Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read an excerpt from Why I Am Not A Painter by Frank O’Hara, posted below. 

Our prompt was: “Write or draw about orange.”

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday April 15th at 12pm EDT,  with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

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Why I Am Not A Painter by Frank O’Hara

I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,

for instance, Mike Goldberg
is starting a painting. I drop in.
“Sit down and have a drink” he
says. I drink; we drink. I look
up. “You have SARDINES in it.”
“Yes, it needed something there.”
“Oh.” I go and the days go by
and I drop in again. The painting
is going on, and I go, and the days
go by. I drop in. The painting is
finished. “Where’s SARDINES?”
All that’s left is just
letters, “It was too much,” Mike says.

But me? One day I am thinking of
a color: orange. I write a line
about orange. Pretty soon it is a
whole page of words, not lines.
Then another page. There should be
so much more, not of orange, of
words, of how terrible orange is
and life. Days go by. It is even in
prose, I am a real poet. My poem
is finished and I haven’t mentioned
orange yet. It’s twelve poems, I call
it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery
I see Mike’s painting, called SARDINES.

Copyright © 2008 by Maureen Granville-Smith

See prompt drawing responses from our session below!

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Thank you for joining us for this session and celebrating the two-year anniversary of our Virtual Group Sessions!

For this session we read an excerpt from Gate A-4 by Naomi Shihab Nye, posted below. 

Our prompt was: “Write about something that can still happen.”

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Monday April 4th at 6pm EDT,  with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

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Gate A-4 by, Naomi Shihab Nye

Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning
my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement:
"If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please
come to the gate immediately."

Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.

An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just
like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. "Help,"
said the flight agent. "Talk to her. What is her problem? We
told her the flight was going to be late and she did this."

I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly.
"Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-
se-wee?" The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly
used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled
entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the
next day. I said, "No, we're fine, you'll get there, just later, who is
picking you up? Let's call him."

We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would
stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to
her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just
for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while
in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I
thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know
and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee,
answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool
cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and
nuts—from her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the
lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered
sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.

And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two
little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they
were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—
by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag,
some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradi-
tion. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This
is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that
gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about
any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too.

This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.

Naomi Shihab Nye, “Gate A-4” from Honeybee. Copyright © 2008 by Naomi Shihab Nye

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we took a close look at the painting Untitled 2009, by Kerry James Marshall, posted below.

Our prompt was: “Write about something unfinished”

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Wednesday March 30th 6pm EDT,  with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

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Untitled 2009 by, Kerry James Marshall

Credit: Kerry James Marshall/Jack Shainman Gallery

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we took a close look at the painting Contemplation, 1937/1938 by Mark Rothko, posted below. 

Our prompt was: “Write about what comes from looking out a window.”

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Monday March 28th at 6pm EDT,  with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

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Contemplation, 1937/1938 by Mark Rothko 

© 2022 National Gallery of Art 

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we watched the music video King by Florence and the Machine, posted below. 

Our prompt was: “I am no…”

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday March 25th at 12pm EDT,  with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

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King by Florence and the Machine 
 
We argue in the kitchen about whether to have children
About the world ending and the scale of my ambition
And how much is art really worth
The very thing you’re best at
Is the thing that hurts the most
 
But you need your rotten heart
Your dazzling pain like diamond rings
You need to go to war to find material to sing
I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King
 
I need my golden crown of sorrow
My bloody sword to swing
My empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology
I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King
I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King
 
But a woman is a changeling
Always shifting shape
Just when you think you have it figured out
Something new begins to take
What strange claws are these
Scratching at my skin
I never knew my killer would be coming from within
I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King
I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King
 
I need my golden crown of sorrow
My bloody sword to swing
I need my empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology
Cos I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King
I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King
I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King
I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King
 
And I was never as good
as I always thought I was
But I knew how to dress it up
I was never satisfied, it never let me go
Just dragged me by my hair
and back on with the show