02.08.09

I haven't posted anything on this blog for quite some time. The winter has left me hibernating under my duvet. Sometimes I put this pressure to come up with quality writing only to find myself dwindling in my effort to even try. The effort to write feels hard and taxing. A big black chasm of nothingness....where do I start?

This past week has been a particular difficult one for me. I spent more days near tears despairing over how uncertain things are: writing, creative life, home life, family life, relationships, finances, etc, etc, etc. Only to discover there are no guarantees, there is nothing to cling to for reassurances.

Then, I went to see this amazing play last Wednesday, Ruined by Lynn Nottage. It touched me the way nothing else has for a long time. She had some beautiful lines, some heart-wrenching moments and an ending so positive and life -affirming...it gave me hope. It rekindled a light within me. The actors were amazing but the language/the text was there to help them soar.

So I've decided for the next while to write, in this blog, a bit about process, to write about craft, to share images and text that inspire me until I am back in the flow. This blog will be part of my process to keep an active mind/heart on my artmaking. Eventually, I want to see a small part of my writing soar.




All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Embedded

Red sunlight streaks across the morning sky
Wild blood burns love down our veins.

Death dreams
a bare woman faces
as her shadow subsides
where the page drowns in
puddles of black ink.

Fruit blossomed into juicy prickly pears
and flowers bloomed purple-pink feather petals.

We are frayed characters
who shimmer and disappear
in the movement of the day
in the glimpse of a moment.

Quiet moment…
a beat before the words
are written when we are a
mere droplet on a cobweb…
when poets murmur, we
become embedded in the lines.

Middle Noise

A perplexing task
listening to what people are saying
Obstructed by the flotsam
that riddles the grey matter.
Matter seems to be at the heart
of what intrigues me today.
What matters?
Can you see the forest from the trees?
Not right smack in the middle of a lesson.
Not in the middle of a sentence.

Asleep on the couch
Body stretches
length-wise
Limbs spill over.

Randomness of melancholy
thoughts strum the skin
on a city sidewalk

White noise does not touch when
a thin-skin membrane wards
off the onslaught of battering life