In the Name of Art

by Thomas Piekarski

In the Name of Art

In the Name of Art

Viewing on my computer in 3D
one of Katharine’s paintings
of some suspended disembodied
skeletal android being swarmed by
multicolored swirling clouds
illuminated with starlight
and scattered glowing dust
I’m reminded of that
immense force Schopenhauer
termed the Will
which issues from unidentifiable
sources beyond our reach,
hidden divinity, de facto
totality of all consciousness
as well as intelligence.

I share that thought on the post,
her response a fresh haiku,
one of which she writes daily
and pairs with the paintings:

“Silent consciousness
gives rise to the personal
beyond our thinking.”

Katharine seems quite aware
that in a 3 dimensional world
many people are but puppets
too often ineptly backward,
unable to grasp life’s truths.

Another of Katharine’s works
is rendered with fiber pens
on watercolor paper, assorted
shapes like mandala, sunburst,
ghost, squiggles, mystic eye,
intricately executed in the most
minute and exacting detail
that maximizes complimentary
as well as contrasting colors
which only a ripest imagination
could possibly actualize,
spontaneous artistic creation
aimed at high enlightenment.

Katharine’s associated haiku states:

“In your pure essence
resides a quintessential
beauty beyond thought.”

Aha, now I suspect she has
been visited by the 4th dimension,
which according to consensus
of foremost scientists is time itself,
time that slows down or speeds up
and can alternately halt depending
on the perspective of a traveler.
In the 4th dimension anyone
could change their age
at the snap of fingers.

Scrolling down Katharine’s page
I’m taken by another 3D image.
It’s a mixed media exercise
in vividness, blindingly brilliant
colored slivers of light jetting out
as one would perceive when blown,
blasted into the cosmos
from a supernova’s core.

Once again a timely haiku explains:

“Simply go within.
The source of life is in you.
Manifest your life.”

It’s said that in the 4th dimension
one could transmit through endless
stretches of possible realities,
a concept of which I feel
Katharine is well aware.

Considering contemporary obsession,
dwelling on pain and daunting angst,
you might think someone with such
acute sensibilities as Katharine would
fall into the trap of ingratitude
for life’s immense treasures.

In this uber technical age
many a poet and painter
expresses rage
on canvas or the page
with every pigment applied,
every word written, whether
or not their expressions are
destined to be seen or read.

But Katharine remains calm,
unaffected by artificial stimulus,
no disenfranchised soul astray
from the path ahead, like Plath,
or any of those whose lives were
destroyed by excessive disorder.

Albert Einstein: “Time is what
the clock says. The distinction
between the past, present,
and future is only
a stubborn, persistent illusion.”

As if to prove Einstein right
Katharine posts this haiku:

“Enter the presence
to find the glory within.
We are more than mind.”

The photo she associates with
this poem shows her, eyes closed,
artist’s brush in hand,
kneeling on a Persian carpet,
brush about to apply a stroke
on the canvas prepped with a solid
burnt orange background.
What is to emerge
depends on her bountiful Will.

Unfortunately, aliens existing
on foreign globes must struggle
as we do with 4D geometry,
who in the 7th dimension
could readily travel to any
potential world, and in the 10th
through infinite universes.


Alphabet Soup

A. Anatomical logic stripped bare,
    sunflowers relieved.

B. Beta and gamma rays
    hurrah in harvest as
    leaves coat Machu Picchu.

C. Cat wisdom: not outsmarted
    by a mouse hiding
    beneath the house.

D. Dostoyevsky, that is provided
    you enjoy tortured minds.

E. Enterprise in the name
    of changing guards,
    bell tower on fire.

F. Failure masked as success,
    congressman reelected.

G. Glad that everlasting
    are your words etched
    in love’s crystal window.

H. Hot takes on podcasts
    that erode or enlighten
    minds in their wake.

I. I-it duality confounds
    cosmologists focused on
    pinpointing consciousness.

J. Jackass symbol of Democrats.
    Aphrodite wades alone
    in River Styx.

K. Kicking it at the concert:
    forget about bootlickers.

L. Lollapalooza in Louisiana:
    oh hallelujah,
    slaves free at last!

M. Mother Earth longs
    for return to roots
    in an inverse universe.

N. Never seems forever
    when violent partisans
    take up arms.

O. Opioids cost lives although
    abundant immigration
    takes up much of the slack.

P. Perpetual patrimony in synch
    with proliferation of species.

Q. Question everything,
    including why glue
    makes papers stick together.

R. Radioactive motes bombard
    open space, some infiltrating
    our vulnerable atmosphere.

S. Sustenance comes
    from such discovery
    that averts the untimely
    Grim Reaper’s arrival.

T. Tea for two across
    the boulevard from
    Luxembourg Gardens
    on a spring afternoon.

U. Undercurrent like ultraviolet
    that sneaks through blinds
    and wakes the dreaming baby.

V. Victory for justice and peace
    over despicable forces of evil.

W. Wherewithal to be flexible
    under duress. Remember
    Ulysses also had it rough.

X. X rebranded social media
    outlet commandeered by
    a dubious genius.

Y. Yellow, color of the sun
    as cones not rods
    in our eyes conceive it.

Z. Zebras rollicking all over
    the North Pole sprout
    antlers and tentacles.

About the author

Thomas Piekarski

Thomas Piekarski is a former editor of the California State Poetry Quarterly. His poetry has appeared in such publications as The Journal, Poetry Salzburg, Modern Literature, The Museum of Americana, South African Literary Journal, and Home Planet News. His books of poetry are Ballad of Billy the Kid, Monterey Bay Adventures, Mercurial World, and Aurora California.

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