11 October 2017
From Wisdom Sits in Places: Landscape and Language Among the Western Apache by Keith H. Basso
“Knowledge of places is closely linked to knowledge of the self, to grasping one’s position in the larger scheme of things, including one’s own community, and to securing a confident sense of who one is a person.”
“One must acknowledge that local understandings of external realities are fashioned from local cultural materials, and that, knowing little or nothing of the latter, one’s ability to make appropriate sense of “what is” and “what occurs” in another’s environment is bound to be deficient.”
Make art about the knowing or unknowing linked with place, about the wisdom ‘in places.’
21 September 2017
Make art about redefining what home means.
22 September 2017
Make art about building or tearing down fences.
23 September 2017
Make art about the power of repetition.
24 September 2017
Make art about genetic memory.
25 September 2017
Make art about your last encounter with an angel.
26 September 2017
Make art about dissent.
27 September 2017
Make art about healing touch.
28 September 2017
Make art about that neighbor.
29 September 2017
Make art about responding to hate with unity and grace.
30 September 2017
Make art about what’s present in the absence.
1 October 2017
Make art about stepping away.
20 September 2017
My son’s 29th birthday is today. He has, since we met, proven to be one of my best friends, a wise, funny, compassionate, loving child who grew into a wise, funny, compassionate, loving man. He has been and remains one of my greatest teachers.
Make art about your teachers.
All grown up with his mini-me, his nephew Max
12 September 2017
Make art about leaving your comfort zone.
13 September 2017
Make art about what you want to leave behind.
Prompt Love Catch-Up!
6 July 2017
Make art about packing for a trip, what to leave in, what to leave out.
7 July 2017
Make art about arrivals, about arriving.
8 July 2017
Make art about reunion of souls.
9 July 2017
Liminal: occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.
Make art about liminal space.
10 July 2017
Make art about light and dark, about the juxtaposition of light to dark, about how we need one to know the other. (with love to Mesha Maren ❤ )
11 July 2017
Make art about moving past obstacles (with love to Rahul Mehta ❤ )
12 July 2017
Make art about a whisper, or a howl (with love to Kim Dana Kupperman ❤ )
13 July 2017
Make art about relocating in our own bodies (with love to Jon Corcoran ❤ )
14 July 2017
Make art about the amalgamous nature of memory, of how sometimes the amalgam is more true. (With love to Eric Waggoner ❤ )
15 July 2017
Make art about point of view, about deliberately shifting point of view (with love to Rodney Jones ❤ )
16 July 2017
Make art about departures.
17 July 2017
Make art about driving alone, about that silence in the cocoon of the car.
Beautiful work from an amazing literary citizen ❤
Leslie M. Rupracht is the daughter of retired artists/art educators who moved their family each summer from Long Island, NY, to the Rupracht farm upstate, north of Syracuse. Leslie’s creative bent was nurtured early by her mother/muse and father/mentor. After earning a BA in English at The State University of New York at Geneseo, where she also studied journalism, public relations and studio art, Leslie infused her career with diverse right- and left-brained experiences. Her poetry has appeared in The Main Street Rag, Iodine Poetry Journal, Open Cut, THRIFT Poetic Arts Journal, and Kakalak Anthology of Carolina Poets (all editions); her prose is published in moonShine review, corporate and non-profit newsletters and magazines. Leslie is senior associate editor of Iodine Poetry Journal. Calling Charlotte, NC, home since 1997, Leslie enjoys life and laughter with husband/favorite architect, Will Weaver, and rescue mutt, Magnum.
Buy Splintered Memories from Main Street Rag
Praise for Splintered Memories
What a wonderfully honest portrait of an uncertain life. A woman in constant transition, painfully aware of her own aging, her own flaws, handwriting gone from calligraphic to indecipherable, vanity to humility, reason to compulsion, identity to doubt. This poetic narrative of a daughter’s relationship with a mother whose illness has deprived her of memory illuminates the impermanence of things, the relativity of reality, the tenuous nature of memory, perception and personality, whether they are fiction, or fact, or something in between.—Scott Owens
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