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Art as Memorandum
Art as Memorandum
Lovingly I have drawn a portrait
of you, using only the blood of insects
that were living under my sink.
They were happy, living off the sugar
that spilled from my hands
as I opened and closed cupboards.
We are always looking, always
looking in the wrong place. Always
tipping detergent onto the counter
where it seeps in, leaving
an ironic yellow stain
that can't be scrubbed away.
Now you gaze up at me,
dry brown eyes angry that I've
used such foul media and
pursed your lips in a tight sneer.
So I remind you: I am not an artist.
But look, I have killed for you.
Saint Peter, Sacre-Coeur ParisSaint Peter, Basilique du Sacré-Cur, Paris
Inside we engage in a make-shift procession,
pass the votive candles, the fountain
and the pews. Below is Montmartre
with its penniless artists and performers
in streets where one might still taste
the wine between the cobblestones.
His foot is rubbed bare, toeless,
each visitor reaching to stroke it,
the marble glistening in the yellow
of the cathedral. The humid air is thick
with a rustling of hopes, laid wordless
upon him. And he is graceful
staying beyond the closed doors, night
after night, with August outside
braying her naïveté. The moon nods
as we descend the stairs, face full, reflecting
the gray of the old stone, needing only a push
to take Peter into her arms and hum.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More