Poetry Connection: Nature, Art, and Poetry in Santa Barbara

The Poet's Perch, Santa Barbara Botanic Garden

Melinda Palacio, Santa Barbara Poet Laureate

Every year, the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden hosts an open call for “Casitas” to be built in their backcountry, the area of the garden where kids can touch plants and art and have fun. This area is where many summer camps romp and there’s a tire swing and children can learn about nature. Colleen M. Kelly was one of the recipients of the Casitas grant. 

 

For her project, she designed a Poet’s Perch, in homage of cherished Poet Laureate Emerita, Sojourner Kincaid Rolle (1943-2023). The late poet would have celebrated her 81^st birthday on Monday, August 26. Along with Rod Rolle and several of Sojourner’s close friends and colleagues, Colleen M. Kelly unveiled her Poet’s Perch. The art installation consists of a tall, 12-foot, upside-down tree, salvaged from the Botanic Garden with a kite that reads Joy (Sojourner’s given name) and Sojourner’s poem, “Hosanna,” originally published in What Breathes us: Santa Barbara Poets Laureate 2005-2015, Gunpowder Press 2016, wrapped around the top. The art installation includes colored staffs, made of painted tree branches with designs and colors that mimic the bright scarves owned by the poet herself. The space invites poets and children of all ages to find inspiration and creativity.  

 

Rod Rolle was on hand with his camera, documenting the process of the installation and its unveiling. Colleen said they both felt Sojourner’s presence while installing the homage to her. The casita honors both the poet and nature. The Poet’s Perch blends into the backcountry, as if it has always belonged there. The installation will be up for two years. 

 

Colleen M. Kelly chose Sojourner’s “Hosanna” because it’s a poem dedicated to artists, and Kelly likes to think Sojourner had her in mind when she wrote it. Colleen and Sojourner have been friends for decades. Sojourner collaborated with Colleen and wrote ekphrastic poems for her show, “Naked Under Clothes.” Colleen enjoys spending time at the Poet’s Perch and answering questions from people visiting the garden’s backcountry. She often will ask people if they live in Santa Barbara; and if they don’t, she introduces them to Sojourner Kincaid Rolle. 

 

When a family interacted with Poet’s Perch, Colleen felt as if she had done her job. A family stopped by and started reading the entire poem, moving around the tree as the poem is wrapped around it. With lines such as, “a dancer lifts one bare foot mocking the slow/deliberate step of a blue heron: /raising a bare leg in the manner of a Sandhill Crane, lifting a jointed limb like the graceful Snowy Egret, as if we humans could take flight”, the poem invites the reader to participate in the poem. 

 

“I was really pleased to see how a family from Southern California interacted with the installation. A father and son took turns reading Sojourner’s poem while mom enacted what she was hearing. Mom must be a dancer.”

 

At last week’s installation and opening, I had the pleasure of reading an ekphrastic poem I wrote for the exhibit. The poem was inspired by the last days I spent talking to Sojourner while she was in hospice last November. She opened her eyes and said two words to me, ‘Oh My.’ Many people have shared how important the words are of people who are in the process of transitioning or making their final journey on this earth. I recall that Poet Laureate Emerita, Perie Longo told me that I should write a poem based on those two precious words I heard from Sojourner. It wasn’t until Colleen M. Kelly asked for a poem for her Casita project that I sat down to write it. 

 

 

For today’s Poetry Connection Poem, I am sharing the poem I wrote for Poet’s Perch, as well as Sojourner’s poem, Hosanna, originally published in: What Breathes Us: Santa Barbara Poets Laureate 2005-2015, Gunpowder Press 2016. Thank you to Gunpowder Press for Permission to reprint Sojourner’s poem. 

 

Hosanna

By Sojourner Kincaid Rolle 

For the Artists of Santa Barbara

In the quietest of spaces,

On a twig in the hedge;

near a cone at the top

of a Torrey Pine tree;

one chirp begins the sound of day—

the downbeat for a symphony.

 

On a hillside,

high above the morning wave,

Pacific water rushing in and easing out;

a first brush-stroke begins the great unfolding—

the plein air narrative of this moment.

 

Somewhere on the land beneath the rocks

where massive middens of abalone and debris

evidence our ancient places on coastal shores,

a dancer lifts one bare foot mocking the slow

deliberate step of a blue heron;

raising a bare leg in the manner of a Sandhill Crane,

lifting a jointed limb like the graceful Snowy Egret.

as if we humans could take flight. 

 

We poets place words in the mouths of crows;

create a language of our own imaginings.

We imagine song as if sparrows were singing.

We imagine dance as if shore birds could touch the sky.

We view the painter’s renderings as evidence

of our meanderings—our longings made visible.

 

Sending up our praises, our hallelujahs, our hosannas.

We embrace the musicians, the dancers, the painters, the poets, the sculptors, the weavers of thread…. 

We who create hold common cause. 

We honor all that is beautiful.

