Inspiration Board-9th March 2013

Today my muses are spread so far across the map that there really is no map. Yay for eclectic inspiration. Enjoy!

I cannot get enough of John Grant’s new song, Pale Green Ghosts. It is the soundtrack for my packed writing weekend.

A Year in Books/Days 228-229: Frontier Madam/Amedeo Modigliani

FRONTIER MADAM THE LIFE OF DELL BURKE, LADY OF LUSK

  • Title: Frontier Madam The Life of Dell Burke, Lady of Lusk
  • Author: June Willson Read
  • Year Published: 2008 (A Two Dot Book)
  • Year Purchased: 2012
  • Source: Half Price Books
  • About: I really wanted to like this book. It has elements that make it ideally suited to my weird tastes. The narrative focuses on an interesting period and place little discussed elsewhere, and the heroine is something else: strong, fearless, unconventional, and largely forgotten. All things that make my heart flutter with anticipation. If the whole was as good as any of the components were in life, it would be a great read. Instead, it is unsatisfactory. Not bad or shoddy, but oddly flat, simplistic and bloodless. Dell Burke was a girl from a solid working class background, with a loving family but few prospects. A tale as old as time, of course. She turned a pragmatic foray into prostitution into a decades-long career as a powerful, wealthy, fair, civic-minded madam in Wyoming. The contents of her life could probably fill several books. Unfortunately, the lady was something of an enigma. The material for an interesting, complex biography just isn’t there. What we are given is a civic history of Lusk, Wyoming filled with third and fourth hand anecdotes about its most notorious resident. Many of the brief stories are entertaining, but they add little to the flow and structure of the book. The passages of imagined dialogue, which are mercifully few, are stilted and unbelievable: a great idea poorly executed. The conjecture used to fill in the gaps between anecdotes and facts is boring and without colour. I wish I had bigger things, nicer things, to say about this book, but the story is paper-thin. The biographer tries hard. Hailing from the same part of Wyoming as her subject, she is genuinely connected to the legend of Dell Burke. It’s obvious that she is excited to share this remarkable woman with the rest of the world. Perhaps that is the problem: whilst the shell of the legend is intact, the substance of the real woman is long gone. There’s nothing left but a disjointed jumble of local in-jokes worn threadbare and a vague memory woven into the collective subconscious of the town’s residents. It’s no wonder that this book reads like a padded-out pamphlet for an annual town festival in Lusk. Continue reading

A Photo Round-Up of Some Things My Mom Sees on Her Walk Home from Work, Part 1: Public Art

My mom works and lives downtown. She takes different routes to and from her job, depending on weather, inclination, and schedule. She’s lucky to see the city from such an intimate angle. Being on foot allows her to stop and actually look at things, to take them in with consideration and deep thought. Columbus is a city awash with public art. It’s everywhere you turn: bold, unique, subtle, provocative, demanding attention, always evolving. Boredom is turned away; it has no place there. I accompanied my mom on her Wednesday commute. I am a writer, but the profound human experience conjured by urban surroundings-gritty, beautiful, humorous- is one of the things that fuels my creativity. These images represent a handful of the aesthetic wonders we saw that rainy day, that she sees several times a week as a matter of routine. Lucky lady.

“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.”-Pablo Picasso

“A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament.”-Oscar Wilde

A Year in Books/Day 212: The White Blackbird

  • Title: The White Blackbird A Life of the Painter Margarett Sargent by Her Granddaughter
  • Author: Honor Moore
  • Year Published: 1996 (Penguin Books)
  • Year Purchased: 2004/2005
  • Source: A bookstore in Buffalo, New York
  • About: I love stumbling across books about people whose names and faces don’t register. It is fair to say that I am obsessed with the obscure and the odd and the oddly obscure, especially when the subjects in question are creative and rebellious women. Anyone determined to live a life of artistry has to break some barriers. Deterrents come in many forms, but we all have expectations that we must push past in order to have the freedom to create. Continue reading

A Year in Books/Days 199 and 200: MGM Posters/MGM When the Lion Roars

DAY 199: MGM Posters The Golden Years

  • Title: MGM Posters The Golden Years
  • Text: Frank Miller
  • Year Published: 1994 (Turner Publishing, Inc.)
  • Year Purchased: 1990s
  • Source: I have no idea!
  • About: There’s nothing like an old movie poster. When art and commerce combine with history and nostalgia, the result is a visually stunning social commentary. In looking at the representative posters of five decades, changing attitudes and mores are as obvious as changing aesthetics. MGM was known for the luxuriousness of its productions, and the top talent of its employees. Although designed as throwaways, the posters that advertised its movies were no exception, and neither were their artists. My favourite era for this exciting medium is definitely the 1920s.The posters are stunning. At the risk of sounding like a crotchety hundred year old, it has been all downhill since then.
  • Motivation: Old movies are my friends. We’re tight. I’m pretty close with art, too. Continue reading

[15th August Inspiration Board] Visually Inclined

My writer’s brain requires a lot of different stimuli to keep on churning fast enough to function. A slowed down thought process is detrimental to my creativity. If you jumped out on the obvious limb and guessed that I probably have a hard time meditating, you were correct. Although I relish being alone, I do not handle quiet well. I need noise: a slightly too-loud television, a wide-faced Labrador crunching on a bone, a cat scratching on a door frame, low but audible music (The Clash or Patti Smith) pulsing from my laptop, discordantly lovely street noise breaking in through a few open windows, dogs racing and barking down the halls. Sirens. Car alarms. Screaming, skittering children. The sound of my bare feet beating against a table leg. A bus breaking to a stop. I could write with a baby squawking in my face. Noise. It’s beautiful. Continue reading