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Home > College of Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences > USM Art Department > ART-RSP-299

ART/RSP 299: Gathering in the Garden: Poetry and Studio Art
 

Welcome to a virtual exhibition of student work from the Summer 2021 class ART/RSP 299: Gathering in the Garden: Poetry and Studio Art.

The class was an introduction to two creative processes--the visual and the literary—in an intensive, week-long exploration with two guides, professors Rebecca Goodale and Lisa Hibl. Poetry and the visual arts have long been inspired by the garden; this course took inspiration from the natural forms, colors, inhabitants, and visitors to gardens. Working independently and together, students developed a control of structural elements within and between the two disciplines sufficient to write, illustrate, design, and collaborate on a final project. Workshops, lectures, and demonstrations comprised the course meetings, and in addition there were visits to public gardens and farms, as well as critiques.

  • Visitors by Lindsey Bosk
  • Admirers of the Garden by Tabitha Burgess
  • Visiting the Garden by Ryan Guptil
  • We, Three by Ginna Majka
  • A Short Stay by Rachel Milne
  • Dandy/Robin/Gardener by Sadie Pressman
  • Three Garden Visitors by Vivien Russe
  • ILJA by Paula Shevenell
  • Floral Beauty by Sophia Squire

All works were photographed by students. Cover image contains a detail from a work by Ryan Guptil.

Printing is not supported at the primary Gallery Thumbnail page. Please first navigate to a specific Image before printing.

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  • Visitors by Lindsey Bosk by Lindsey Bosk

    Visitors by Lindsey Bosk

    Lindsey Bosk

    Visitors

    There is a need within us all,
    just like this garden,
    for water to replenish what is dry and wilted.
    One drop falls from the grey-blue sky onto a leaf.
    Another hits my brow, I smile.
    Like me, the rain does not stay forever,
    we are both visitors here.

    The droplets of water pick up speed,
    as if sensing urgency.
    Thirsty plants lap up water,
    the rain is welcome.

    Unlike the rain, I serve no purpose.
    I quench no one’s thirst.
    Nonetheless, I sit in the center of it all,
    as If I matter most.

  • Admirers of the Garden by Tabitha Burgess by Tabitha Burgess

    Admirers of the Garden by Tabitha Burgess

    Tabitha Burgess

    Admirers of the Garden

    I fly in as the sun rises
    Fluttering to the beaming light
    Of golden and red velvety petals
    I touch down on the layers of the lilies
    Admiring their similar colors
    Breaking my concentration
    A chirping sound in the distance

    I feel the wind beneath my wings
    As I fly to an area I’m familiar with
    I land on the nearby fence post
    My black and white feathers
    Illuminated by sunlight
    I look down at the nearby botany
    The rows of greens growing from the soil
    I seek out my next destination and take flight
    As a shadow takes my light

    I walk down the path as I do every time
    I leave for a new adventure
    I see a small chickadee fly off towards the trees
    Walking over to the daylilies
    Growing up to the top of the small fence
    I feel lost in their presence
    Until the bright colored monarch
    Catches my attention

  • Visiting the Garden by Ryan Guptil by Ryan Guptil

    Visiting the Garden by Ryan Guptil

    Ryan Guptil

    Visiting the Garden

    Winter is gone
    The sun is out

    I open right up
    I come right out.

    My bright red complexion
    My powerful aroma

    Creatures come to see me,
    Without a doubt.

    They know my smell
    They know my name

    They know what I am
    Not ever a doubt.

    Every year I am the same,
    But they always change.

    Till next year my friends
    Please stay the same.

    I feel you looking
    I never move, always still
    Frozen like a rock.

    I am as bright as a flame
    And catch the shining sun.

    You’re drawn to me
    Like a moth is to a light.

    I can be a slew of colors,
    But my stem is always green.

    My stem is short
    With my added itsy-bitsy leaves
    But my flower is mighty.

