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You are here: Home / Archives for Robert Haas reading

Sonnet/Sonata, An Evening with Robert Hass, Jonathan Biss, and Heather McHugh

November 23, 2012 by Iskra Leave a Comment

Piano And Butterfly WingsRecently I had the pleasure of attending an elegant soiree at the Seattle Asian Art Museum as a guest of Heather McHugh. McHugh, in case you are unfamiliar with her, is a poet and MacArthur fellow, as well as recipient of a Stranger Genius award. Part of McHugh’s genius manifests as generosity. This evening’s offering of intensely beautiful culture came in the service of Caregifted, her charitable organization devoted to offering relief and deep respite to the exhausted and over-extended caregivers among us.

Many of us know someone, (or we may ourselves be) in the position of giving care to a permanently disabled person. Often this job is a 24 hour commitment and unpaid, as the person is a loved one, relative, child or spouse of the caregiver. The job is life-long, and it can be unrelenting. Each year Caregifted gives some of these people a week of time and inspiration and rest in a beautiful location. The program is a pilot at this time and it is McHugh’s hope that the idea will spread and that other organizations will form to do the same thing.

Among all the thousands of charitable organizations in the world, this cause could seem small–until you consider just what the unpaid life-long volunteer contributes to the greater social fabric by doing this. Imagine, for a moment, all of the disabled, in whatever capacity, mental or physical, suddenly without a caretaker, how we would function as a society. Most of us do not have the skills, much less the compassion, to care for people we do not know with autism, or alzheimers, or wheelchair bound– and those who step in and step up provide a sometimes invisible, powerful and indispensable thread in the fabric of our society. Caregifted’s week of time says, “We see you. Thank you! And may you restore your spirit.”

Robert Hass Reading

Only a poet with an unusual mind would conceive this project, and then present an evening of such enchantment in its service. Robert Hass took the stage to read both his own work and poems about art and music. I have searched in vain online for his conversation with Modigliani–startling, eloquent, and please somebody tell me when it is published! Following him, Jonathan Biss played the Steinway and convinced me I may never have heard the piano played before. I sat ten feet from the stage, and my tendency towards cultural narcolepsy did not have a chance. I quite literally felt chills up and down my spine.

The PianistPhotographs © Iskra Johnson (i-phone)

A documentary film (“Undersung”) about Caregifted is in the works, portions of which we viewed at the end of the evening. If you would like to know more (and see film clips) please visit the Caregifted site or donate through Children’s Hospital Foundation.

 

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Caregifted, Heather McHugh, Jonathan Biss, Robert Haas reading, Seattle Asian Art Museum

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Today’s mood, from the morning walk. Today’s mood, from the morning walk.
A metaphysical idea waiting to become a drawing. A A metaphysical idea waiting to become a drawing. All day I have been studying graphite, the most evanescent of mediums. Fragility. Once you break the egg, scatter the nest, leave the children without family on an abandoned beach, what then? 

I have spent the day drawing. In the background, which becomes foreground with one click, is the news of the rounding up of another thousand or so human beings by bounty hunters given a quota, thrown into concrete cages and disappeared because someone decided that America is no longer the home of the #huddledmasses.

The plaque on the Statue of Liberty says:

“Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Noem and Holman have not, apparently, run their hands over these words.

How do you continue making art at a time like this? You chase the metaphor. There is always a constant truth beneath the chaos.
Media studies. Addition and subtraction. Media studies. Addition and subtraction.
Somehow, between checking the news and the usual d Somehow, between checking the news and the usual distractions I managed to complete a drawing. Going back to the beginning: drawings in dust. 9.5 x 12” Charcoal powder, compressed charcoal, charcoal pencil on Moleskine. I feel peaceful for the first time in weeks.
The train tracks that go along Golden Gardens and The train tracks that go along Golden Gardens and pause briefly at the locks create a rupture in the city landscape. When the trains go by, the roar and squeal is like a thousand wild animals let out of their cage, and the ducks in the pond at the edge of the park shudder and dive under the water. A little farther north at Carkeek there is someone every year who steps in front of the train and whoever witnesses that is never the same. 

Sometimes the cargo containers are filled with coal, uncovered, and I have been part of demonstrations, which included polar bears and Orcas, objecting to that. Now, as we are being asked to casually accept nuclear reactors on every block as the price of having artificial intelligence, coal and its simple visible dust might look a little more friendly. The train brings with it economics and politics and life and death and class and all the people on the beach are just trying to have a moment in the sun. And the boaters at the marina, if they have finished polishing and descaling and mending the sails are lying back with a guitar and getting lost in the mountains. If you are willing to live right next to the train tracks, you can pay a much lower price for your home, but your dreams will change. I have lived next to the train tracks when I was very, very small and every night I woke up screaming and ran across the floor in the beams of the streetlight looking for safety. I have woken up in a train yard on a bed of cardboard and gotten on the train in the dark. Only when you do that, do you know just how hard metal is.

I’ve been drawing recently from life and this study was done from a photograph. It drove me crazy trying to see details that I couldn’t really see and feel them with the pencil. I’ve abandoned the drawing for now, but I learned a great deal about perseverance and obliteration and re-perseverance. Also how machines pretend that they are perfectly symmetrical and are not. And when you don’t draw them with perfection, they look just plain wrong so you have to make them more perfect than they are, at least when they are in perspective.
Tonight’s abandoned bird. The next one will be bet Tonight’s abandoned bird. The next one will be better. I’ve never tried to draw a Robin before. I’ve been obsessed with them since David Lynch sent them over to my childhood house, where they spent day and night getting drunk on the holly berries outside the kitchen window. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about google Laura Dern, Blue Velvet. And the Robin. It’s a hymnal to the good and the normal, done absolutely abnormally. I am learning all kinds of amazing things about how Robins build their nests. They start with mud. I did not know this. And in a drought, they will drag straw into a birdbath to get it wet and then drag the straw over a wormhole. Robins build their nests in the most unlikely places: drain spouts, highway overpasses, really bad motel parking lots. It’s kind of like how people find third place in community, even in the bleakest places. A franchise McDonald’s where people become regulars and always get the fries and just the fries because that’s all they can afford is a similar statement of naive valor: people talking to strangers and becoming known and taking shelter where they can. And if they leave a shredded napkin out there by their car, it will end up woven in with the straw and the leaves and the cigarette butts perched up there in the nest on the backside of the billboard.

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