Issue 9: | August 2021 |
Poem: | 335 words |
1. Amano Kunihiro
—After Two Crows (woodblock art, 1956)1
Maybe the raven’s anxious dance atop a power pole was holy supplication ensconced in ebony down in its broken-glass cawing, the sharpness of its ears and mine as we listened and heard nothing but frustration clear as sunlight, penetrating and anchored as pin feathers, outlined in a beak and pair of hopping feet on weathered determination or pine— haunting the ghost of a tree— pining, if you want a pun. The two had been together yesterday at twilight, perched on the same pole, heads angled and almost touching, gentle in a black cathedral arch— a form that changes stonework into a divine petition— a softening of intent and something akin to flight.
2. A.W. Wijkniet
—After Untitled (woodblock art, circa 1930)2
A raven stands on and eyes a thin shaft of wood. Head down whether to inspect its grain or the bird pecking at its reservations is unclear. Everything flows into black— dawn and dusk between feathers, a leaf’s stretch and yellowing, air’s warmth or chill beneath wings— everything a pair of black marbles rolls around, in bulk and circumference, the whole accumulation. A perch becomes perhaps the one place solid and determinate.
—After Raven (woodblock print)3
Is the bird looking upward? Back toward itself? Or something distant—a dust mote, a seed or stone? Or maybe it is the sky after all—a drop of revelation or rain? Corrugated pine bark, dark and furrowed in heavy lines is also a question, flat and overwhelming—log somersaulting airborne for what raven or anyone perched, wings folded tight against impact in a darkish sheen, might know or guess—a log thick as an act of God. And who for the sake of green needles and pine scent could tell, looking into clear air or cloud, how hard or firmly in place, rooted, a bird or tree could remain standing in place. The raven looks somewhere. Which direction remains indeterminate.
Publisher’s Notes:
Links below were retrieved on 28 July 2021.
1. Amano Kunihiro (aka Kunihiro Amano), contemporary sōsaku-hanga
(creative prints) artist, was born in 1929 in Hirosaki, Japan. Additional bio details
may be found at:
https://www.artelino.com/artists/amano-kunihiro.asp
See also
Winter (Fuyu) (color woodblock, 1957), and ten other
Amano prints at The Art Institute of Chicago:
https://www.artic.edu/collection?artist_ids=Amano%20Kunihiro
2. Untitled image of a woodcut by Dutch artist A.W. (Albertus Willem) Wijkniet
(1894–1973) may be viewed at Affordable Artwork (Facebook, 15 October 2020).
Additional details about this woodcut are available at: Antiques Boutique
3. Image of woodblock print by Andrew Waddington was found at
Ainscough
Contemporary Art and appears here with his permission.
A few of Waddington’s artworks are featured at his website,
https://www.andrewwaddington.co.uk/, and hundreds more may be
found on Instagram.
established his print studio on a farm near Rose, Cornwall [England, UK] in 1988, then known as The Hendra Press, and the editions of woodcuts were printed on a hundred-year-old Harrild and Sons book press. In 1992, The Hendra Press became St. Indract Press, to reflect its new home above the Tamar valley on the Devon/Cornwall border.
The Harrild book press has been replaced by a Norup Relief Press and the editioning of prints has improved since the early days of the studio, but the spirit of the early woodcuts continues in the free-flowing cutting of the woodblocks which capture the liveliness of the animals and birds depicted. The woodcuts are printed on fine handmade Japanese papers with a border large enough to mount or “float” the print. [Source: Ainscough Contemporary Art, https://www.acag.co.uk/andrew-waddington-biography/ ]
Artist’s website: https://www.andrewwaddington.co.uk/
is a Los Angeles-based writer and photographer with an MFA from California State University, Long Beach. His work has appeared in San Pedro Poetry Review, Synkroniciti, West Texas Literary Review, Gleam: Journal of the Cadralor, MacQueen’s Quinterly, and other publications. His second poetry chapbook, Beneath a Glazed Shimmer, won the 2019 Clockwise Chapbook Prize and was published in February 2021 by Tebor Bach.
⚡ Lawful and Proper, poem by Jonathan Yungkans in Rise Up Review (Fall 2020)
⚡ Cadralor in the Key of F-Sharp as It Cuts into My Spine in the inaugural issue of Gleam (Fall 2020)
⚡ I’d Love to Cook Like Hannibal Lecter [video], read by the poet at an event sponsored by Moon Tide Press (10 October 2019) celebrating the anthology Dark Ink: A Poetry Anthology Inspired by Horror
⚡ Saving the Patient, poem in The Voices Project (18 January 2018)
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