    I will shine bright
    As long as you gaze.

  • We, Three by Ginny Majka by Ginny Majka

    We, Three by Ginny Majka

    Ginny Majka

    We, Three

    I am the soil, the mountains and oceans of life.
    Mycellium colonies beneath my surface plunge up
    up, up through the peat and the moss, the decaying leaves. They pray for the rain, the fruit of my earth.
    Plantae nestle in, fragile and comfortable,
    seeds sprout to eagerly gulp rain,
    animalia flourish, consuming what I provide
    only to come home, at the end, to me
    to rejoin my earth;
    we are one
    I am the atmosphere, the sunny clouds and storms producing bounty to those below
    I am the chaos in the lightning
    I am the rainbow after the storm
    Changing fearfully, I’m warmer and drier
    than I’ve ever been before
    connected to the ocean, cycling with the wind flying with magnificent wings; most organic some metallic
    I love the magic of what lies below The planet loves me - needs me Yet lately, I don’t know
    I may feel neglected
    I am gliding with my own two feet over fresh, pungent soil packed down on the trail that savors my tracks--
    Carrying my heart in my hand
    Raised in a society who pays no attention
    With blissful ignorance in humankind--
    I turn my back to the destruction
    I savor this land, this sky, this earth
    I breathe in the bold Yellow Cap birthed over a rainy night whistle with twirling ferns nestled in the moss
    smile with the clumsy toad who blends with mother soil, who watches curiously, and asks me, what we are doing to his beautiful home?

  • A Short Stay by Rachel Milne by Rachel Milne

    A Short Stay by Rachel Milne

    Rachel Milne

    A Short Stay

    Gracefully, she leaps over the fence.
    Slowly, she walks through the yard,
    Plucking low-hanging leaves for breakfast.
    She lingers, as she eats
    And suddenly –
    Nails skittering on wood, a rush of air through the grass,
    Her visit is cut short
    She sends herself back into the woods
    Just as the dog reaches the top of the hill

    Their nest may be elsewhere,
    But the pair frequently visit this place.
    His little, crimson body darts over the yard,
    Her subtle, tawny feathers hide away in a tree.
    A constant in the garden,
    They are a pleasant sight to those in the home

    This one does not visit as often
    It has so many gardens to see
    But this one is nice for a rest.
    Pausing at as many flowers
    As it can along the way,
    Before flitting away to grace another garden

  • Dandy/Robin/Gardener by Sadie Pressman by Sadie Pressman

    Dandy/Robin/Gardener by Sadie Pressman

    Sadie Pressman

    Dandy

    I’ll be so direct by saying, if I may, that here is simply, absolutely, the best place to be. Here,
    where the rolling hill plunges towards the ocean. Here, where the sight of the Bavarian blue sky
    makes my insides feel endless. Here, where, watching as I so often do, as the white cotton
    shape-shifts before my eyes, summer-time in suspense. The sun’s rays suspend from the sky,
    dangling like the hands of time. They caress me. A pocket watch in the sky, the sky's the best
    accessory. Here, where I am more popular than I could ever have once imagined. Here, I am
    special; the first food of the season available for the bees, the robins stop by and peck at me
    searching for seeds, the children don’t disregard me, in fact they are gay and giddy, giggling
    while they pluck me from my roots to make a bouquet, a bouquet of wild things. Here I can be,
    simply serene, no more of an eye sore than the scorched grass.

    Robin

    Where do I start to make the point that I’ll be making?
    The seeds were bountiful,
    the worms, plenty.
    The fence was just the right height,
    the breeze ruffled me just to my fancy.
    But I digress.
    Perched atop the blockade, though I am not the gatekeeper.
    Leave that job to the cantankerous gardener who fusses over his plot.
    He is doleful in the way he sows his seeds,
    groaning at the sign of things that he decided should not be seen:
    a dandelion in his plot,
    the lazy, fat, orange cat from the quarter 3 blocks away.
    Although I am not the gatekeeper, I contest that which the gardener decides is and isn’t allowed
    within the parameters of diamond shaped wire.
    Anything that is life,
    or that therefore contributes to it,
    should be, without question, allowed.
    A garden after all, is where one goes to grow.


