Learning to Fly, a poem

Today, tonight, tomorrow and over the next days and possibly weeks, I will be cleaning out my studio, moving things and preparing for the future, in whatever form it transforms itself. It is a revamping, remolding, rejuvenating, regenerating, reintegrating of things, space and even thought. I’m not a big fan of doing it but doing it must be done.

As I was ‘doing it’ in the office this evening, my glance fell to the following poem by Roy Roberts called Learning to Fly typed out on slightly aging off-white paper. It was written in 2006 in reference to both a painting of mine and to myself as its creator. The painting was showing in a group exhibition and from the time the show was hung until the evening of the opening a couple days later, he had written one poem each about six or seven paintings/artists.  When he read them aloud to a room full of artists and guests, the quiet air that surrounded his voice vibrated with a kind of admiration and awe. He had managed to transform the visuals into words, weaving the mystery of creating into something equally magic.

I have always felt quite honoured to have the poem as a keep sake of this time. And, of myself in that time. Bring that forward to this moment, when things are in flux towards what I trust will be an amazing next verse. I read these words and realize just how lucky I am to be able to create for a living. I would like to share this with you that perhaps you will find something in its essence that will coax you along to a greater good, a second chance, a creative gesture or a simple smile.

Learning to Fly, by Roy Roberts

*

DREAM. First you must dream day & night,

particularly when it’s inappropriate,

when everyone else is grounded, down to earth

for instance. DREAM of denying gravity.

*

DEDICATE. It takes dedication to grow wings

shape them, stroke them in time, steer & glide

then fly off the handle with sky underneath forever!

DEDICATION is the refusal to compromise.

*

WARNING. They won’t understand how you rise

out of sight, have become a skeptic of surrealism

and make songs & love from nothing…

They won’t understand or be able to pin you down.

*

*

*

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