(c) Image and Poem – June Perkins
“When a soul has in it the life of the spirit, then does it bring forth good fruit and become a divine tree.”
-‘Abdu’l-Baha, Paris Talks
Here the hands represent the soul
in action and on that hand
is the imprint of the divine tree.
You can read and see more photographic reflections on the month of Speech at Nineteen Months.
When you look up
you will see
attached to the trunk
a giant gecko.
When you look around
carved in a tree stump
hours of chainsaw artistry
not to take a tree down
but to adorn or transform it
to art about nature;
to make you want to connect
with the creatures
that live there;
leave the world of your phone
as you walk
with nature converse.
there’s a real possum hiding there
bounding out when you notice it
saying, ‘remember you saw me
you don’t need to take
a photo of me with your phone.’
Thankyou Matty G
for your clever artistry;
Thankyou Far North Queensland
for making me always want to look up
down and out…
(c) June Perkins
Research reveals that the two chainsaw sculptures above are done by Matthew George, a Queensland creative chainsaw artist.
You can find out more about the reasoning behind the project here Chainsaw Art at QUT’s Kelvin Grove.
The main idea of the sculptures is to connect the viewer (most likely a student) back with nature, and to encourage them to look up, and at the ground, rather than stick to their mobile phone.
They certaintly captured my eye. After seeing two I knew there should be more and my curiousity was lit and I went off on a web search.
I love making discoveries of real animals, but these art ones were also intriguing. Some even looked freshly done.
The other day when I was looking around QUT, I noticed a real live possum! It was staring at people wandering past, and was a gingery colour.
So far I have just found two chainsaw sculptures, but there are a few more hanging around the campus.
For even more information see Matty G Inc.
(c) June Perkins
Here I am with my daughter catching a bus to the art museum.
We don’t talk but with our dark brown eyes look for
inspiration out at the land scrolling
past the windows.
What we share most is a love of the creative.
For her it’s online comics, art and stories.
She has a recommended reading list for me and
is itching to beta read my current book in progress.
Here anyhow’s one decent thing – the way she leaves post it notes
concerning dragons on the loose
and how she hopes I have the best writing day
on my desk.
She’s just making sure
a dragon makes it into the story
Today I attempted an important person poem. I have written these before but today’s inspiration is to use three starters to stanzas inspired by Wilfred Sassoon. I am not in a rhyming mood though.
One way to find a poem is to go on the lookout for street art . . .
Art in the city, not shut away in galleries, but everywhere you look.
It’s on power boxes, telegraph poles, railway station walls.
climbs onto walls and alleyways.
chalked, painted, sprayed, and poster papered.
It’s murals with messages from Martin Luther King
everytime I used to catch the bus in Marrickville
I’d see his face with an Aboriginal flag behind it.
It’s pieces that make you think, smile, wonder remember nature.
Driving past telegraph poles to the Gold Coast
we catch nature wrapping itself around telegraph poles,
birds and trees just in case we don’t see the real
they’re there in art.
I would love to go back and photograph these artistic poles.
I think of the artists commissioned or perhaps underground ones.
What are their names?
Are their signatures there?
Is there a guidebook somewhere to tell me the story of the…
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Do bones want to smile
Once the flesh is gone to become
One with the earth?
Do hands want to touch
The freed soul that flies from bones
One with the heavens?
Beauty’s canvas dies
The paint covers abstractions
Impressions of life
Like a lost butterfly’s wing
Fade in artist’s memory
Bones can bring tears
When families’ searches are over
Now peace can be found
Hands cannot reach out
To pull them from fate
One with heavens?
Beauty is unravelled
In agonies of the lost
Truth is found clear
Still waters invite
Midnight runners to find their visions
In a moth’s night touch.
(c) June Perkins
For some background: see
Mona Lisa’s Bones