 

 

 

Ode to Joy

 

          For Sojourner Kincaid Rolle and the Poet’s Perch, art installation by Colleen M. Kelly

By Melinda Palacio, Santa Barbara Poet Laureate

 

Oh my, she said on her deathbed. 

Two words, an epiphany, as if to declare her world 

Of accomplishments flashed before her eyes.

 

Oh my, as if her hardships before Santa Barbara called to her,

Beckoned her to remember a grandmother who shared an 

Appreciation for trees and the word. 

 

With eyes closed you may run to your grandmother

who taught you your first verse in the holy book,

the matriarch who encouraged you to recite. You, 

small child with a loud voice and louder beating heart. 

 

We, us, and all the black poets and gospel singers you claimed,

Are here to claim you. 

 

Oh my, oh my.

As you sit in limbo, you open your eyes for a second and see faces

You have touched in your home in Santa Barbara and beyond to Marion,

Your North Carolina birthplace.

 

As the people’s poet, the city’s Poet Laureate, the town leader, uplifter 

Of connected communities like Olympic rings, bearing peace and unity,

A trained peacemaker, your sunflower face forever turned to light,

Now returns to nature. 

 

Your seeds scatter in letters. Your gracious voice with its Southern lilt

Rings truth. North Carolina dreaming dipped in California Chocolate 

Spells a four-lettered word only you could pronounce P-0-E-M,

Poem. Let your words sail on heavenly wings for this is your hosanna.

 

The beginnings of praise and creativity for you who gave so much. 

May this space, known as the Poet’s Perch, inspire joy in flower and song.

We delight in how you soar higher than a king palm to catch a shooting star.

And like your beloved tortoise, you have won your race.

 

Oh my, you said as you slowly soared above us. 

Oh, my Sojourner. My oh my. 

Oh, Sojourner Kincaid Rolle. 

Oh joy.

*This column was originally published in the Santa Barbara Independent

In Gratitude: A Labor Day Story and a Lesson Learned

                                                                                       

Working Man Blues

     As Labor Day nears, I am reaching into the vault, my own personal time capsule, for an essay I wrote a few years back, about men at work, not in an office or behind a desk, pure muscle, no apologies, no regrets, just men who labored, proud of their work but more proud of supporting their families, so their kids could sit in offices behind desks. 

     I was in my late teens the first time my dad told me this story, trying to teach me a lesson about work, I suppose, or maybe about not quitting. Of course, I’d heard the tale many times over the years, and it’s always stayed with me. In some ways, it’s helped me understand a lot about people, work, and culture, about looking toward the future instead of the past.

     My dad and my uncle, Aurelio, "Ted," for “Tetera,” in Spanish the nipple on a baby’s bottle, but nobody knew exactly why he got stuck with the moniker, were doing a job in the Hollywood Hills, remodeling a home for a well-known movie director, my dad and Ted handling the interior stucco-work, and some other guys finishing up the exterior. 

     It was a modern home, flat, multi-leveled roofs, and large plate glass windows to look out at the L.A. skyline, something along the lines of a Frank Lloyd Wright design, the house and the environment working as one.

     The director, who was living upstairs during the remodel, came downstairs one morning to see the progress. The cement, the undercoat on the walls in the den had already dried. My dad, who carried the hod with stucco, and Ted, who did the plastering, had begun applying the stucco, the smooth surface, to one interior wall. The director, in his robe, his hair mussed, told them the flat stucco had no pizazz. He wanted a surface that would “pop,” something unique, different, but he wasn’t quite sure what.

     My dad and Ted looked at each other. They weren’t designers but plasterers following the blueprints. Most walls they completed had smooth surfaces, ready for the painters’ rollers, where the colors gave the rooms character. The director said he wanted something with texture but not the traditional Mexican texture he’d seen in other homes. He asked if they could show him some samples. Stumped, Ted my dad looked at each other. “What samples? It was either smooth or a slight texture.”

     The director got it. He knew he was asking for something he’d never even seen before. My dad said the job was nearly complete. All they had to do was finish the stucco, get the hell out, and start the next job. A lot of guys would have left. Time was money, but my dad and Ted were interested in what the guy had in mind. They started tossing around ideas. The stucco they’d already applied on the wall was still soft, malleable, so Ted began experimenting, making different designs with the trowel.

     “No, that’s not it,” the director would say after each attempt.

     They were in new territory here.

     My dad and Ted would go outside to the pickup, look around, and return with different trowels, ones used for sidewalks, patios, and exterior walls, trowels with beveled or serrated edges, but whatever they tried, the director would say, “Yeah, better, but that’s still not it.”

     My dad told me, by this time, other plasterers would have gotten frustrated with the guy because most of them were traditional, conservative, and always wanted to do it the old-fashioned way, get in, get out, the way most clients wanted their walls. But the director’s house wasn’t traditional, not colonial, ranch, or English Tudor, more, an experimental structure, on stilts, built into the mountainside.

      For some reason, my uncle had some straw (as in hay), along with a bunch of other junk, in the back of his pickup. He brought in a handful and tossed it up and troweled it into a corner of the wall. “Oh, now that’s interesting. I like that,” said the director, “but no, not quite it.”

