Day of the Dead Sideshow Celebrity Paintings to be On Display

[Frida (Snake Woman), Diego (Lobster Boy), Day of the Dead Celebrity Paintings, Mixed Media, 2012,Cathy T. Colborn]

     After another lull and mass influx of rejection letters, I finally had another hit. A member of my family showed my spin on Day of the Dead Painting to a gallery owner, and he wants to take them. Right now there are only two completed, but I have a sideshow list going: Salvador Dali as Ringleader, Poe as an Animal Trainer, and possibly Emily Dickinson as an Elephant Riding Starlet. The list goes on with my obsession but that is all I can handle with finals, events, and the upcoming holidays. 

     The only problem left is putting a price on your artistic children. That is always hard. So is parting with them when they get sold. I am taking photos of the process, accessories, and finished pieces. This is mainly so I can have a print and if someone wants one of the characters painted. I do not want to sell prints or replicate these. What makes them so special is they are fun, a tribute to my idol Frida, and very unique. It is better to keep them that way. I am not going to lie...sell them for a good amount also.

      Above is a pic of one of the acessories I have attached to the works (rough stages). I am hoping to glue on blessed virgin medals, fruit made of string, and ceramic flowers. These are all symbols you would find on Día de los Muertos. 

     The Gallery is called, Earth, Wood, and Fiber. I am hoping by the time these are completed (hopefully over Thanksgiving Break) that they will encompass all of those things and more. Got to pick out cool 3D frames.

     Well I have a lot of work ahead of me, so I better get started. I will drop a link but I cannot promise it is the perfect one yet: earthwoodfiber.com

Also check out my blog on Transient Magazine because I think my three poems and my full page bio and picture will be out at any minute. 

Probably be back then and thanks for stopping by.

-Catt

Top Twenty Poetry Prompts: What Tips I’ve Stolen From the Best, by Cathy T. Colborn

[Newton Lake Skating Snack, Cathy Colborn, Canon G11]

If you’re like me and want your poetry experience to be as exciting as a smash and grab for the readers, then you must know what’s safe to steal yourself. I can be your guide in this poetry robbery. Here are some things that I’ve mimicked this semester, turned on their heads, and made my own to resell to the public:

