I also called this painting “Space Rocks”. Paintings are like people, they need a name so you have to come up with one. This painting is owned by my brother, James Larry Jackson. Beats me what he calls it or even if he still has it. It’s not up to me to decide what happens to them.
It’s quite beautiful to me.
david michael jackson july 21, 2012 send wine to go with the art
Landscape With The Fall of Icarus
William Carlos Williams
——————————————————————————–
According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring
a farmer was ploughing
his field
the whole pageantry
of the year was
awake tingling
near
the edge of the sea
concerned
with itself
sweating in the sun
that melted
the wings’ wax
unsignificantly
off the coast
there was
a splash quite unnoticed
this was
Icarus drowning
From Collected Poems: 1939-1962, Volume II by William Carlos Williams, published by New Directions Publishing Corp. © 1962 by William Carlos Williams. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp.
***
Lazy Way out
Seed from the bottom
of the parakeet cage
cascades over a ledge
and down the red brick wall.
An assortment of weeds
sprouts in the lily bed,
slender shoots, an offering
to the gardener’s cupped hand.
A tiger striped kitten
pounces on a mound
of fresh green leaves
shimmying up a cross breeze.
A young girl returns
to her bedroom window,
sowing seed to the wind–
The gardener waits.
8/02
(2)
Retired Seaman
The captain sits
at the breakfast table
scrimshawing voyages.
Cafe curtain sails
billow in morning’s bluster.
His shore wife leans
over the porch railing,
aging figurehead
counting goldfish
in a landlocked pond.
The clapboard house lists,
half-foundering to port.
Previously published in miller’s pond – 2001 edition
***
My mom died last year. She and I kinda wrote this song. We were talking on the phone and I wrote down some things she said. She spoke of a car of course and the conversation shifted to others in my family. In writing the song I threw in my wife’s green eyes.
The words so sound like my mother as I read them tonight. I have re-mixed this song to emphasize Andy Derryberry on guitar and bass. I rocked it up as best as my music can be rocked. For me the song is certainly American and sounds like a mother talking about her children. I can’t do my songs justice so they will be lost. It’s a shame on this one.
An artist cannot share the feelings for the art. Whether the world thinks its good or not, the artist feels like a father and mother to the art. It’s an intense feeling that no object deserves but it’s there. It’s there. An artist wants the art to survive, to not end up rotting in some garage or, in the case of music, disappearing completely. It’s not a small feeling.
I think of a place where all the lost objects are, an entropy collection place for all the lost pens, screws and things that disappear. In that giant pile of lost things is art.
Ah poems and songs. Songs don’t come easily for anybody. With poems you can roll your angst into a ball and throw it at the wall. Songs on the other hand only seem to come along occasionally like a drunk that demands liquor right then. They appear and they have to get out and then they are gone. I don’t know if there is another song because I have to wait for the train again. It’s not like a poem. These boxes constantly demand a poem and I deliver them like milk. With a song I have to wait for the train as I swear to never write another.
He really loves that car
He admired it from afar
He went down one day
and drove it away.
Oh he really smiled that day.
And he really loves that girl.
It’s a romance for all of the world.
They met one sunny afternoon
when the shadows were scattered just right.
She wore green to match her eyes
on that very very first night.
Yes he really loves that girl.
You can see them everywhere.
Cruising around town
having fun.
You can’t get them down
because they’re like one.
Oh they really love life.
They sip it like fine wine.
They are a shining star.
And they really love that car
They go everywhere.
yes they really love that car.
It’s red.
yes they really love that car.
I sure love them
and they really love that car.
david michael jackson july 20, 2012 editors@artvilla.com send origami
Features Clora’s great horn , voice and, oh yes, on piano, Roger Fleming, bassist Ben Tucker, and drummer Bruz Freeman, Walter Benton on tenor and trumpeter Normie Faye
She toured with Billie Holiday, and she is the only woman trumpet player who ever recorded with Dizzy Gillespie and played with Charlie Parker.
The ladies haven’t finished their work. It’s still hard for a young lady to be properly recognized for talent with an instrument. We have to mention male names for reference to the trumpet, don’t we? I’m being harsh because it’s common for musicians to mention with whom they played. It’s their resume.but these recordings show talent equal to Charlie and Dizzy. Where were her trips to Europe? To say ladies like Clora and Marian McPartland were breaking ground is an understatement. It was more like concrete. It still is.
if you came here looking for an Wiki on Clora Bryant, here it is.
There is another place where anyone should be proud to be as well, Old Dominion University did this exhibition on Women in Jazz
Another place she is showing up is
THE GIRLS IN THE BAND a film by One Step Productions tells the “poignant, untold stories of female jazz and big band instrumentalists and their fascinating, groundbreaking journeys from the late 30′s to the present day.“
Here is an excellent article about Clora by Judy Tweet who has a new book called WOMEN WHO DARED
This is a very good interview with a great lady:
This sweet video shows the mentor:
Reasearch always turns up a surprise or two, like this poem for Clora by Professor McNair We like his panache whatever that it is. Did I say we? There I go again. There are just Tigger and me and these chickens.
We have decided, Tigger and I, that you want more music from more of the ladies in this blog starring women featured in THE GIRLS IN THE BAND.
The Girls in the Band Produced by Judy Chaikin, Michael Greene, Nancy Kissock. Executive producer, Greene. Co-producer, Hugh M. Hefner. Directed by Judy Chaikin. Written by Chaikin, Edward Osei-Gyimah
david michael jackson july 19,2012 editors@artvilla.com send caramel kisses