We paint landscapes of barren trees in tainted umber,
meet for coffee, talk of art
and how leaves do not grow in the winter soil of philosophies but rather along the arteries of unfortunates.
We insist in strident tones of the over-caffeinated classical form, color, composition and beauty are chimeras, an apocalypse with a twist: those horses divine their own undoing.
When amber spirits soothe our rhetoric, we accept the golden mean as our gift to each other
before the moon rises and loneliness dims our mirth.
The Process It grows by the minute, the trash bag nearly too heavy to lift as it bulges with discarded slides, those pieces of celluloid in plastic frames, or cardboard which is the better choice upon which to list artist-title-medium-size, since labels peel, jam the projector, another item we no longer need in today’s technology of computers and the ephemeral storage of images.
The discards click like an old newsreel of my past artworks. The memory rolls out how strong my fingers were, my hands thick with muscle from the energy I worked into clay or onto canvas.
And the many photographers I hired, each with a particular style; one serious about his work, another with a roguish smile, preferred payment in artwork. But one especially dear, the mother of nine children. I marveled how she maneuvered her heavy camera bags, lights, umbrellas and stands upstairs to my studio, photograph work with such attentive care. She already understood our creations were to be savored, documented, and with grace, allowed to leave.
Georgette Unis is the author of Tremors, a chapbook of poems published by Finishing Line Press, 2018. Her poetry is published in several literary journals, most recently in Naugatuck River Review, San Pedro River Poetry Review and Southwestern American Literature. She is also a painter with multiple solo and group exhibitions, some of which present broadsides of her poems.