Tuesday, 2 March 2021

Creative Keys Part 2

This is the second session we have focussed on our old upright piano and its impending fate to be transformed into a multitude of artworks. The aim was to describe the piano in detail and then attempt to tell its story.  


LA GONDA    (we'll stop here for a break)

Honeycomb interior peeks out from 

dark varnish, its smooth polish shining

Soft hammers, creamy above the dirty ivory keys 

Strings like a harp, their spine curving, metallic, 

clamped, restrained, restricted by many solid screws

Holes behind the strings let sound cascade,

less like honey oozing, into the sound box


- Kate Jenkins



[75385]

Naked strings exposed to eye

  and dust

Felted hammers waiting

  Promises unfulfilled floating in the air

Your skin, much absent

  otherwise beaten, battered

    abused

Tattooed with identity

  patronym

    and slave trader

Exposed organs

  dusty

But no, not an organ

  no pipes

Just heartstrings taut, quivering in the air

  as you await execution

 

- MJR



END NOTE:  75385

When your screws yield to the electric drill

your nails and glue will give to hammer blow

tinkling ivories will clasp to ebonies, and a

melee of tangling strings knit a new design.

The pressure bar that binds LaGonda strings

will twist and warp;  dissonance new  

and the four, six, twelve large bolts will fall

peeling pin block from warm wood

into cold sound-shimmering air

        don't sit on that stool, 

        its legs will succumb to weight

and metal pedals will walk to another's tune

where octaves run no more


- Kate Jenkins



UNTITLED

Once in a forest

     and a mine or three

          the back of a sheep

               the face of a great beast

 

Gestated by active hands

     in New Castle, Indiana

          in a nation with no true castles

 

And cast out, over the sea

     a servant to strange fingers

          in strange lands

               making strange cacophony

 

Old torments to new torments

Assemblies disassembled

 

Never again to be a forest

     or mine

          or creature

 


But perhaps something

     gestated anew

          by new active hands.

 

- MJR



PIECES POETICO

Fragments of a tune scatter

beneath the tunemaker's resting components

fractured, stretched, aniente-to nothing

disassembled, sognando-dreaming

Timbre, that unique character, resonating now

as light and colour and shape

Turned up words

Design abstracted

Textures once pounded, rest

Work done. Score Al fine, ends


CAMOFLAGE

Hidden rocket launchers

beneath a shield of green

fire with purpose another time

Once these worked their blast

Within the bowls of The Piano

Deep resonance

Ear startling volume

Danger! watch out

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