Jane Blanchard
Lavinia Fontana
of Bologna and Roma (1552-1614)
She learned the rudiments of art from her
own father, then moved out and on—to paint
the who's and what's in scenes and styles which were
appropriate for clients. Some constraint
of time, if not of talent, surely came
with marriage and maternity, but still
she went to work. Her husband did the same—
by managing their home, no less—until
his wife required assistance filling in
the canvases with draperies or such,
those elements too seldom noted when
commissions—done!—were paid and praised so much.
If only she had signed each with a scrawl,
none would be misattributed at all.
Mid-June
Saint Simon's Island
This time of year the sun comes up due east—
a hot-pink ball emerging from the beach,
where tourists gather, cameras ready for
the show, as islanders maintain routines
of walking dogs or running by themselves.
The rest of the horizon turns pastel—
the palette changing as the mighty orb
appears—its color captured only by
the lenses of the naked eyes that dare
to gaze or glance at surreality.
Thimble
lately of Monopoly
I never thought that I would be retired!
It really is the same as being fired,
Summarily dismissed. But not for cause.
No Hasbro boss has mentioned any flaws
In my appearance or performance, just
The notion that I now belong in dust.
Why? Insufficient popularity
With those who matter monetarily.
Some move! How can a mere millennial
Appreciate my near centennial
Of service marking landings on a board?
That worthless online vote should be ignored!
I have helped players by the billions in
And out of Jail and soon past Go again,
Two hundred dollars gained each time, saved for
The chance to purchase one, then many more
Assorted color-coded properties,
Utilities, or railroads, as they please.
This is, or was, my life and all I know.
If only I had ever learned to sew!
It is unlikely that my dimpled self
Will rust within a bin upon a shelf.
Exactly what am I supposed to do?
I need a game plan. Maybe I should sue.
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| Megan Marlatt:Looking like large puppet heads, it was "anima", the root of "animation", that led me to the making of the big heads, (or "capgrossos" as they are called in Catalonia where I learned the craft.) Anima is the soul or what breathes life into a being and to animate an inanimate object, an artist must insert a little soul into it. However to bring attention to what is invisible, (the soul), I chose to mold its opposite in solid form: the persona, the ego, the big head, the mask. Nearly every culture across the globe has masks. They allow performers to climb into the skin of another being and witness the other's world from behind their eyes. While doing so, the mask erases all clues of the performer's age, gender, species or race. In this regard, I find them to be the most transformative and empathic of all human artifacts.
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