wunderkammer

Obama Art Week: In No Other Country In the World

by Clayton Singleton

Obama Art Week: 9 Different Questions of Politicians

by Elizabeth Terrazas

what: they need
where: anything inside is
why: leader of the pack

 /orator/interviewer/
galnextdoor/muffled & afflicted

where: everywhere means yes
when: were all the seas Adriatic pacifically

engaged specifically

where: inclined centrist forward mingle
met mechanical invention turns
perpetual motion gear


why: in the world do we listen to old soul
songs 

go around

about:\\ tv virulence newspapers tell

how: could i know  you
under your wing beneath 

who: takes a life time did take years

where: anywhere she walks
why: the sand at our feet did burn
when: will now be

now: big - we are sum one day = you'll know

why: atticus is big and strong and should be
he hears   songs in the morning
glances   habits form  and formless

notice: foamers be silent
how: he is modest and he is confident 

somewhere  she hears….

else: how she is herself so polite
--and politeness is 
so rippingly polite


how: attica atticus
atta girl
ain't I good lookin'

who: we are {people} who need
people: I don't need 
what: she said,
"was:" true 
instead: the altar  the census the vote

"the golden means," said Sir Gawain

Obama Art Week: It's A Mess

by Lindsey Kuhn

4 color serigraph on tan paper 

18" x 24" Edition of 51.

Obama Art Week: "Hope Folded"

by Stephen Vincent

Guerrero above 20th Street, east side, San Francisco
July 28, 2009

Obama Art Week: It's Never Been About Me. . .

by Clayton Singleton

Artist Statement: My artwork reflects the inherent strength within us. I believe we are in continual transition whether physically, spiritually, mentally or emotionally. We have physical vehicles housing and moving us such as buildings, cars, planes, and our own bodies…but faith, empowerment, events or circumstances seem to shift our lives in more subtle, sublime and urgent forms.

My artwork reveals these forms and inspires viewers to develop self-abilities while conceding to our incontestable connection with one another. Rearranged visual syntax, drawn words, symbols, and mixed media are inspirations I allow to deliberately bridge the gap between verbal and visual language. Such demeanor allows visual language the same reward as verbal language: an interaction of tangible and abstract experiences all the while expanding its tenure beyond cultural restriction and translation.

I believe we are a reflection and a result of each other regardless of our differences. Our arts should explore, experience, then express life from our own viewpoints; creating until our experience has become our expression.

Obama Art Week: Inventory

by Caroline Goodwin

fact of the first light needling

into the poplar   the window

the book spines and blue-checked

drapes and a surgeon’s hands drifting

over the incision   small

girl who arrived from my body   into

this room   a faint taste of cumin   of faraway

smoke as I imagine taking each finger

between my teeth and biting down

softly   there is an expected white-red flush

and there is nothing to inhale for an illusion

of nostalgia   for noting the borders

that divide my husband’s face   how he appears

to lean right into her   eyeslits crimped

at the new air   at the mockingbird spread-

eagled in the willow   calling out over the country

and way off down the landscape of the abdomen

an open ticking   a smoldering   and behind 

the blue curtain a surgeon beginning to stitch up the wound

published in the 2008 issue of Dogwood,  Fairfield University in Connecticut

Obama Art Week: "We have just begun to repaint the house."

by Stephen Vincent

15th Street above Dolores Street, San Francisco; July 10, 2009.

Obama Art Week: Obama

by Lindsey Kuhn

4 color serigraph

2008

18" x 24" Edition of 99.

Obama Art Week: Things you concede on November 4th in Grant Park in Chicago when you and the world witness Barack Obama win the 2008 presidential election

by Erin Teegarden

10.) Though you are naturally inclined toward the secular, you can’t ignore a certain God in the Chicago weather this night --  you are wearing a light sweater and hoodie; you are able to sit comfortably outside, very close to Lake Michigan, with (like the song says)-- no wind, no rain, or winter’s cold. You can’t help but think the evening’s fair climate has been divinely orchestrated for good news.

9.) Though you have a large personal bubble, and entering this event conjures feelings of oclophobia similar to those you experienced this summer at the Taste of Chicago, when you got sandwiched within the masses trying to access the free Stevie Wonder concert, at least this time you’re only carrying a purse under your arm … this time you’re not posed like the Statue of Liberty, holding a giant ear of corn above your head, above everyone’s heads, while being thrust toward the stage. This time there’s no butter streaming down your arms at least, and you’re willing to concede some personal space for the sake of witnessing this history.

8.)  Though you acknowledge what Krista said, what Josh said, what Gwynne said, what your mother said about the potential for disaster, bombs, fights, riots, snipers, at a gathering like this -- and though you don’t really think the security people have checked your bag beyond a passing glance, you concede to your stronger sense of courage, you will not let your fear let you miss this moment for any idle threat -- your sense of bravery is bolstered by Barack Obama’s bravery and you must admit you realize rationally that you’re all going to get out of this peacefully, happily, alive.

Obama Art Week: Change Is My Savings Plan

by Valyntina Grenier

Rivals make haste I hear. Give good

honest soldier, belief is an apparition.

Come sit down awhile, westward, beating one–

Peace, speak to it with wonder. It would be spoken to

and will not answer fantasy.

Sensible and true, king to thyself

ambitious on the ice  twice— now jump

this dead martial watch.  In my opinion,

our state toils the subject, the land,

brazen for implements of war—

whose sore task divides the laborer 

the day. The whisper goes as you know

to combat.  Our known world as a sealed

compact, ratified by law— life, lands,

seized against inheritance.  Now,

mettle hot and full in skirts, list lawless: food,

enterprise, our state.  Strong hand take it

the main motive/ the source/ the chief head—

comes armed. The question of these wars,

the mind’s eye in little graves, the sheeted dead

as stars, trains of fire, disaster, the sun.

Influence stands sick to doomsday. Eclipse—

fear,  fates, omen. Earth, blast me! 

The cock crows.  Stay and speak.  Don’t strike. 

Stand. Tis’ here— We do wrong!  Violence as air.  

Malicious mockery started a guilty thing.  Trumpet— 

lofty, shrill-sounding. Sea or fire earth or air extravagant and erring—

confine this sent object. Wholesome-power, gracious-time,

 

walk our watch tonight, celebrate dawning all nightlong.

Needful Loves, our duty?  Let’s run every sense.