Tag Archives: visual poetry

Desert Sensibility

Day break at California desert.
Rising sun and the photographer reflections on a car window
A black car parked roadside overlooking ocean.
A silver car parked with mountains, clouds and concrete factory in background.

Stirring, white light, the desert sun of California, the sand beneath the asphalt.
I remember how it shone evenly, on beauty, bizarro, and every wound concealed.

Palm trees in the sun.
Classic buildings of Down Town Los Angeles.
Open Field somewhere along Interstate Five, Central California.
A small church with a lit cross at sunrise.

Photos: 2006-2012. Images from different times, new edits. I am not of Christian faith in case you wonder, but I do like the symbol.

Thinking of you California.

Published on March 22, 2023 at 2:23am JST, unpublished 2 minutes later (I had my moments), re-published at 3:22am. Today is New Moon in Aries at 2:23am JST, also the Astrological New Year, the official start of the Spring.

Ume Sentiment

Ume = Japanese Apricot / Plum. Pictured in photo #1 and #3.

Image of sea shore at sunset layered over Japanese apricot blossoms and hand writing.

“Demure, delicate, their fragrance so faint, their buds mature during the coldest time of the year, petals push open against late winter chill.
Soft yet Strong, they flower to signal the end of the Winter, and quietly retreat as Spring triumphs and flourishes in magnificent varieties of shapes and shades.”

Abstract line drawing of a lily petal layered over hand written letters.
Image of sunset sea horizon layered over Japanese apricot blossoms and hand written letters.

The middle photo is a casual iPhone snap of the piece “Spider Lily Red – Flare 2” I’ve been working on, taken on February 28, 2023 at 16:29. Turned it into monochrome and part soft/off-focused to simulate a hand-held blur using Lightroom phone app, then applied vsco A5 filter, then, taken into Photoshop on computer and layered with a ocean/gull pic and the scribbles I’ve been using for sometime. In short, over processed some. It’s an experiment.

What I think is so wonderful about subtlety is that, it brings out a hunter, a seeker in a person, the opposite of things that explain themselves so loud they put you in a position of a mere consumer. If creativity is about connecting dots in new ways, it then naturally asks you to be the initiator.
Initiate, but not overbear. Intend, yet keep it open-ended. Candid, without making it all about me. I think about all this while remembering the fortunate times when I found myself encased in an elegantly subtle Ume scent cloud*.

Decorative text in the middle:
I have audacity to quote (in fancy font!) my own post from May 2021 called “Subtle. Sincere.”.

References:
Link to all the posts about the project “Spider Lily Red” since 2012.Or,
its creative process in one post: “Process Is The Destination!!”.

*Ume scent travels on breeze, like a cloud, you’d be hit with it even when you are away from the actual Ume tree(s).

Published on March 11, 2023 at 22:06 JST.
Edits:
Added the “*” (no that’s not a face) on March 12, 2023 at 16:13 JST.

Way Finders

Dear Visitor,
Happy New / Bunny Year!!
Wishing you a truly awesome-to-you 2023,
Yuko the webmaster/artist.

A swan making ripples with its beak.

I woke in the middle of the night and seen, in my mind’s eye a flock of swans, would be perfect for the New Year’s greeting card I was designing in my head for a few days. It was like 3am on winter solstice, 2022. When I woke again it was 8 in the morning, opened the window and saw, a flock of swans flying away heading south, just as I imagined.

An art print of a rabbit and a swan with a blank planner.
Wild swans in afternoon light.

Editions:
09Feb23 – additional text about a flock of swans.

Wild swans at sunset.
Let the Wild Be the Wild.

Untitled.

2022: a year in review.

A gardenia blossom with dew drops.
Rain drops bouncing on sea surface.
A Harujion daisy blossom petals in macro capture.
Room decoration with found objects.

“He put his hand in the air and waved at Preston across the dark expanse. It was a crazy kind of wave – done with the whole arm, his hand swinging at the end of it, full of childish exuberance. And as he watched, Preston raised his own arm and waved back.”

Sea shells, sakura blossoms and sea-worn rocks.
Artist's Studio with Spider Lily Bouquet.

Last December. We had 19 more days left in the year. Short walk to the beach I watched a leaf circling in breeze drawing an endless geometric pattern.

