Ekphrasis IX 2020 Virtual Exhibition
SET 5. Writer Initiators and their Visual Artist Responders, cont.
O. Libation (Leslie Wahlquist), Yang (Joseph DuVivier)
P. Slublock-Two-Scolds (Donald Shephard), (Robert Yelland)
Q. Forests and Families (Earlene Gleisner), Bridging Trees (Lynne Zickerman Olson)
SET 5. Writer Initiators and their Visual Artist Responders, cont.
O. Libation (Leslie Wahlquist), Yang (Joseph DuVivier)
P. Slublock-Two-Scolds (Donald Shephard), (Robert Yelland)
Q. Forests and Families (Earlene Gleisner), Bridging Trees (Lynne Zickerman Olson)
Libation by Leslie Wahlquist
|
Clusters clipped
from sacred vines sugar dripping, sun shines Towering vats await the crush beneath Priest’s soles bouquet of must quaff the opus of Dionysus Oh! the bubblies, clear and clean fiascos of Chianti and regions between Noirs, from floors of cool river valleys A nectar to expose the boorish and reveal propensity to whorish Oh, tequila! Liquid contentment with worm, agave with larvae blue succulent squirm Saint Patron, a spirit on ice served in procession with salt, a wrist, a slice A sunrise tryst o’er fiery mezcal plains the silvery realm margarita reigns Comfort to Aztec souls aggrieved mythical honey for lovers bereaved Heady hops fill the air Oh! elixir, soon to share Porter, lager, amber ale stout dark as night, draft of pale Ancient herbal protein shake agronomic seed perhaps, partake a pub crawl, Babylon barbeque the recipes writ in cuneiform, it’s Major League’s beloved brew Infuse the wort and collar the yeast it’s fit for man and also for beast |
|
Yang by painter Joseph DuVivier. Oil on gallery wrapped circular canvas. $750.
Slublock-Two-Scolds by Donald Shephard
|
Quercus scanned along the railway line that followed the Shamet River Valley to the station, which reminded him of his new tenant due to arrive on the late train from London. Post war economies had reduced the schedule to one train a day, but locals still referred to it as the late train and it often lived up to its misnomer. His parents had named their children Ulmus, Quercus, Holly and Acer so her name, Hazel Corylus, attracted him, perhaps another parental botanical quirk.
He fretted again that she might not fit in Slublock-Two-Scolds and its eccentric characters accustomed to isolation. Would her presence end the pristine rural character of the village? He had hired Minnie Gotobed and friends to scrub Primrose Cottage upstairs and down, making sure his late wife's room remained locked at all times. An ash tree beckoned him to support his back while he ate a Stilton cheese sandwich and a pear then drank a bottle of tea. Lulled into a stupor by the heat of digestion, Quercus dozed. A good night's sleep had eluded him since the war and he awoke in a sweat to pounding he took to be mortar shells until he realized the thunder came from Lady Anne's thoroughbred galloping up the escarpment. As his ancestors had for five hundred years, Quercus blended with his surroundings, and remained motionless while the local gentlewoman sped away. Sleep lured him again. The remembrance of his wife's death numbed his heart when he awoke. Billowing clouds scuttled across the sky, obscured the sun, and threatened a shower. He glanced down the hill to the cottage in the garden he still tended for his beloved Violet. |
In the distance, under the eaves, he spotted the bedchamber window and recalled entering that room grieving his darling's death. He relived his inability to save the one he loved and mourned the unreachable togetherness he had hoped to share in the years ahead. Redirect, he told himself, I shall redirect my thoughts to more pleasant matters. Raindrops splattering the leaves, and minute green ash flowers splashed pollen-laden water onto his cap. Grey weather echoed his deepening, somber mood as he remembered Violet smiling from the kitchen door. Redirect, I shall take a long walk. He tugged his cap and rambled along a circular footpath called the Two-Scolds Way until, hours later, without ever crossing a macadamized road, he returned to the stile on the escarpment above the village. At rest on the top step, he surveyed the horizon and followed with respect the green-skirted rider, who galloped down the hillside. The horse cleared the manicured hedges and the estate dry-stone walls before slowing to a canter, a pace then a walk up the beech-lined avenue to the manor. He walked down the lane past the garden, noted the high beech hedge needed trimming again, and left the living mausoleum for his present home. A shower overtook him and he squeezed his back between elm and hedge for shelter. He recognized the slow plod of his friend's donkey and glimpsed a woman sitting on the cart as it trundled a few feet from him. She has arrived. The shower passed and he trudged home. |
Man of the Earth. Response by Robert Yelland. 8x10 oil on canvas, framed, $275.
|
Artist's comment: "I enjoyed working on this painting and am happy with the way it turned out.” |
|
Forests and Families by Earlene Gleisner The trees stand tall,
Independent in their spiraling growth Toward the sky, Interlacing their branches To touch So tentatively In public, Intertwining their roots So firmly Into the Earth. If one falls, All are weakened By the proximity Of loss. |
Bridging Trees, responding art by Lynne Zickerman Olson. Sumi-E watercolor on Arches paper, 14x11. $150. 
|
