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More Of That Terrible Poetry : Series 2

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Back faster than I initially imagined. I had a good talk with a friend, and we thought it was a good idea to revisit the terrible mush that we all produced as angsty teens. It’s all in good fun, and a hearty laugh at my own terrible ambitions to be a comic book creator/writer. Plus some of this tripe is absolute dog shit, so I need to loosen up and let the pretentious blatherings of my youth out into the great wide open for mockery. Can’t always post your best self. I also recollect that some of these were to be song lyrics, given how I have them laid out in my note book. But I’m not really able to replicate that here, so they instead read as longer form sentences, rather than curt sentence chunks. Anyway, on wards and upwards.

Grab a drink, and a warm blanket and get ready to retch:

1.) Thirst Circa 1995

I’m so thirsty that if i drink in your love I just might drown. Pulled down into the icy bleakness of your heart, so cold it fills up my head. Breathless voices, dance at the edge of my vision, like heavenly bodies glimpsed in the inky night sky. I’m just so thirsty. I want to drown in it. I want to breath it all in, cold choking my lungs. Pulled to the center of the void, where I’ll find you. I’m so thirsty, I’ll lay myself down. I want the darkness to expand into my everything, explore the corners of nothingness that I have never seen before. You’ve leached into my every pore, weighing me down, thirsting for my touch. To you, thirst is life, now I’m soaking wet and the waters all around me, pulling me down.

This one is a tad more cohesive, but still not exactly stellar. But I think I was trying to get over a breakup at this point, if my memory of the time is right, or maybe not. I thought the first big break up was around or some where near 1998. Not sure, could have been the medication I was on making me feel a bit, tweaked. On the bright side, it all seems to work as far as using drowning as a metaphor. Also that it feels like some one else’s personal darkness was having both an inward and outward effect on me. I will state, clearly, that in 1995 “Thirsty” did not mean horny, sexually affected, or have any kind of romantic connotations.

2.) You can’t call home? Circa 1995

Times a wasting, I’m heading home, late for dinner and I didn’t phone. Can’t call now, eleven’s long gone. I’ll say ciao and be home before long. Light of dawn is breaking, chills of the night, suns coming up as I run, temperature rising and I’m just too tired to fight. Last night was a blur, but now that I’m home I’m sure I’ll never go out again, not while I’m so immature.

A quick little ditty about how I usually ended up getting grounded in my teens. Staying out far too late, and not calling. But in my defense, we weren’t drinking, or smoking or doing drugs, and at that age I sure as hell wasn’t having sex. So being tardy (late) and not bothering to call home, was sort of my jam as a teen. Disrespectful, sure, but odds are we were playing our instruments, jamming and having Street fighter tournaments with Zero chance any girls were present, unless one friend or another had a younger sister.

I’m not sure why, but there is a significant time jump in my notes, as though I didn’t write anything down here between the tail end of 1994 and some time in 1998. Maybe the notebook got misplaced or packed away during a move or a bedroom remodel.

3.) When death had eyes Circa 1998

Stand back and watch the parade of clowns walk by. Teary eyed and wavy haired, marching single file in despair. For a candle has gone out and we’ve laid you down to rest. High above the clouds, the empty earth your bed, you will rest for eternity. When we call, if we call at all, I’ll name you – beautiful. You cannot turn back the hands of time, for they’ve been set, not to be touched – cold. The flame has flickered out, and we had to put you down to rest. With you, our hearts got buried in the ground. Sending up your soul, so high, drifting on the sound of our lonely weeping. A string of silly shoes, marching in single file, sad eyed clowns, calling out your name, songs for the void on their lips.

I can’t honestly tell if I wrote this after the passing of a family friend, of if I had just gotten into Temple of the Dog, and was trying to be deep, where I have no depth to speak of. At least by eighteen. Nothing much of anything had happened. I have such a bad memory, I can’t tell if a grand parent had died that year, or what. Certainly had a thing for death or dying. Makes all those “wish I were dead” memes you see on Imgur make far more sense, in context of having been a moody teen myself. Here I was thinking I was actually a pretty chipper fellow. I’ll have to ask some childhood friends what their honest opinion of me at the time was. I distinctly remember my favourite pass time being adding dirty lyrics to songs on the radio, as they came on, like an impromptu improve session with friends when driving anywhere.

Either way, this was series two of terrible, bad, awful poetry from my youth.

The time is now for some terrible poetry

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I’ll take the lead here and showcase various terrible poems that I’ve written since 1994. Expect some lazy tropes, teenage angst, lots of crossed analogies that don’t really add anything substantive to the narrative. I will do my best to publish them as is without any major edits. I will correct spelling if I stumble across anything really egregious. Prepare yourselves for a round of terrible poetry.

Actually now that I think of it, this could be a monthly serial of all of my needless poetry. I’m dead certain I have enough for a few lengthy entries here. I should place a caveat here, that in my hey day, my hand writing was minuscule and sort of atrocious. So I can not guarantee that the original thought or intent will remain intact. Might have to guess at a word or two, seeing as I’m now twenty five almost twenty six years older than when I wrote these “poems“.