“Leaves generate Energy that way.” Suddenly I was not alone. And everything, surrounded, came alive with wings of its own.

The leaf, the movement, the way I felt that day. Stayed with me the whole year. On my mind. In my heart.

A dress with dyed abstract petal by the shore under the moon.
Abstract Line Drawing of a Spider Lily Petal.
A Swan on river In Movement.
Photo of Ume blossoms layered over sea horizon at sunset.

Images above best represent my 2022, photographed mostly this year, a few in recent years, except for one, forth from top back in 2005.
The hand-written letters in the pic are typed out just beneath, from Kem Nunn “Tapping The Source” (1984, p.77, No Exit Press).

Just how, a snapshot of my then apartment from 17yrs ago, and an unforgettable paragraph from a book a friend shoved in my hand saying, “you read this.” in as early as 1984, like pieces of the puzzle finding their places in the picture of my life, years later.

Sixth and eighth, of a piece Spider Lily Red – Flare 2, in process, as of September 2022. Flare 1 is completed.

I took a grande break from posting Journals for a year to focus on other things. (Except for these ones: link to UPDATES page)

Wishing you Very Happy Holidays…

Compiled: December 12-19, 2022.

Dry branches and moon.
2013.01.20 – So Still.

Spring Song Revisited.

Trees in rain.

a snake, a stone,
a silvery glow
a hawk, a thrush,
a thorn in your hand

the tale of the night
the bed of the well
three shadows of blue
a stroke of the sun

a loss, a find,
the dead of the night
a sliver of light
the promise of spring.

Ripples on Sea Surface.

Originally published with color version of the same photos, taken in 2013 (ripples) and 2014 (tree) with a poem “Spring Song” on March 30, 2014. and was removed long since.

Removed due to feeling protective of the poem, which was “birthed” as if without my effort.
Shared part of it in my Digital Zine 1: Own Your Shadow however.

This version was published under “select social posts” on March 30, 2021 and moved to “diary” on December 06, 2021.
You are more than welcome to leave a comment, we used to do that and it was really fun before things online got very centralized….

Text is my “deconstruct – re-structure other people’s poems” series, the victim this time is “Water of March” (again).

Last Edited: December 06, 2021.

Cocoon.

She was a compact two wheel drive in the modest shade of silver.
Previous owner from western Japan left a cigarette burn on the driver’s seat.
Sales man at the lot remarked on my face, said I look rusted like the car’s old engine.
Purchase was made in autumn 2011, the year everything felt like one big defeat.

Thought nothing good would come from this, turned out couldn’t be further from the truth.
Soon there were nights parked on a sand dune, curled up to hear the endless loop of waves.
We’d ride up the hills, into the storm and rest under the trees, wrapped in their unquestionable resiliency.
Most importantly though, she was a shelter with changing sceneries, encased my shedding, the morphing, the reaching for Creativity.

My humble, sturdy sidekick fell silent in the late February 2020.
“Cocoon spat me out” I said, I felt like a cicada freshly out of his, with soft pale green wings that harden overnight.
100 months in my modest silver cocoon, had brought me to where I always dreamt I’d visit.
We took one long ride together, thousands sunsets enclosed us along the way.

A wave on a cloudy beach.
Windshield rain shadows on a journal.
Cloudy sky through a driver seat.
A tree in rain through a windshield.
An abstract drawing in afternoon light.
Night Ocean.
Gardenia blossoms obstructed by leaves.
Artworks in a studio.
A windshield pattern on rainy drive.
Swans against water ripples.
A gardenia bouquet in an artist studio.
A self portrait on a curved mirror.
Textile art work in studio.
A rear view mirror self portrait.
Works in progress in artist studio.
A car parked on a rural road at dusk.

This post is dedicated, an ode to my sidekick, we had parted our ways in early April.
Photos are mostly taken with iPhone, all edited using vsco B5 filter.
All artworks are from the series “Spider Lily Red” (2012 – ).
The second selfie: “one eye” is a happenstance, I am so very much a ‘commoner’.
The sales man did not receive my vendetta; figured him being him would be the punishment enough ;)

Uno Suprema

A flat sea shell on a leaf.
A flat sea shell on a leaf.

Sea shell blocks.
Flat sea shells.

