Claude Monet (French, 1840–1926). Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies, 1899. Oil on canvas; 36 1/2 x 29 in. (92.7 x 73.7 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, H. O. Havemeyer Collection, Bequest of Mrs. H. O. Havemeyer, 1929 (29.100.113)
«I wrote the poems featured in this post while visiting the Met over the course of the past six months. The key to writing about these artworks was having a connection to them over time. Sitting in a gallery for about fifteen minutes each visit, I first looked at all the artworks in the space, and then zeroed in on one that drew my attention. I then jotted down notes, and made quick sketches with a pink sharpie in my moleskin journal. During subsequent visits, I wrote rough drafts, and then edited them into polished pieces.»
For me, the rhythm of returning to the same galleries is like visiting a friend. I find comfort in the familiar, but the excitement lies in discovering something new every time I visit. There is something tactile about the process of observation. Viewing the small dog kennel, or niche de chien, within The Wrightsman Galleries for French Decorative Arts sparked my imagination, and I noticed that Monet's brushstrokes in Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies are not as visible online as in person.
I hope my poems inspire you to see something unexpected in these artworks and come visit them in person.
The Other Side
Painting plein air requires
capturing splinters of light
piercing stagnant water under
the small wooden bridge.
Yet lily pads,
shifting in sluice
reeking of spent chrysanthemums,
strike as flint scratched to stone
the preferable site.
Easel legs pressed into velvet mud
amid bamboo stalks, mauve asters
allows turpentine swirls
from a brush
to catch lilies on ropey stems.
Drenched blue hydrangea,
emerald colored water lilies
nudge satisfaction, tickle confidence
to step confidently to the other side
of the small wooden bridge.
Jacob van Ruisdael (Dutch, 1628/29–1682). Wheat Fields, ca. 1670. Oil on canvas; 39 3/8 x 51 1/4 in. (100 x 130.2 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bequest of Benjamin Altman, 1913 (14.40.623)
Where I Stand
Standing beneath clouds
filling more than half the sky
leaves no room
for clouds to go unnoticed.
Topping the landscape
where no mountain rises,
green quilt tucked tight
to polder's edges,
the shapes from above
do not allow getting lost
in a forest
or in one's thoughts.
Everything,
even your own heart
is laid bare,
wide open
to cold rain,
ripe sun,
fierce wind.
Claude I Sené (1724–1792, master 1743). Dog kennel, ca. 1775–80. French. Gilded beech and pine; silk and velvet; H. 30 3/4 x W. 21 1/2 x D. 21 1/2 in. (78.1 x 54.6 x 54.6 cm); H. of opening: 11 3/4 in. (29.8 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Wrightsman, 1971 (1971.206.18)
In There
On four stout legs
holding up a
woolly belly
and a
bent tail
I thought I saw
in the corner
of the kennel
you watching me
with eyes
glassy peewee
marbles
swiveling behind
polished wood
sky blue silk
flecked with
slub.
Your soft nose
moist
like the inside of a
knitted mitten
nuzzles through
the open square
sniffing my
outstretched palm
in hello.