four canoes
placed there, along the dense shelf of granite
abutting cobalt waters that spit lichen up and out,
scattered to grow crimson
in summer light.
felled like dominoes, each one
lipped upon the next.
ancient vessels forged from modern ore.
a timeline from native to miner; innocence to exploitation.
their stories unknown.
a revelation as opaque as
these Maine waters.
hinting at a history that remains hidden.
perhaps banked here where the waves stir shoal
by teenagers baked honey brown with sun.
alive in that wonderful time of
raspberry scars and grass stains.
their muscles taut with youth.
floating through a fleeting summer shine
that brings the first feel of oar in water.
the tugging tides of a tangible freedom.
and these canoes remain, as empty shells
upon the beach after the molting cycle.
those days now gone, as they’ve shed adolescence
for a paycheck. a mortgage. responsibility.
only aluminum hulls beginning to rust
left as proof to that former life.
to the fact that they were once adrift
before time forced them to anchor.
By: Josh Palmer, inspired by the art of Jen Salamone
Marisa, after bathing
Gooseflesh erupts on curves
of legs.
Tight nodules of skin
amidst the colorless down
that is peculiar to
thighs of women.
Shivering naked in the
lilac glow
of this efficiency bathroom,
I can study her slowly.
Deliberately.
Her topography
of peaks and marshes.
Rivers
which I have seen
on summer days
meander her length from
neck to navel.
Framed against steamed glass,
Bare skin translucent.
Raphael’s Madonna.
Her brush strokes are
the scars,
the soft dimpled cellulite
that collects about the hips.
Angelic imperfections.
Couldn’t she be a
saint?
If only in this moment.
Freshly washed,
dripping water softly
down cathedral pedestals.
Candles and coins
at her feet.
by Josh Palmer
TRAVELLING CIRCUS
the scars
along the bends of his knees were
shining bands of
white.
left by some self-proclaimed
"trainer"
who had used a
wooden rod
to beat back
generations of
instinct.
reaching out to touch him,
i almost
hoped that he
would send me
sprawling
with his massive
trunk.
anything to prove
that he was still
untamed and
variable.
but he merely
lowered
his head.
allowing me to feel
the bristle
of hair up top.
a terrible vacancy
in his eyes,
surrounded by
striations
of neon stage paint.
and i thought
of my
father.
trudging from the house
each morning
in suit and tie
with briefcase clasped,
prepared to smile
as a
boss
critiqued his
work.
by Josh Palmer
At the bottom
Happiness flushed
My words
And it is
Only then would I
by Jen Salamone
Send us an Email!
Want to submit a piece to be featured here at Deconstructing the Muse?
Want to tell us what you think of something you read or saw here?
Just looking for a good chat?
Send us an email: jenandjoshblog@gmail.com
Setting Out on a Blogging Journey
What's this all about?
We wanted to give all of our visitors and readers some insight into what has inspired this project and where we are hoping to take it. If you have any questions or are interested in submitting a piece to be featured here, please send us an email at jenandjoshblog@gmail.com. Thank you!
From Jen:
Greetings! Thank you for visiting this space that Josh and I have begun to create. I met Josh in 2008 when he began working in the cubicle next to mine. We never really spoke to one another until one day we began emailing back and forth over something that we had both seen in the office. A few months passed and we realized that so few face-to-face conversations had taken place between us. We sat less than 10 feet apart, but spoke almost exclusively through email. We were both so intrigued by this social environment that our office had created and were equally delighted by what it had shown us. Josh and I both have an incredible amount of creative energy that has been bottled up over the last few years as we've each joined the corporate world. After some thought and consideration, we began discussing the creation of a project that would allow us to work collaboratively on all different types of art. Several brainstorming sessions later (through email and real-life chats), Deconstructing the Muse was created.
Since beginning this project, we have found that the amount of art we are each producing has increased exponentially. We are constantly hatching new ideas and working out ways to participate mutually in one piece, taking two different approaches to create one final experience for you. We hope to make this a constantly changing and growing community for art and those who wish to participate in its creation.
Thanks again for visiting and please stop by from time to time to see the new things we're working on.
From Josh:
The great thing about Deconstructing the Muse is the dynamic that it was born from. Jen and I are both artists who are forced to engage ourselves in corporate employment to "make a living." The question that seemed to be at the root of this collaborative endeavor was, "Where are the muses in a life spent largely confined to a cubicle? " Where does one find inspiration and beauty in a stark white office environment that, by design, inhibits creativity?
For me, this blog is equal parts realism and escapism. Realism in that it is a space to examine the daily cycles of the life that I am living. Escapism in that it is a place to bring art to life from reservoirs of beauty that are kept inside, and perhaps not experienced on a daily basis. Jen and I want this to be an oasis of art for others who are confined to parameters that are dictated by economy rather than aesthetic. We are also eager for all types of art as submissions. Together we can truly deconstruct the muses of our daily lives.
Please incorporate (pardon the pun) yourself into this site. The concept that has bolstered art through numerous different cultures, from Renaissance to post-modernism, is the collective. My goal is to create a virtual gallery that highlights a variety of media, all of which is united by the theme of art as something that is freely given and freely viewed.
To echo Jen's statement, thank you for taking time to visit this site. We hope that you will return often as both an audience member and a participant.