    Gardener

    I go to sow
    and someday I will reap
    that which I grow
    Not so unique is my garden plot from the rest
    we are indeed, not very different from one another
    raised beds and turning heads
    I didn’t intend to cultivate for the looks
    but no one is looking at me
    not anymore than they look at a dandelion
    I had a dream last night
    the robin in the garden was talking to me
    singing for me
    I sat for a while on the splintery wood chips that surrounded my plot
    I listened closely
    as I had promised myself to do
    looking for nuance in the bird’s song
    wordsless, but not without understanding
    together we understood
    or so I thought.

  • Three Garden Visitors by Vivien Russe by VIvien Russe

    Three Garden Visitors by Vivien Russe

    VIvien Russe

    Three Garden Visitors

    Beside a cup of tea, I am a spotted leopard on pajamas.
    Outside in the garden, this early summer morning,
    Staying sly, quiet, not wanting to draw any attention from the neighbors.

    A birdie is hidden in the Emerald Green Arborvitae,
    After lunch, Owen comes over, asking politely if he can come into the yard to find it.
    I reply, “Certainly, you can retrieve anything that lands in the yard without asking”.

    Coming unannounced, no matter when, full of presumption
    It comes with the lightest, gentle touch or the hardest hit, knocking flowers off center.
    Below the fine roots rejoice or weep.

  • ILJA by Paula Shevenell by Paula Shevenell

    ILJA by Paula Shevenell

    Paula Shevenell

    ILJA

    I remember you
    sitting in the woods,
    Gathering in the children
    Gathering in the
    sights and sounds.
    You’re expression
    warm, kind patient
    as the children crawl over you.

    I remember
    Sitting on this rock
    breathing in the scent of the woods
    Trying to bring in
    the calm I see in you
    Amid the chaos
    Of children befriending you
    Of parents attempting
    To capture the moment
    With their devices
    Of plastic, wires and glass.

  • Floral Beauty by Sophia Squire by Sophia Squire

    Floral Beauty by Sophia Squire

    Sophia Squire

    Floral Beauty

    An appreciation for chrysanthemum
    Took bloom within her soul during
    Her early years of life and began
    To flourish as time went on

    Passing slowly, the years whisked
    By and things would grow all around
    Her as her hair drifted down past
    Her slim shoulders – long brown

    “I wish to grow my roots, soon,
    In one place where I can stay
    Becoming stronger within myself
    Until it is time for me to wither away

    I’ll make this body a lovely space
    For my spirit of flora to grow and
    Thrive, with windows all around to
    Let sunshine onto my petals every day”

    The flower child’s fiancée watched her
    Petals turn in during the night times as
    She grew towards light in the daytimes -
    A spirit always reaching towards warmth

    He liked the way she’d turn to him
    As if he were the source of light himself
    It felt very special to be the source of
    Someone’s deepest endearments

    “How can a flower love me more than
    Anything else?” He wondered inwardly
    “More than the saucer or soil it grows in,
    More than the sunlight and space?”

    “She makes this home her garden”
    He thought to himself while caressing
    Her arms that are as soft as the deep
    Green leaves on her house plants

    “I’m her home” he realized as he
    Drifted sleepily into an afternoon nap
    She has everything she needs
    Including my loving company

    With water in the bottom saucer of
    A begonia, its leaves unfurling –
    Their soil is rich and fervent for
    New stems to shoot out brilliantly

    The two lovers grow together
    Two stalks intertwined
    Leaves curling against each other
    Opening outwards to greet the day

    A quaint young girl and partner
    With such deep love for flora
    That each would oftentimes
    Imagine themselves as one

 
 
 

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