Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Dusting


I see objects much as I see words. They demand a harmony of arrangement, a certain space around them, and this in turn relates to the larger space in which they’re contained. A room is a page. A word is a hat, vase, or ashtray. My success in meeting this demand varies. I have good days, I have bad. And then I remember how a forest is related to the sky, the ocean to a vast life underground, wisdom to the heart, silence to chaos. I pick up an object. I set it down. It’s part of a song, a poem.


Update:
In the Forum: spinach and a well organized mess.

12 comments:

rahina q.h. said...

this is so true of painting in my mind... i see emotions and pasts... and William thank you, a wonderful surprise i am not worthy of...

William Michaelian said...

I feel the same way about the portrait. And now I understand it that much more.

nouvelles couleurs - vienna atelier said...

yes it is really true.. It is all connected in the mind!!

William Michaelian said...

Like wind through the trees...

jasmin said...

lieber William, eine gewisse Ordnung braucht das Leben, weißt du, es ist eine Gesetzmäßigkeit, das Abweichen ist Chaos, ich denke.... viele Grüße zu dir von Jasmin....

William Michaelian said...

And maybe in chaos there is order we do not see or understand....

Wine and Words said...

This reminds me again of Temple Grandin and how she SAW in vivid dimension, the way shape and space moved against and around one another. She SAW it in ways no "normal" person could. I stand amazed at you both.

William Michaelian said...

Fascinating. Thank you, Annie.

Anthony Duce said...

I like your vision of things, the world maybe, how you organize thoughts. I feel much better now in this day. Thank you.

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Anthony. And it’s a good feeling to find your message now, with the day mostly gone.

Woman in a Window said...

is it as though this world and the things in it are metaphors, and perhaps it is our job in these lives of ours, to understand the poem, or at least, to experience it?

i remember one morning a few years ago when i was about to unlock the store that i work in at 9 o'clock. i remember stopping and seeing for the first time the keys in my hands. and outward from that, as if an atomic bomb had hit and i could witness the resulting blow of energy, i saw metaphor in everything, suddenly, as though i had been blind and i had just experienced first sight. i have had smaller moments since, but that moment was uncanny, and both large and condensed, at the same time. is it anything like that?

(i'm sorry. i always plan on writing small words with just a few letters, like perhaps yes, or no, and then this happens.)

xo
erin

William Michaelian said...

Erin, as you know, the same thing happens to me. But in this case, I shall disturb your beautiful response only to acknowledge it.

Yes.