15 May 2019
Make art about fighting back.
15 May 2019
Make art about fighting back.
25 April 2019
Make art about a mythical creature.
18 April 2019
Make art about the oath you swore, the promise you made.
Happy National Poetry Month!!! Let’s get that write on!
Wanta play Poem a Day? Or Flash? Or micromemoir?
Instead of the Daily Prompt Love, I’ve posted 15 Brand New Prompts all together for a Poetry Month celebration! Write whatever you want–poem a day, flash, microessays!
I’ll add 15 more in a couple of weeks to finish out the month’s celebration!
Join us over in the Better Than Black Friday Writing Group on Facebook for some poem a day, or whenever prompted action
Party on, writers!
Geographer Otto Schlüter is credited with having first formally used “cultural landscape” as an academic term in the early 20th century. He defined two forms of landscape: the Urlandschaft (transl. original landscape) or landscape that existed before major human induced changes and the Kulturlandschaft (transl. ‘cultural landscape’) a landscape created by human culture. The major task of geography was to trace the changes in these two landscapes.
It was Carl O. Sauer, a human geographer, who was probably the most influential in promoting and developing the idea of cultural landscapes. Sauer was determined to stress the agency of culture as a force in shaping the visible features of the Earth’s surface in delimited areas. Within his definition, the physical environment retains a central significance, as the medium with and through which human cultures act. His classic definition of a ‘cultural landscape’ reads as follows:
“The cultural landscape is fashioned from a natural landscape by a cultural group. Culture is the agent, the natural area is the medium, the cultural landscape is the result.”
A 2006 academic review of the combined efforts of the World Heritage Committee, multiple specialists around the world, and nations to update and apply the concept of ‘cultural landscapes’, observed and concluded that:
“Although the concept of landscape has been unhooked for some time from its original art associations … there is still a dominant view of landscapes as an inscribed surface, akin to a map or a text, from which cultural meaning and social forms can simply be read.”
Make art about a cultural landscape, on reading cultural meaning in the shaping of land.
27 February 2018
Make art about telling or hearing from someone these so-important words.
28 February 2018
Yesterday I had a talk with my students, one I have with all of my classes at some point in the semester, a reminder that it’s okay to ask for help.
Make art about asking for help.
The lover’s footprint in the sand the ten-year-old kid’s bare feet in the mud picking chili for rich growers, not those seeking cultural or ethnic roots, but those whose roots have been exposed, hacked, dug up and burned and in those roots do animals burrow for warmth; what is broken is blessed, not the knowledge and empty-shelled wisdom paraphrased from textbooks, not the mimicking nor plaques of distinction nor the ribbons and medals but after the privileged carriage has passed the breeze blows traces of wheel ruts away and on the dust will again be the people’s broken footprints. What is broken God blesses, not the perfectly brick-on-brick prison but the shattered wall that announces freedom to the world, proclaims the irascible spirit of the human rebelling against lies, against betrayal, against taking what is not deserved; the human complaint is what God blesses, our impoverished dirt roads filled with cripples, what is broken is baptized, the irreverent disbeliever, the addict’s arm seamed with needle marks is a thread line of a blanket frayed and bare from keeping the man warm. We are all broken ornaments, glinting in our worn-out work gloves, foreclosed homes, ruined marriages, from which shimmer our lives in their deepest truths, blood from the wound, broken ornaments— when we lost our perfection and honored our imperfect sentiments, we were blessed. Broken are the ghettos, barrios, trailer parks where gangs duel to death, yet through the wretchedness a woman of sixty comes riding her rusty bicycle, we embrace we bury in our hearts, broken ornaments, accused, hunted, finding solace and refuge we work, we worry, we love but always with compassion reflecting our blessings— in our brokenness thrives life, thrives light, thrives the essence of our strength, each of us a warm fragment, broken off from the greater ornament of the unseen, then rejoined as dust, to all this is.