One month after losing my first literary paycheck, I found it amongst some library slips, in my recycling waste can. Wonderful feeling: I was paid twice :-). This time, I rushed to the bank. Deposited.
Paul wanted to visit the Russian Icon Museum (in Clinton, MA) over Easter weekend, as we spent the holiday in Conway with cousins, and the above panel interested me. In writing poems and stories, I’m always seeking the right balance between that which is fugitive (seductive) and that which is sharp (metallic, retentive) and risky (inherently unstable). This description of the pigments used in icon painting reminds me of the language and narrative structure I am drawn to.
I prefer the painted word. The braid, collage, pastiche. My mind collects fragments of journal, drawings like the two I found, below, of Great Aunt Helen’s– mistakenly stored in an envelope labeled “School drawings of Horace and Agnes Wells.” Finding these (below) among the simple school drawings was like rummaging through discarded library slips and finding my literary paycheck.
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