Moose represents more than just his physical self. My friend describes the core of every person as their ‘white light’; a pure self that exists underneath the ego. She suggests that Moose engages and expresses these vulnerable aspects of people in a way that disarms the mask we present and I think that is poetic.

Ten objects/artifacts:

Lyric moment:

10 artifacts/objects:

Lyric moment:

Fact - this artwork tells a story

My world is cold

This comic starts lonely 

I have all my animals around me

The artwork's bird is trying to communicate

My neighborhood crows are kawing

This bird makes intense eye contact

My world is slightly drizzly 

There’s no rain in the comic

The neighbourhood animals sound happy

The man in this comic ends happy

But this cold, drizzly day doesn’t make me happy

The comic is black and white

The sky in my world is white too

The illustrator didn’t draw their sky either
My world is cold

Reflection

This practice of ekphrasis was challenging for me because it asked me to jump back and forth between myself and the art work. This almost felt like ekphrasis whiplash! However, this practice made projection and engagement more possible for me to initiate between the artwork and my world.

I hear crumpled paper and unsettled breaths. This sound reminds me of the restless papers that cover my body and wave like flags when I swing open and closed.

I see my person’s studio, it is contained by single-pane windows and cracked drywall, covered with paint and charcoal. The smallest thing I see is a fallen thumbtack that lays on the floor next to the paper it held. The biggest thing I see is a fiddle-leaf fig that stands in the corner, reaching for the window. When close up, I see the bumpy texture of this old building’s popcorn ceiling, the splintered and fibrous wooden flooring, the crumbs of a gum eraser on her drawing desk.

My person just left, slamming me into the doorframe. She was mumbling dissatisfaction with herself thinking nobody could hear. She feels like she is a failure. She feels unworthy of being in our space. She left. She didn’t just leave, she exited like the air in here was toxic; holding her breath, rigid body, and brisk motions.

Last night, I dreamt of her. She’s so beautiful when she works. She was painting the walls into a forest. And I watched her as I always do. She moves to paint me into the forest too. Her eyes scan my body but she doesn’t see me. She sees a canvas. My body is a canvas and I like it.

Outside of this room is not important. It’s cold and broken. Its walls are chipped and the structure of this building is mostly asbestos. I can hear faraway footsteps and car doors slamming beyond my frame of this world.

She will return. She always returns. She will come back and continue whatever she failed to create earlier. When she has her vision, she can’t be released from it until it’s fulfilled.

The weather seeps into our space. Single-pane windows keep nothing out. It’s cold, wet, and gray. There’s mold developing along the windowsill from the chronic rain. As uncomfortable as it seems, this space makes you feel connected to the outside world while still being somewhat protected. 

Secretly, I have always wanted to be the window. 

Reflection 

This practice of ekphrasis made personification a lot more possible for me to exercise because it encouraged me to BE the subject of the painting. I loved what I came up with because it helped me access deeper feelings that were prompted by the painting.