Buckle up folks, an auteur I am not:

1.) Soulless Man Circa 1994

Standing all alone, sits a man on his throne, gazing at a town he once called his home. Never to return to his village of peace, destined to roam, for fear this soul shall cease. Once he was a boy of paradise and joy. Gone, stripped of his city of love. He is led to destroy on the wings of a dove. Cold windy nights spent with heavenly lights, teary eyed fights with only blood in sight, stood he, all alone. Frozen tears are his throne, his old home, now ashes and blackened stone. Shadows cast down, pale whispers, no sound. An empty man, blood of a boy, stains of a memory torn, a life destroyed. Cold and barren is this man, as he stands all alone.

Oh boy, that is some dog shit right there. This is tough. May not have been as good an idea for a writing prompt as I originally thought. This is well before Game of Thrones, or anything of that sort coming into my life, so I guess I was trying to be brooding and moody? On to the next few then, with haste my friends…

2.) None too clear Circa 1994

I looked into the mirror the other day and what I saw shocked me. My reflection pointed to me and said ” You’re skinny, weak and would be better off dead.” I didn’t take too well to my reflection so I pulled the mirror down off the wall, broke off all of the pieces of frame, and shattered the silver backed glass. The next morning I awoke to find the old mirror back upon the wall as if nothing had happened. I stood before my mirror, and starred deeply into my reflection. Our eyes met, but I noticed something strange, for the world was turned around and it wasn’t me but my reflection starring back.

I get what I was going for here, like the old switch aroo, between the real me and the reflection all of a sudden passing through into this plane, and me drawn into the other, but it’s kind of hazy, and not well executed. I have a feeling with the more of these I read, the more certain it will become that I was depressed, or at least morose as an early teen. let’s dig in for another one or two, and then we’ll call it a day for the first of what could be many trips into terrible poetry territory. And no, I am not posting all of them, same are just too awful to share. So think about how bad these are and imagine something either too bizarre, saccharine or melancholy even for me to post twenty fives years later.

3.) Shattered Circa 1994

Shatter the mirrors that look back with distaste. Close up their shutters, so they no longer expose our inner horrors. Nail shut the eyes that glisten, wet and painful. Feel these fragments scatter, lost to the wind, mixed with the clouds, and buried by the dust. See your faces gazing back, held between the mirrors cracks, the glass will shower your soul with tiny pieces of memory, like sand kicked up by a storm. I’m not ready for you to expose me as only a shattered mirror could.

Looks as though I had a thing going regarding mirrors at this point. May’haps it was due to being six feet tall and something like one hundred and ten pounds. Lank greasy hair, and sore limbs. Could be an educated guess, but I’d have to see some photos from that time to really know. Oh, we had also moved that year from a medium town to a small village in rural Ontario, and I’d lost all of my friends to distance and lack of mobility between destinations.

Good God there are a whole lot more terrible poems waiting in my archives, so I can always revisit this again another time sooner or later. I don’t have a schedule for writing topics, I’m just trying to keep things fresh and interesting, and to stay off Facebook® more and more.

2019 Sculptures : And a shout out to Olympus built cameras

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All ten bust sculpts from 2019. Some are done in Super Sculpey and some are done in Chavant NSP Hard, and Monster Clay Hard.

I finally got around to putting together a single page spread of last years sculptures, with all of them together, the good, the bad, and the indifferent. I completed less than half as many as I did the year before, but I chose to work the bulk of the years items in super sculpey, so that they could be baked and painted, which is different than the Chavant stuff, which are used to cast and mould items for larger production. I have yet to step into that ring, mainly because it is expensive, smelly and requires knowledge I do not yet have a firm grasp of. Plus I’m not a house hold name, and I’d hate to end up sitting on twenty five pieces of my own artwork for no reason other than hubris, thinking others would like my stuff even half as much as I do in some instances. I chose to add in the crappy sculpts too, because, Hey!, a good portion of creating is putting out garbage until you refine your skills enough to do something you are somewhat proud of. I haven’t put any new clay down yet so far this year, I do have an armature bulked out ready to go, but I’ve been focused on writing, reading, and drinking water until I can’t stand myself any more. I have a couple of ideas for what I will do, I’m just not ready to commit to it yet. I tend to see so many great things over on the Shiflett brothers sculpting forum on facebook, and on instagram, and I squirrel those images and ideas away until I can really get my head around it.

Also I wanted to give a shout out to my Olympus SP-500UZ which I bought in 2006, which is still going strong to this day. I came to turn it on today to get my collage done and it was dark, but with some new batteries, she is up and running and just a great as the day I got it. Although if I’d have had the money, a Pentax film camera would have been my go to, but just out of College/University I chose a point and shoot that had several more options and capabilities. This is pre digital SLR being ubiquitous and cost effective for noobs to own. Although the camera on my phone is really good for this sort of thing too.