1. Frank O’Hara Personifies an Object. Quietly. In the poem A True Account of Talking to the Sun on Fire Island, the sun becomes someone the narrator can speak to. The narrator gives the sun excuses for waking up late. O’Hara does this with colloquial contractions and friendly conversation. His stanzas are tight (no unnecessary or redundant words). He uses “he said” to let us know the gender of the sun, and when the sun is speaking.
2. Frank O’Hara does couplets like no other. I’m suspicious that this master poet stole some techniques from another master...Basho. The great haiku-maker always writes of one part historical, one part timeless. Usually, we’d see that in a haiku of three thoughts in a set pattern of syllables. Somehow whenever I read O’Hara’s couplets, they leave me with the same feeling of something familiar, yet a pivotal moment through his eyes. A great example is in A Quiet Poem.“Slowly, the heart breathes to music / while the coins lay in wet yellow sand.” Try this technique if you want really powerful lasting thoughts in a simple format.
3. O’Hara doesn’t complain about growing older, he spices up the future. Bitter about getting a little grey? Reminiscing? Nobody cares but your ma. So, take some advice from me. Steal O’Hara’s “let them live” attitude and give poetic advice to the people in charge of the fun for the next generation. A good example is in Ave Maria, “For their first sexual experience / which cost you a quarter / and didn’t upset the peaceful / home.” Definitely pinch this bit on sending your kids to a movie if you want to sound less whiney and more shocking about growing older.
4. O’Hara knows his place and writes it in specific details. If you’re going to write a poem of proper place, say New York, well then let’s hear exactly where you’re at. A good example is in A Step Away From Them, “On / to Times Square, where the sign / blows smoke over my head.” Don’t dumb it down for anyone who hasn’t been there. I don’t care what they say, nowadays they can Google it and experience it later. There's nothing greater for a reader of poetry than to visit a place you’ve only read about (and for the first time know somewhat how the author felt). 
5. Frank O. isn’t shy to write about an adult beverage or vice, so why should you be? Commercials and pop songs pretty much have said everything, so writing about an alcoholic drink or a one-nighter in college isn’t that shocking anymore, actually human. And let’s not forget it’s the “narrator’s” experience. I love to shift blame on fiction. Anyway, here’s an example of the beauty of spirits in As Planned, “After the first glass of vodka / you can accept just about anything / of life even your own mysteriousness.” 
6. Langston Hughes knows the Blues, if you do, write it. I know I said nobody cares but your ma earlier, but the universe is a vast place where many people can relate to many things, and if you can express that deep sadness, a group of bad things that have happened to you and aren’t just “a stroke of bad luck” then you’re well on your way to touching many hearts who are suffering also. A painfully beautiful way to feel (rather than just read) these stories are through the lyrics of Blues music and Blues poems. Here’s a sampling of The Weary Blues, “I got the Weary Blues / and I can’t be satisfied. / Got the Weary Blues / and I can’t be satisfied — / I ain’t happy no mo’ / and I wish I had died. Notice while reading any of Langston’s poems that he tends to follow the 4-12 bar rhythm, a Blues staple. 
7. Langston Hughes knows a good line and isn’t afraid to run with it. Repeatedly. Once and a while we get what I like to call Lyrical Gems. Concise sentences that leave the reader unsure if they want to smile or cry. I’m not kidding, these things are writer’s gold and if you got one or two, don’t be afraid to put it in another poem or make a collection under that title. They’re your own epigraphs. Instead of using those of others at the top of your work to show where your poem was birthed; you can push out your own mind child, name a play after it, start a collection, or title a whole book after it. Hughes reused the lines “A Raisin in the Sun” and “A Dream Deferred” in multiple creations. Very Successfully. Research it.
8. With number seven being said...if you can quote someone or take news from an event and do it justice, then do it like Langston Hughes does. Not only does Hughes start with a famous quote; he also uses dedications to death notices that have touched his entire existence. Examples of these are found in the poems The Bitter River and Theme for English B. These poems not only analyze things that were said from another source; they revive the holes in his heart, and we feel them bleed all over again. Try this if you’re not only looking for inspiration, but have a need to also express a moral or do someone proper justice.
9. Hughes knows how to be someone other than Langston Hughes. Narrative poetry gives you the freedom to tell a story. Anybody’s. We see Hughes writing through the eyes of a woman in Madam’s Past History, “I had a / HAIRDRESSING PALOR / before / The depression put / The prices lower.” Hughes was also a man seeking revenge by murdering his boss (who also stole the narrator’s lady) in Blue Bayou. Fiction (and character desire) can give you the freedom to break some commandments. Writing or otherwise. So become someone else. See what you could get away with and experiment.
10. Langston lets the metaphor do the work for him. Come on, you know you’re guilty. Every writer has picked a completely wrong comparison, forced more bad descriptions by trying to connect the dots, and then the reader has to really work to figure out the story. Hughes picked the great metaphor of a staircase to describe the tough climb of the narrator in Mother to Son. The poems states, “Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair. / It’s had tacks in it / splinters / and boards torn up.” The metaphor works because even if we can’t relate to her horrible memories; we know what it feels like to be stopped by a tack, how it feels to not be able to go where we want to go because something is holding us back, and what it feels like when something gets under our skin. The deepening conflict works if nothing else does. 
11. Michael Dickman is haunted by flies. Flies? Yes, flies. What do you dream about? Use it. When Michael Dickman lost one of his brothers, he had dreams about that brother and huge flies doing surreal things. A great example of one of the many poems with this theme is from Killing Flies, “The flies need to be killed as soon as we’re done eating this delicious meal they made.” Tell me that isn’t haunting but different? I think I may try this after this Top Twenty List.
12. Michael Dickman reflects on creation and death. They both happen to everyone. There's a great poem called We Did Not Make Ourselves that was published in The New Yorker. It has some great lines such as: “I didn’t make my brain / but I am helping / to finish it” and “There is only this world and this world.” You really need to check out Dickman’s world, because his poems are like none I’ve ever seen.
13. Dickman can combine two memories and make them work. Like watching whales and watching heroin injections. I would say this could recall Number 10, but with Dickman, these are two actual off the wall references that have happened and are now paired perfectly. The poem I’m referencing is Seeing Whales. Here’s a few lines, “Unbelievable quiet inside you, as they change / the faces of water. / The only other time I felt this still was watching Lief shoot up when we were / twelve.” 
14. Like a melody in music, Michael Dickman play’s with the beauty of pauses and tapping staccato. Michael makes you hang in the white space. The poetry is so good that follows, you literally are hanging on your writing stool for the next word. He plays with single word lines that pack small punches after the whitespace for a knockout blow. It leaves my spinning brain seeing birds and flies. Here’s an example in At Night (2), “I thought         This is what we were saying: / —Sandalwood / —Palace Fire / —Ghost Limbs / —Blindness / —Oh, that’s lovely.”  I can’t do this poetic melody proper justice here, so I implore you to watch him on Youtube or read him on Fishouse.org.
15. If you have a twin, grab him, and write amazing poetry together. Michael Dickman Bonus: Matthew Dickman. This isn’t cheating on keeping to my five tips from four greats, because twins basically have the same DNA...but not the same style. I’m just kidding around, but I’m sure Michael would agree. His bro is great! I’ve learned a lot from both. Here’s a bit from Show us the Pleiades,“If the body does not float above / the sanatorium bed / then electric shock- / A body coming down the wild hall forever.” Very different compared to how exact the Dickman twins features are, but both still yummy eye and ear candy. Look them up. Now.
16. If you’re going to rhyme every other line like Robert Frost, then do it mostly with one syllable words on the ends for hard powerful stops. Some of Frost’s most beautiful poems are rhyming shorts. Neither Out Far or In Deep has beautiful hard stops on the ends, Here’s an excerpt, “As long as it takes to pass / A ship keeps raising its hull; / The wetter ground like glass / Reflects a standing gull. Try this if you want your rhymes to sound less nursery rhyme and more award-winning poet.
17. Robert Frost says one thing but means another. Look for the clues. This breaks a writing rule of being clear, but try to experiment. We all know some of his famous lines, but have you really thought about the words in The Road Not Taken? I’m a realist, so I believe he was being sarcastic. The roads “worn...about the same” and “both the morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black” leave me wondering. If you read footnotes you find it was about a friend who always regretted later a road he would pick on their morning walks together. With this being said, I think Frost was proud of just choosing and not “ever come [ing] back.” See if you could play with tricking your readers into thinking your meaning is something else...in the end it’s brilliant to see what others take away from your work and how it touches them anyway.
18. Frost describes nature. Beautifully. You can retreat on Frost’s farm. Could you imagine writing where he was inspired for Mending Wall? If you’ve somewhere to sit and be in touch with nature and not be crowded by the cement jungle, then see if you could invoke Frost. Take lines from The Oven Bird that could only have been made in the quiet of the woods. “There is a singer everyone has heard. / Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird. / Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.” See also the poems: Birches or Design.
19. Write on how we try to control nature like Frost does. Simply in poems like Unharvested or Dessert Places where we see how Frost speaks of farm tasks left undone, but if we weren't here...wouldn’t the “apples still fall unharvested?” This is Frost’s playing with our presence amongst nature. He plays with the give and take of existence. If you write about the world around you in your poetry, try to make a similar statement. I did. And I love what my nature poetry has yielded this year because of studying Robert Frost’s techniques.
20. Frost’s Fire and Ice poem probably would be cheesy if the title was the last line. I’ve said this with flash, and I’ll say it with poetry, please don’t give away the ending before you even start. It’s okay to have parts of the title peppered throughout your poem, but not at the end. Frost wrote the last lines as “To say that for destruction ice / Is also great / And would suffice.” Exactly. He gave me the title, broke the meanings down, and then tied it together without putting the words back together. I’m not going to tell you to try this; I’m going to plead with you to do it. Always. Well, nah, perfect the rules then break them. 

