass
but in reality strange
creatures swirled about
in a transparent hell.
Don’t artists record appearances,
the life in shadows and the
deceptive surfaces of the world?
We are craftsmen, who work
in the matter of illusion,
while you are a master of truth.
I fear the dangerous journey you are on.
It seems the more the tools of observation are perfected
the more distant and elusive become the goals.
With each new discovery we are more lonely
in the mysterious void of space.
I know that you want to lead us
out of the labyrinth of superstition,
give us a certain clear knowledge,
a defense against fear and anxiety.
You correctly observe
that art doesn’t solve any
of nature’s enigmas but our
task is not to solve enigmas
but rather to be aware of them,
bow our heads before them
and prepare our eyes for
the never ending wonder.
I will tell you I have proudly
succeeded in combining
a certain intense cobalt with
a luminous lemon yellow,
as well as capturing the
reflection of southern light
that strikes through thick glass
onto a gray wall.
Our tools, primitive,
a stick with bristles stuck
on the end, a rectangle of canvas,
pigments and oils, that like
the human body and nature
have not changed for centuries.
If I understand my task
it is to reconcile man
with surrounding reality.
This is why I repeat
an infinite number of times
sky and clouds, portraits
of women and cities,
because only there do
we feel safe and happy.
Our paths diverge, knowing
I will not convince you
to abandon your polishing
of lenses, but allow us
as well to continue
our archaic procedures
creating these worlds
of color and light.
The Importance of Arts, Culture & The Creative Process
Poetry is essential to our culture and humanity particularly in these most trying times. This poem is part of a manuscript in progress centered on the Dutch painter Vermeer. This particular poem focuses on the creative process v the scientific process.I presently live on the lake plain of Lake Erie with its four distinct seasons, presently the very long one of winter. I previously lived part of the year in Big Sur, California which a much more fragile environment subject to fires, landslide and other natural occurrences which made me much more aware of the natural world surrounding me.