One goal I am going to accomplish this year, if to do a full figure again. I started out doing whole people, and then couldn’t do faces and hands and feet. Spent some time with the Ninja Turtles as my muse and could do a passable three fingered hand, and two toed feet and then went to busts to really get to know a face; the eyes, ears, mouths and noses. I have yet to master any other those elements, but I can at least make things look human, or depict the essence of my subject. I think i got fairly close in 2018 with my Thanos, Yondu & Thor busts. Also a big reason I’ve calmed down on my output is that I have limited space in my office/studio for storage, and don’t want to have my rough work scattered throughout the house, or in the basement. We have Nerf® gun fights, and rough house down stairs and I’d get mad if my stuff got injured in the course of us having a family fun Nerf® gun fight. An errant bullet deforming an oil based clay sculpture would not be my favourite thing.

Oh, and another thing, the reason I did 60% of last years sculpting work in Sculpey was because I had ideas about painting them all, and taking the best paint job / best sculpted item to the Markham Fair. You see they don’t really have a sculpting category, but you can enter painted ceramics. Sculpey is ceramic like, but not ceramic. So I can enter to get people to see my work, but it doesn’t qualify for judging or prizing. Just eyeballs, and a chance to show friends and family my work out in public. Which is fun, so I have that going for me.

Maintaining a love for the arts

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Yes, so here I am back again after a brief respite. I have been having a bit of an issue with all things art, and I have been trying desperately to rekindle a lost sense of joy and wonder with art in general. Not to say that i will not continue to draw and paint (I have a few items in the works for my wife and my nephews for the new year). But I have been trying to combat a sense of ennui that I couldn’t seem to shake. It isn’t full scale depression, nothing that serious. I think my main issue was that rather than doing something for the sheer joy of it I was always concerned about the final product, was it going to be awful, would it be a waste of time or a half hearted effort if it didn’t immediately click or work as an art piece. Recently I’ve really had to push myself to just do something, anything, to get back into the swing of things. Perhaps because my day job is producing commercial art for other people, based on their wants and needs rather than as my own artful expression (sounds artsy fartsy I know). This fear of doing something crappy, or not “up-to snuff” has left in its wake a fair few projects over the last year or two ( too many to mention) although my awesome room is littered with half started, partially finished items in a wide range of mediums. Pencils, inks, acrylics, pastels the list goes on.

However, during the summer I stumbled across this website called “Side Show Collectibles” and all of the amazing items on their just got me so excited, but they are also not cheap, so how do you get all of those fantastic items, without paying the $$$$$$? Easy, teach yourself to sculpt free standing figures, and make your own custom version of the pieces you just can’t get out of your head. Sounds like fun, and IT IS!, Although I am so not a sculptor by trade, training or inclination. But I just love the feeling of getting my hands dirty, and working with the clay in my hands. I like this because I work in a digital medium all week long, and as much fun as I have putting together very colourful 2D and even 3D displays, print ads and apparel, it is really something to see a creation come together in real time, in real space, with the work of your own two hands. Not that Graphic Design isn’t a major love in my life, believe it is. I wouldn’t do it 40 hours a week, plus evenings and weekends, reading and researching and refining my technique constantly. I’m far from finished learning about the many facets of digital & print design.

But with private art works i can really open up and tackle things I wouldn’t normally do at work, and that can be very freeing, and invigorating. Which is the point! To be inspired, and excited and to really get zoned in and not realize how many hours are just whizzing by. That is a tremendous feeling, and one that I have been trying to recapture since my days of drawing comic books and when I really got hooked on Photoshop compositing.

A really great sculptor at Stand Winston Studios named Steve Wang said “Art is a lonely life, so if you don’t love it, why would you spend you life doing it?”. I may have paraphrased that a little bit, but it is true. Art, whether digital or hand crafted usually isn’t a team activity, it is just you and the project for hours on end. If you don’t love it, why spend your life alone doing it? So there I was, working day in and day out, being very technically proficient, but not getting that rush, or feeling a zeal for it. You know what makes art more fresh and appealing, tackling new art in a format you are super unfamiliar with, that pushes you to try new things and get out of your comfort zone or “rut”. Now the lessons I am learning about proportion, and posing, and light and shape and form is really adding a new dimension to my design work. All I had to do was reawaken that love & lust for life that had been slowly leaking out of the every day experience. Does that make sense?

So the first three items that I tackled were : a generic super cop (sans head and hands), a Tinkerbell inspired fairy for my wife, and an as of yet uncompleted Ariel from the Little Mermaid®

They are far from perfect, and in most cases they are about capturing the essence of a personality and the pose rather than being show pieces with crazy detail. I only started doing these about 3 weeks ago, so I hope that in another 3 week I will progress a bit more, and maybe just maybe i’ll get to the point where I will use super sculpey and then bake & carve out a finished piece that I can sand & paint and display. Until then i will just continue to indulge my artsy side, and continue to hope that my zest for art will work its way further into my daily projects.

If anyone has any sculpting tips or tricks they’d like to fill me in on then just leave a comment.

Cheers!

-M