This is the only reality there is. If you can get it down on paper, in words, notes, or color, so much the better.
Last year I did a small art piece for every day and called it Daily Art Cards. That was a way to get into the habit of creating art even when I didn’t have the energy or was in the right mood to create. Doing that taught me that I’m not as lazy as I tell myself. That I can do grand things in a small scale. And that when I do not have energy creativity fuels me. Creativity is energy to me.
This year I am writing daily poetry.
Writing poetry comes natural to me, I do it intuitively. But what comes out on the page sometimes surprises even me. I play with words as they pop into my head, letting any expectations on a good enough result go. Who cares? That it works, the words I chose, together row after row is like magic to me.
I like my own poetry. I’m enchanted by words. I like the sensation of writing it. I like how it comes together. I like the anticipation as I open the notebook and have no idea what I will write.
I take a deep breath and put my ink pen to the creamy blank page and start writing.
I like that I write quick and sometimes don’t get what it means until later. And reading back a few days I notice that I have (sometimes) already forgotten what I wanted to say; because I write metaphorically. So I have to find new interpretations of my own words. I play with well-known metaphors and hide the real meaning in secret messages, but without planning to do so. It comes out almost finished and I rarely go back and change it, though it happens.
I write positive messages to myself. One poem is like the editors letter (but from me to me), telling me that I am a poet and that I should be proud. It makes me smile. Quite a few poems is about how difficult and challenging it is for me to change. Sometimes I invent new words or use sayings or sentences in a deliberate wrong way. I try to trick the reader, demanding the slow reading phase that all poetry reacquires. Poetry should be read out loud, slowly and with love.
I let the words twirl around.
And the book I’m using is half the joy of this adventure. As I have mentioned before I got this beautiful hand bound blankie from my cousin Charlotta. She bought it in Edinburgh from a shop & gallery place called Owl and Lion! My book has this yummy pink screen printed cover and is the perfect size (is 9,5 x 13,5 centimeter small) for writing a short daily poem! As small as it was, it was the best gift I got, because I’ve been using it daily since January 1st and will continue to use it. When it is filled I might need to go to Edinburgh to get another one…
Before this year I have written poetry in a very different way. I vomited out eight or ten poems in one late night when I was sad, to then go back to not writing poetry for another year. Poetry is very emotional and I guess it “came to me” when I was in the Depressed Writer Mood That Can’t Sleep… Now I can evoke a similar mood by opening this special notebook, and it feels like quite an accomplishment to have found a new road to poetry writing. Many of my poems are melancholic, but I try to see an opening towards the light. In poetry, and everywhere in life.