 There's the end of my recent 20 best writing tips stolen from four greats (it'll probably be added to later). I hope together we can keep researching and experimenting to make our works more spectacular and meaningful. Please share what you've researched with me.

*Works Cited correspond with Tip List’s numbers. See below.

Works Cited:

1. A True Account of Talking to the Sun on Fire Island, Frank O’Hara, P. 367, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 2.
2. A Quiet Poem, Frank O’Hara, found here: http://www.poemhunter.com/frank-o-hara/
3. Ave Maria, Frank O’Hara, found here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ave-maria/
4. A Step Away From Them, Frank O’Hara, P. 363, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 2.
5. As Planned, Frank O’Hara, found here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/as-planned/
6. The Weary Blues, P. 688, Langston Hughes, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1.
7. “A raisin in the sun” is a line from Harlem, Langston Hughes, (p.704) and a play written by Langston Hughes, and 7b) “A dream deferred” is also a line from Harlem, also a play, and appears in other works by Langston Hughes, both poems are on P. 704, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1.
8. The Bitter River, P. 694, Langston Hughes, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1. 8b) Theme for English B, Langston Hughes, P. 702, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1.
9. Madam’s Past History, Langston Hughes, P. 697, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1. 9b) Blue Bayou, Langston Hughes, P. 698, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1.
10. Mother to Son, Langston Hughes, was found at: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mother-to-son/
11. Killing Flies, Michael Dickman, Found at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/22194
12. We Did Not Make Ourselves, Michael Dickman, in The New Yorker, Found at: http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/poetry/2008/09/01/080901po_poem_dickman
13. Seeing Whales, Michael Dickman, in The New Yorker, Found at: http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/poetry/2008/01/14/080114po_poem_dickman
14. At Night (2), Michael Dickman, Found at: http://www.fishousepoems.org/archives/michael_dickman/at_night_2.shtml
15. Show us the Pleiades, Matthew Dickman, Found at: http://thestory.org/sidebars/poems-by-matthew-dickman
16. Neither Out Far or In Deep, Robert Frost, P. 220, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1.
17. The Road not Taken, Robert Frost, P. 209, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1.
18. Mending Wall, Robert Frost, P. 203, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1. 18b) The Oven Bird, Robert Frost, P. 211, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1. 18c) Birches, Robert Frost, P.211, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1 18d) Design, Robert Frost, P. 221, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1.
19. Unharvested, Robert Frost, P. 221, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1. 19b) Dessert Places, Robert Frost, P. 220, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1.
20. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost, P. 214, Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, Vol. 1.

[Photo:Cathy T. Colborn, Newton Lake Skating Snack, Canon G11 B&W&O!]

Video: Reading at Rosemont College, PA: Catt Colborn, Poet

Video Credit:
Intro: Rosemont MFA Creative Writing Interim Director, Carla Spataro
Taken by: John McGeary

Cathy T. Colborn reading at Rosemont College in September
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CAEKTU7g-00