Above Photo: Mark Lacko I’m extremely honored that my poem “The Hands of Masters” is featured as part of the magnificent exhibit Portraits of Process at the The David Rockefeller Creative Arts Center in Pocantico Hills, NY. Portraits of Process …
I’m so happy to share that my play Little Heart is having her world premiere at the Jewel Theatre in Santa Cruz (opening January 27 , 2023) The cast is terrific, the director superb, and this professional Equity house has …
A few days ago, I noticed my lush and leafy philodendron was sprouting very unphilodendrony growth. I scratched my head. In bygone days, errant canary seed might have been napping here. But alas, we had to bid our melodious friend …
The Internet tells us we can sing Happy Birthday, or recite a speech from the Scottish play when we wash our hands. Instead, I like to take those soapy thirty seconds for a blessing.
That brilliant orange hit me like a bolt from the blue. Installations often leave me cold, but I gladly embraced New York in February to experience this artwork. Not just once, either. Again and again. Different times of day. Different weathers. Nine separate visits during the sixteen-day exhibit.
Many of you have asked about my posts and have wondered what I’ve been up to these days. The answer is I am happy, healthy and engaged in creative activity, and thinking of you more often than you know.
Once you’re satisfied, you don’t even have to frame it. Your final coat of beeswax protects it essentially forever. Like a soul recognizing an insight.
SunsetGrasses, photo & all text © Irene O’Garden The sun is setting on the growing time of year and the time of inward turning arises. Yesterday John and I squeaked in the very last moments of winter preparation before today’s …
Long talks with family, friends and colleagues; many classes full of eager and rambunctious third-grade poets—my purse of words is all but spent this week, and I have scarce enough to caption shadows. And yet I have enough.
I remember so many people with special love on Veteran’s Day: my father Don, my father-in-law Len, my brother Dan, Uncle Johnny and the countless others who offered the gift of their service. Today I want to introduce you to Eleanor
I often fiddle a bit with my photos—not much, but subtly increasing contrast or emphasizing a hue here or there to intensify what I perceive as their emotional impact. Not so with the photo above.
In the midst of an errand-studded, socially-whirly, travel-mottled fortnight, and in lieu of lamely listing said dance card, I share an image that brings me peace, and the few words which occurred.
Among my sales that day, two, in particular, gave me pause. The first was a beaming woman, who bought a copy of “Maybe My Baby” to add to a large basket of books she carried.
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