Conversations With Dracaena
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My friend Susan paints
the technicolor dreams of plants. She sees the sparkling joy behind the skin of fluid fiber form. She dances with her plants and puts the dance on paper. The air around her hands is thick with spattered rainbows. You know she goes through changes and paints them all behind her. She goes an ancient way to God -- paint is Breath of Heaven. For her, there's prism eyes of fire. She reflects a jeweled pattern -- paints a diamond sunshine, prints a glittering beneath. She paints the thought before the deed, the wish toward which we move, the orchestration of electric gesture, the choral harmony of nerves, liquid crystal cells, a showering of sparks, pouring through the form, the pulsing circuitry, the messages we send unknowingly through unmapped space between each solid thought. |
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"Conversations With Dracaena," from "Conversations With Dracaena," a chapbook of 8 hand-tipped lithographs of monotypes by Susan Fishgold, and 20 poems by Susan Chapman, Word Merchant Press, Brooklyn, NY, 1982
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