Sea shell blocks.
A sea shell piece on a leaf.

A flat sea shell on a leaf.
A flat sea shell on a leaf.

“It is in the struggle between good and evil that life has its meaning.”

A flat sea shell on a leaf.
Blue mussel sea shells.

Visuals:
Collaborative works with The Artist, who did the photographed pieces, all ocean-worn, collected in recent weeks.
Magnificent time working with You, always.
Quote:
“….and in the hope that goodness can succeed.”
Scott Peck, People of the Lie (p.266-7).

Or Perhaps:

Life is like a waterslide, you jump in with a bang, tossed around with gusto and then spat out, into the splashes catching the summer sun, bursting into laughter like blue sky saying,

“it was really fun, let’s do that again!!”

Lastly:
This post is dedicated to my two special friends, one entered, the other exited in July,
to their unforgettable bang/gusto/laughter now imprinted in my heart where I create, I try to, from.

Individuation is a bitch!! – a postscript.

A Fishing Cormorant with Gardenia.

The wound of the unloved, is that of the human existence. – Peter Schellenbaum

A Fishing Cormorant with an Anklet.

After contemplating and experimenting on various available options (since May 2015), I made the first Zine, in digital format, earlier this month (November 2018).
It is available for purchase here.
Below you find additional info, in a form of postscript / artist statement. I will keep it short, sweet and straight forward.

Format

PDF – viewable on any and all devices.
Aspect ratio – 2:3 (as 35mm films – I felt it is the optimal balance for this issue’s gentle monochromatic look).
Put out independently – ie. outside the ISBN system – like a flower in the field, I’d say (smiles).

In the future I may make available in other formats / ratios, or even with ISBN. But for now, above is the middle ground I decided to place the book on.

That being said…my ears are open to your suggestions and requests, and I appreciate heads ups.

Grey and Grey

All photos were (re)edited in October – November, 2018.
Pure whites / solid blacks were mostly eliminated from the black and white images – they seemed too immutable to me. While editing, I was thinking of soft, understated sheen from graphite pencils, as the suitable range of tones for telling this particular tale.

Large Sized

Both in dimensions (1600 x 2400 pixels) and in file size (nearly 20mb for 20 pages). Images are web-optimized but left in high quality, in hopes they’d carry all the nuances I had woven in in those grains.

The subject matter – the psychological process of individuating – comes with much subtleties. I made a clumsy attempt at including, as much as possible, what cannot be adequately expressed otherwise.

Why this subject?

I made a journal post back in July 2016, with a line “#ownyourshadow, it’s a political act.” Felt strongly about it then, and still do to this day – as I continue to notice a seeming increase in reactivity among us humans, the kind that leaves us (figuratively) beating on each other, making us as a whole, weak.

This book is meant as a gesture, of my sharing hopes and encouragements, for the blossoming of us, the mankind, and the beauty of our individual uniquenesses, when fully owned, would truly unite us.

Are you Individuated?

Years ago I embarked upon an escape route from the state of deep discontent and ended up falling for the process itself.

In other words, I no longer care where I’m at on an individuation scale of 1-10. Try to figure that one out, I discovered thru trials and fails, I’d end up tripping on a type of self consciousness, which acts as an enemy to my creativity.

I only know, and talk about what I experienced. I intend to stick with the stance to the best of my ability.

Lastly.

I dedicate this book to a special friend who left the human plane last July, no doubt to be joined, on the other side, by her “partner in crime” – if courage motivated by love is a crime in this realm, by quoting from a book I found in her storage back in 1994, in Sun Land, California, where I spent a pivotal few, fortunate years immersed in desert sunsets and coyote howls, sensing there is, within myself a seed, I alone could water.

How can I believe there’s a butterfly inside me when all I see is a fuzzy worm? – Trina Paulus “Hope for the Flowers”

A Fishing Cormorant with Sun Flower.

Photos, all from the Zine, from top:
Career Cormorant, a portrait with Gardenia (2018)
Career Cormorant (Anklet) (2018)
Flower. (2018)

P.P.S. I am not a master marketer – in fact I suck at sales pitch. If you happened upon this page and think you know a soul or two who may like this book, please help me out by letting them know it exists.
Your support as such is muchas appreciated.
Thanks!!