(inspired by viewing the online collection at Spain’s Reina Sofia Museum)
Can voice and sculpture now combine as one?
Do line and colour overlap, return,
and show the intimate within the grand?
How many forms derive from this one hand?
When she is quite alone within her mind,
what spread or narrowing, there, will she find?
He places pieces of the urban sprawl
flat onto paper, adds a tiny scrawl
in one deft corner, and behold, a vine
arises, spreads … becomes both art and wine.
The intimacy of the everyday
expands and magnifies and finds a way
to fill a plaster cavern wall to wall.
A tiny keyhole then reveals a soul.
NaPoWriMo 2025, Day Twenty-Six
We were asked to write a sonnet. I have a fondness for the Clarian sonnet, so that's the particular form I chose. The poem doesn't describe specific items in the Museum so much as reflect on the nature of contemporary abstracts and installations in general.