Tower Series

The series, Towers, is composed of nine paintings of different tower structures. The inspiration for the series began with the artist’s compelling encounter with the reconstructed Angola guard tower at the National Museum of African American History and Culture. That encounter started the exploration of other archetypal structures built from a human need to access an extreme capacity of something that would otherwise be unattainable, for better or worse.

The towers that are the subjects of the paintings became a trigger for the abstract representations as well as the body of poems paired with each painting. Each tower was documented on site by the artist through photographs. The photographs were then used to develop the paintings. The type of tower inspired the poem that speaks to the subject of the tower, not necessarily to the painting itself. For example, the prose for Water Tower speaks of life and death through the symbols of water. *Poems are not on mobile view

Marble Plinth

You are contrary, a weedy intrusion.

I will blame you and

pull you with hand as cold as bone.

I will lock my heart with

the ways of my Father.

The waving flag and hoisted cross

build a wall of untouchable pride-

mounted on marble plinth.

I will clinch my heart with

the woes of my Mother.

The uniform fits me well, sharp,

buttoned and pinned with honor.

You are the stain, the discomfort.

I will grip my heart with

the ice that is my own.

Guard Tower, 2020, 30" x24", oil on panel, $1,800

Hormesis

Tufts of lint and forest duff,

brittle twigs and a whispered spark,

the bellows of a long, strong breath,

tending a flame to fever-pitch.

Floating forms and pulsing colors

pierce the depths of a keen dark night.

There is the benevolence-

a gift so eagerly acquired.

And so easily the violence

torches the lush forest floor.

Fire Tower, 2020, 30" x24", oil on panel, SOLD

Observation Tower, 2021, 30" x24", oil on panel, $1,800

The Nest

It’s Fall and the sweetbriar

has long since released her

leaves and hips to wind and rain.

Walking by on repeated path,

I see, far within the brambled brace,

an architecture of twig domain!

A brutal stack unlike the soft weft

of woven refuge around my yard.

A prize to seize for my collection!

But it’s far beyond my reach-

walking by on repeated path,

with every pass at great vexation.

And then, perhaps at slower pace,

for eyes and hands that now care less-

Another? Out front and close to hand!

Walking by on repeated path-

Peering at my sightlessness.

Two more? And now I understand.

Resurrection

From Mother’s mound Life begins,

Fontanelle pulsing with blood and breath.

Earth’s survival forged by fire,

Embracing the reality of all this is.

From Lazuline deep Death begins,

Vision shimmered with sinking weight.

Floating down with soft caresses,

Enfolded within eternal Light.

Water Tower, 2021, 30" x24", oil on panel, $1,800

Cell Tower, 2021, 30" x24", oil on panel, $1,800

Silence

A snapped brittle icicle

could not be more

frigid than your air

when I’ve asked selfishly,

pushed soundly,

needed lavishly,

and provoked greatly.

A stoked fiery ember

could not be more ardent

than your mien

when I’ve revealed from within,

enclosed roundly,

bared boldly,

and opened widely.

Yet we are here-

where we’ve always been,

no attachments, no borders,

just here, just now-

exchanging the silence of

knowing the words.

At Hand

Up into the sky I flew

to inhale the breath of God.

The depth of ocean floor I swam

to drink the salt of all there is.

A soaring tower I then climbed

to pierce the dome of Heaven.

Upon the Earth I spread myself

And flung the dust of all I found.

My search was brought to mindful rest

and deep within a seed was sown-

all I sought was there at hand.

Tower of Babel, 2021, 30" x24", oil on panel, SOLD

Lighthouse, 2022, 30" x24", oil on panel, $1,800

Control Tower, 2023, 30" x24", oil on panel, $1,800

Light

How does one see the darkness?

Its heaviness like the depth

of a cave lacking oxygen

pushing one to grope and heave

over edges and fissures for a direction

taken only on faith.

Its absence like the void

of a mind without understanding

leaving one to board and batten

over questions and answers for a direction

taken only in fear.

Its denseness like the snarl

of a rhododendron thicket

entailing one to bend and stoop

over roots and branches for a direction

taken only on trust.

Oh then, darkness is not nothing

when that sweet spot of light appears-

a whisper of breeze from the cave’s gap

a sliver of skyline emerging overhead-

the calmness of clinched fear released.

And then one sees darkness as a vessel of light.

Air Traffic Control

News of death comes in a crash-

of a father, a protector, an anchor-

an anchor lost in circumstance,

of circumstance, out-of-control.

I climb the grand staircase

of my grandparents’ home

to an upper room to shelter my Self.

It’s July in South Georgia.

The fan is rotating back and forth,

spinning into a long dark night.

Out-of-control and spinning,

spinning and out-of -control,

and spinning into a long dark night.

The pieces littered everywhere,

spun into fragments in deep recesses

of my heart, my thoughts, for all time.

Pieces are never restored as before.

Out-of-control and spinning,

spinning and out-of -control,

and spinning into a long dark night.

And then, yet, I accept out-of-control

and find peace beyond the long dark night.

Vespers

Twilight dresses our Mother Earth

in evening gown of scarlet red,

fiery orange and purple pinks-

Mourning for our pale blue dot.

A galactic home of our own,

summons with a forceful call-

Give heed the tolling bell!

We, our own creators be,

ravaged by a deep consumption,

bind our fertile Mother’s arms

and dig her grave in toxic dust.