Short...unsure...but still....

it's one of those tidy up posts, to brush up all the bits and bobs that occur when you believe you've wasted a week on nothing substantial. Well I'm going to throw that metaphor into confusion by telling myself - 'Rubbish' I have actually achieved rather a lot. Photo shoot with Charlie, goosebumps and all! pictures surreal, a very real statement. Countless emails (and repeats of emails) to people regarding promotion. Sue Farmer from Redruth Community Radio was on my list this week, an email went today. Her show 'The Written Word', Friday's 3.30 - 4.30 pm, is perfect for a plug in the right direction. I really want to talk about how much Kim has supported this exhibition. The descriptive pieces for each sculpture makes sense, not an easy task,both sets of surveys are drafted and proofs checked by both venues.
On a more reflective note, time for contemplation is short, and I'm unsure: is my work deep enough or consistently surface styled (that's a definite no, minimalism I can't do, but would you make a cup of tea without the leaves in the bag...?).The ideas are solid and the poetry is by far the best I've given to my friend and foe 'word'. I have to remember that this is not art alone in just the visual sense. I want each piece to be enough to hold the attention, the novel can lead the reader like a symphony...is the poem the poor overture?
I have never attempted an epic piece of poetry, it is better when I separate my poetry from my short stories, the endings fall and settle as they should. Whereas my poems rise, fall, rest and rise again like breathing, it is a process which is the same every time. The end can come if it needs to or it can pause infinitely, the subject getting tired of my observation. Every theme has a character of its own; I would say its almost like interviewing the subject whilst the object appears busy but aware. Odd, but imagination must be, should be? All I have to do is try and hold on to the ropes of technicalities, form, movement etc... moulding my creations like Ovid's Prometheus, 'From such rude principles our form began' but it is not man that is revealed in my words, but there once was a toad.......