When a girl has sails in her eyes
do not try to kiss her ruby-stained lips
or pet her porcelain wrists
for she
belongs
to the salted waves of adventure
that crash
and break
against your hopeful
hands
“Advice for The Optimist” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Today begins our newest series:
Art, poetry, and miscellaneous pieces that explore isolation, abandonment, imprisonment, separation, and loneliness
Artwork: The End of a Love Affair by Hugo Barros
Broccoli Hands by Sarah Cruce
Pear Picker by Bene Rohlman
Salt Water Grazing by Sarah Cruce
Space Cowboy by David Delruelle
God Bless by David Delruelle
This image, according to the artist, represents acceptance of the present and anticipation of the future. The woman is the past, and the Expressionistic style and upward gaze symbolize the future. The flame-like palette “eliminates the possibility of negative space and ensuing objectivity” (203).
Human figures are often found in Roberts’ art, but abstracted. The theme of this piece is “women of color” and how they are “protectors of family and tradition.” She is quoted as saying, “My ‘gathered visions’ are evoked and implied rather than realistically delineated in the traditional sense. They have evolved and are wedded in patterns of light and color, reflecting my emotional and spiritual reactions to places and ‘people of color’ around the planet, with whom I have bonded. The energy invites viewers to unravel the themes and come to their own conclusions.”
Information from University of Iowa
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She’s a disco
lollipop
with
golden gloves
that shimmer
and shine
like her
diamond
blood
she’s a million
pouty,
lipstuck
mouths
spitting
kisses
at the crowd
A vulgar splat
of
invincible youth
hissing at boredom–
so sure of the
truth.
“Cocaine Kisses” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork by MIchelle Cordes
search for me
in crisp, light flakes
of ash
that perch
on sills
beneath the bludgeoned clouds,
for snuffed out fires
always warn
of my suffocating
steps
“Now, You See Me” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Judgement by Anyes Galleani
our
pleasant
black
faces
are pressed together
under a veil
of chalky peach
that drapes over your sleeping spine
and my
shivering shoulders
to protect us
from open air
and honesty—
Every day we dress
like dolls
with cherry cheeks
and nodding heads
because you are a daisy
and I am a tulip
and we
live only
to be
seen
“The Female Gaze” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: Spectrum by Lucille Malkia Roberts
She danced, and was obliged to go on dancing through the dark night. The shoes bore her away over thorns and stumps till she was all torn and bleeding; she danced away over the heath to a lonely little house. Here, she knew, lived the executioner; and she tapped with her finger at the window and said:
‘Come out, come out! I cannot come in, for I must dance.’
And the executioner said: ‘I don’t suppose you know who I am. I strike off the heads of the wicked, and I notice that my axe is tingling to do so. “Don’t cut off my head!’ said Karen, ‘for then I could not repent of my sin. But cut off my feet with the red shoes.’
Excerpt from ” The Red Shoes” by Hans Christian Anderson
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An enchanting woman whose feet have been hacked to bloody stumps is an image of humanity that comforts me.
Let me explain.
We are all complex mixtures of beauty and horror, pain and delight, greed and charity. But there is such a cry for dichotomies in western culture, that we tend to ignore this. It’s simple!! Pretty is pretty, and Yucky is yucky, now let’s all get ice cream sandwiches!!
But there is no pretending when it comes to Karen. The crude image of her perfect body sitting atop bloody mutilated legs makes her brokenness impossible to hide. And isn’t that sort of honesty liberating? Sometimes, I feel like my body is a lie I tell to anyone who is capable of seeing me. It is young, functional, it has no apparent deformities, and it conceals my self-loathing. It’s nice sometimes because I never truly feel vulnerable, but it breeds a lot insecurity. If no one sees me for what I am, how can I ever truly feel accepted?
I think that a lot of people will say that this story is about how vanity can ruin you and blablabl.. more oppressive ideas about female sexuality professed by the catholic church… but I have always seen it as a tale about facing the good, the bad, and the bloody within yourself.
The truth isn’t simple; It is a young girl who looks gorgeous from the waste up, but is forced to hobble around on the ghosts of her own feet.
–
Angie
those gobs
of greenish muck
that slide off your tongue
in petty,
privileged,
lumps,
make me yearn for
the sight of humiliation and
soupy mutilation
“Stop Talking” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: I got Your Back by Keith P Rein
She is
glitter-coral nail polish
chipping
like the white on an aging picket fence–
no more lavender ribbons
or dainty satin shoes
to protect
her virgin skin
from the dirt
of the earth.
Just the
picked
and peeled remains
of
what used to be
brand
new
“Little Girl Lost” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
For more information on artwork, click images.
The Show Tell Project 