The Kawamura Museum of Art, with Children

The Kawamura Museum of Art, with Children


1. An Introduction to Chagall

That fish is not a fish but a crayon
the artist designed for drawing rainbows,
and the whole thing is a candy bar.

Except the marzipan goats of course,
and the King in the corner cut from icing. 
If we stuck straws in this nocturnal background

we could suck the juice out of the canvas,
blow bubbles through the petals of floating
bouquets, ruffle the feathers of flying poultry.

Maybe stir the flames of this candelabra,
illuminate the face of the hidden painter
crouched in youth behind his easel.

I'd urge him pack his colours and grab
the other end. We'd pull him from his dream.
You could show him the cracks

where the black has been lifted,
point to the ledge of the sun where a child
paints the world with rainbows, rainbows.



2. Rembrandt's Man in a Broad-Brimmed Hat 

I'm less impressed with the hat
than the beard. Such fine strokes

you must enjoy in your stone walled chamber 
where intricate shadows cast by candlelight 

reveal as much as they conceal. I envy 
the frills that dance with your bristles,

leaning this way and that with each turn
of your head, bowing like servants as you glare,

rising like soldiers when you reach for a thought.
Flamboyant hat and matching velvet cape,

warm enough to pink your cheeks, speak
of privilege. You do not bow or rise for others. 

All these textures are but leaves 
of an artichoke— peel away, peel away,

peel away until the eyes glisten,
wet, raw and unflinching, following us

around the room, out the door
all the way home and under our beds.



3. Rothko

Imagine allowing a child to run
around inside a broken human heart.

Broken, that is, in the mechanical sense,
with cogs and cylinders strewn about,

loose wires that trip, screws that snag,
protruding springs that sometimes draw blood. 

What else would a child do in such a room
but gather up the various parts 

and assemble something new. Attach nouns
to abstract shapes, find windows of meaning

where before there were none. When finished
they'd step back to assess their work, grab

the sleeve of any nearby adult, point
and say: "Look. What's this?"

~

Appears in Envoi Issue 160 November 2011