Scenic Drive Gallery and Moonrise Press present SKY GARDEN, an exhibition of art by Ambika Talwar & Maja Trochimczyk. Opening reception: Sunday, October 16, 2022, 4-6 pm with a poetry reading from the Crystal Fire anthology & Bright Skies collection. In person: Ambika Talwar, Maja Trochimczyk, Joe DeCenzo, Bory Thach, Marlene Hitt, Mary Elliott and Alice Pero. The Exhibit is open by appointment until November 20, 2022 at Scenic Drive Gallery, in Monrovia, CA 91016, RSVP email to maja@moonrisepress.com.
This exhibition presents paintings by Ambika Talwar and photographs by Maja Trochimczyk, inspired by nature and natural spirituality. Some of Ambika's paintings have been used as illustrations in a new anthology by Moonrise Press, edited by Maja Trochimczyk, Crystal Fire, with 144 poems by 12 poets: Elzbieta Czajkowska, Joe DeCenzo, Mary Elliott, Jeff Graham, Marlene Hitt, Frederick Livingston, Alice Pero, Allegra Silberstein, Jane Stuart, Ambika Talwar, Bory Thach, and Maja Trochimczyk. The nature photographs by Trochimczyk appear in her 2022 collection, Bright Skies, with 85 poems and over 160 photographs.
Crystal Fire. Poems of Joy & Wisdom
ISBN 978-1-945938-58-0 (color paperback)
ISBN 978-1-945938-59-7 (eBook), 144 poems, 12 paintings
Edited by Maja Trochimczyk, and illustrated with paintings by Ambika Talwar, the Crystal Fire anthology gathers poems of joy and wisdom by 12 poets, 8 women and 4 men: Elżbieta Czajkowska, Joe DeCenzo, Mary Elliott, Jeff Graham, Marlene Hitt, Frederick Livingston, Alice Pero, Allegra Silberstein, Jane Stuart, Ambika Talwar, Bory Thach, and the editor. The poets span all ages and diverse life experiences. They include émigrés from Poland, Cambodia, and India, and those born in the U.S. College professors join community poets. Native speakers appear alongside those for whom English is the second, or the third language. The ”joy and wisdom” they write about are also different, as each poet follows their own path and gathers unique reflections to share with readers.
More about this book: moonrisepress.blogspot.com/2022/09/moonrise-press-publishes-crystal-fire.html
As Maja Trochimczyk writes in the preface, “The phrase ‘Crystal Fire’ may be seen as the symbol of all humanity, with each person born from the union of man and woman, the male and female DNA strands interlocking in ever new patterns to create human beings. In this phrase, "Crystal" stands for the feminine and “Fire” for the masculine. “Crystal” is peaceful, somewhat static, but well-constructed, stable, and growing slowly into perfection. It is the cosmos of order and being.[…]
In contrast, ‘Fire’ is dynamic, sometimes intensely dramatic, always changing, always transforming, constantly in the state of flux. It is the energy of change and growth. It is also destructive... ‘Fire’ means destruction and becoming. It is pure chaos. The Universe arises from the dance of these twin forces, like yin and yang, but neither is pure darkness, negative and “evil” and neither is pure light, positive, and “good.” Instead, they are the ageless vortex of cosmic unity and chaos, of creation and destruction. There is no value assigned to this polarity, for such labels are limiting and deceptive. Both aspects are essential, each cannot exist without its twin.”
Seasons
by Mary Elliott
I place myself,
An entity—
In the eye
Of this life storm.
Through ether-fuel,
Time energy,
Come back—
I am reborn.
Return me to the soil,
Knowing nothing
From the past.
Rise again,
Clinging tightly,
Onto this plain,
Where we’ve been cast.
It’s over now.
The innocence
Strung together
From within.
Fused tight,
In darkened winters,
The ice was getting thin.
Looking towards the pendulum,
Some can see the score.
To those of us left standing,
It gets harder to ignore.
Planted for a season—
Upon this road we go.
Like skins of snakes,
We shed ourselves,
Forgetting what we know.
If
I Rise
By Alice Pero
If I rise up past the sun
I will keep a point
down in the green
I will not cast all my anchors up
I will still touch
the tiny trees that sway
the weeping branches
If I hide behind the moon
dark shadows paint
on planet’s hills, beam
a long ray on moon’s quiet
I will still leave
my thought, brush
the wings of birds
in Earth flight
Form greeting
If I try to fathom space
mark deep traces
in the unknown
I will not rise up forever
past the fallen friends remaining
loved ones grieving
Those caught in Earth’s
endless turning
I will catch the silver
of the dep and silent sky
I will bring a treasure home
to touch the earth, each eye
Melting Mirrors
by Ambika Talwar
These burning times are rapidly
winnowing their way – ice is
melting as before melting into floes.
