Fragments are essential to my poetry and my art. I ofttimes partner poems with collages. Thoughts taken from my poem, Collage, delineate the mystery:
I gather dabs of life-stuff around me. They come in a drift,
or singly like snowflakes. Moments fall in my ears; their music, sometimes discordant, although mostly remembered as harmony.
I trim each chance to one-inch squares, line them up on my canvas, seal them—
a portrait of self. My family admires my effort, or mocks it—
this impulse to control past and present. Yet, I persist. Translate half—
or twice as much—of every emotion into these small paper pieces.
Bright hues—purple, hot pink, mango, bitter green, azure—tangle in my hair, in my art, blind my other eye. I edit images into these fragments, rearrange, attempt to appreciate
this life, this urge. Ampersands, seashells, bird nest, rocking chair, moose, spiral, moon. And words: The heart is the hub. Go there. Roam in it. I am.
So. Look at me now. A scrap-monger in a world of dots and words,
confetti of my life a swirl ’round my head, while the unremembered fall away—
fall upon my bare feet which tap and twirl without notice.
gaye gambell-peterson (website) never tires of piling words on a page or sticking bits of stuff onto a canvas. Frequent recognition in both the art and poetry worlds only encourages her. Two chapbooks feature her poetry and her collages: pale leaf floating (Cherry Pie Press) and MYnd mAp (Agog Press). She likes sticky mac’n’cheese.