What shall we now dream of
in the middle of the eclipse?
The blood moon on a still night
has whiskers and we
wonder how to change the things
that break before their time…
Surely there is sustenance
for the having and for the grieving
rapidly remembering
beauty of translucent mornings
before the deluge and the smoke
before the cracking of old mirrors…
Look deeply into your heart's core
your soul may sing you onward
for your heart's burning
is but a smidgen away – Call in
your glowing soul…wild as love
Call it in and love it – Love it because
there is nothing else left for us to do.
Like Grapes on a Vine
by Maja Trochimczyk
—we
grow and grow.
Nourished
by gold light
and
sapphire water,
we
become sweeter as we age.
Last
traces of bitterness
and
resentment dissolve
into
forgiveness.
Yes,
it was a long road.
Yes, it was hard.
But we are here.
Grapes
on the vine.
I’m
kind to myself, kind to others,
kind
to the world. I listen.
All
grains of sand on the beach,
all
dancing droplets in the ocean,
the
salty mist on my lips – sing the song
of
creation. Such a joy to be. Present.
Attentive—to
the sparkling pathway
of
sunlight leading beyond the horizon—
to
the relentless rhythm of the waves
crushing
all worry into smithereens.
Out
flows my pain.
Out goes my sorrow.
In flows my peace.
In comes my
gladness.
Like
the ripening grapes on the vine
we
become sweeter as we age.
Bright Skies. Selected Poems by Maja Trochimczyk.
ISBN 978-1-945938-49-8, color paperback,
184 Pages, 85 poems, 160 color photographs,
ISBN 978-1-945938-52-8, ebook
In Bright Skies, as Marlene Hitt writes, "Maja Trochimczyk leads her readers into a lovely world. She sees the beauty of a rose, a bird, a sunrise. She has brought her childhood memories from faraway Poland into the splendid light of Southern California." William Scott Galasso concurs: "Every poem celebrates the incomparable beauty, diversity and healing power of nature--giving us reason for hope.[...] Whether one perceives dewdrops on a rose, the wind swirl of a kite in cerulean skies or an incoming wave bursting from a turquoise sea, one is moved and that’s the point. She presents all five senses and dares you to fully engage—and to be moved."
More about this book: https://moonrisepress.blogspot.com/2022/05/maja-trochimczyks-new-volume-of.html
On
Being Green in Vincent’s Garden
~ After Vincent Van Gogh, "The
Poet's Garden" (1888)
at the Art Institute of Chicago
A white rose faints on a cement sidewalk.
Crisp clear azure sky encloses the city in a cupola.
Art vibrates on the walls of the Art Institute
guarded by green-patinaed copper lions
in garish Christmas wreaths. Van Gogh
waits for me. Frowning, uncertain.
Yes, I love your iridescent greens,
celadons, aquas, emeralds, jades.
The vibrant grass, uncut new meadow
and the explosion of bushes and trees,
vibrating with the full force of life.
Leaf opens after leaf—after leaf—
exploding with cosmic energy
alive—so alive—so alive—so alive
so real, emerging from canvas
coming into becoming—stretching—
growing—being—breathing—living—
Even the sky vibrates in hues of green
and yellow, turquoise, and aqua.
Each plant, tree, bush—marked with
a thick layer of paint, intense brushstrokes.
I understand now. Vincent was one
of us, the seeing ones. Awake.
He could not tell us any louder
than in this saturated greenest paint.
Open
your eyes. We are all here.
The
world is ours to love, to see.
The Antidote
compress the sphere of attention,
intensifying the focus on minute details.
The liquid patterns of finches’ song, repeated
like a broken record. The sediment lines
on the layered rock from Big Tujunga Wash.
The translucent opal of a quartz stone,
smoothed by the Pacific on Oxnard Beach.
The imperceptible motion of leaves
expanding skywards, while their roots
stretch down invisibly, moist with dew.
Is it not enough to taste a
pomegranate,
really taste each tart aril, bursting
in your mouth?
Is it not enough to turn your face up,
to be kissed by noon sunlight?
“No fear, no hate, not even a slight
dislike”
says St. Germain. I clear the rubble
of memories of past pain, stronger,
more clingy than the pain itself.
The mind is full of useless knowledge.
The body remembers on its own.
Pitiful. The heart locks itself
in a hard shell of protectiveness.
I have to conquer this chaos within,
polish lamps, wash the windows
into sparkling translucence, letting
the light in—the
antidote to chaos.
No comments:
Post a Comment