     After each attempt, they had to apply fresh stucco to the wall to keep it soft and smooth.

     The thing about my uncle Ted was he approached his work like an artist. He liked the challenge of creating something new instead of the same old thing, especially in a house like this one, that begged for eccentricity, progressive thinking. My dad could, well, let’s say, “take it or leave it.” But one thing he always wanted was to please the client, especially Hollywood types, deep pockets, and good, strong recommendations.

      By this time, Ted and my dad were “into it,” but they were just about out of ideas, when Ted said, “Ray, we got that empty handy-six out there?” My dad nodded, “yes,” in the affirmative. Ted went back to the pickup. My dad said he heard glass breaking. When Ted returned, he was holding a broken beer bottle by the neck, confusing both the director and my dad.

     “Let me try this,” Ted said.

     Gently, and with the care of Diego Rivera, he slowly raked the sharp, irregular edges across the soft stucco, creating circles, ovals, waves, and squares. Softer and grittier than sculptor’s clay, stucco takes skill and patience to manipulate. Too much pressure cuts too deep.

     As the designs emerged from the material, the director’s face brightened. He leaped up and down, “That’s it! That’s it! Marvelous, genius, wonderful!”

     My dad said he went outside and grabbed another empty beer bottle from their handy-six. He broke the bottle on rock and went back inside where he and Ted spent the rest of the afternoon etching designs courtesy of Pabst Blue Ribbon, curiosity, and a little Chicano ingenuity, a Labor Day, and a life's lesson.

Mi Casa Is My Home

Written by Laurenne Sala and illustrated by Zara González Hoang.

Publisher: ‎Candlewick 

Language: English

Hardcover: ‎32 pages

ISBN-10: 1536209430

ISBN-13: 978-1536209433

Reading age: ‎3 - 7 years

Grade level: ‎Preschool - 2

Lucia invites you to visit her bustling casa and meet an intergenerational array of loved ones in a charming Spanglish celebration of family life.

Este es el baño . . . It’s where I shave my barba con Abuelo.

Bienvenidos to Lucía’s home. Lucía lives in her casa with her big, loud, beautiful familia, and she’s going to show you around! From la puerta, where Abuela likes to wave to the neighbors and wait for packages from Puerto Rico or Spain, to la cocina, where Lucía watches her Mamá turn empty pots into soups and arroces, to el patio, where Lucia and her cousins (and her cousin’s cousins!) put on magic shows, Lucía loves her busy and cozy casa. With warmth and joy, author Laurenne Sala and illustrator Zara González Hoang celebrate home in this bilingual picture book that feels like an abrazo from your most favorite people, your familia.

Review

A must-buy. This book is perfect not only for bilingual readers but also for those seeking to connect more with another language.—School Library Journal (starred review)

This sweet family story will be best enjoyed by readers who speak both Spanish and English, as Lucía uses Spanglish, seamlessly moving back and forth between the two languages. The accompanying illustrations have a charming childlike feel that complements Lucía’s cheer and provides visual context for readers who don’t speak Spanish. Lucía’s family members represents the Latinx community’s racial diversity. A warm family account that will ring true with many Latinx children.—Kirkus Reviews

Lucía lives in a yellow house with her large and loving family, and in Sala and Hoang's warm picture book, readers are invited to walk through her cozy home. . . . Sala and Hoang have created a book that celebrates home, family, and togetherness that will leave readers feeling right at home with Lucía.—Booklist

Zara Gonzalez Hoang grew up in a little bungalow in the frozen tundra of Minneapolis. Since it was way too cold to go outside, she was entertained by the colorful stories her parents told and the mountain of art supplies she hoarded. This was very helpful when she decided to draw for a living. She now lives in a quirky mid-century house deep in the suburban woods with her Mad Man husband, human-shaped demons and curly coated corgi in the slightly warmer climate of Northern Virginia. Visit her online at www.zaralikestodraw.com

Laurenne Sala is a storyteller and writer of weird things you may have seen. She believes that the more we write and tell about ourselves, the better we feel.

Building A Poetry Community: Laureates and Leaders

Building A Poetry Community
Michael Sedano

A frustrated Texas poet, on social media, asks "Why is poetry so unpopular?" It might be that poetry is poorly taught and misunderstood, he guesses. The answer is none of the above. Every community is home to numerous poets and writers, but without an outlet to share their work, poets and writers remain silent and some people will perceive a poetry desert and conclude that poetry is unpopular. Clearly, there isn't enough poetry in the frustrated poet's community. 

Altadena, California models how communities across the nation can nurture their local poetry and writing resources and create a thriving "poetry scene" of readings, workshops, and publication. 

Twenty-some years ago, Altadena might have looked like its own poetry desert when the city's librarian, Pauli Dutton, invited poets she knew to share poetry and cookies in the library's community room. Dutton and the Altadena Library sponsored "Poetry and Cookies" readings for a couple of years. This opened a door to a hidden community of poets that encouraged Dutton to motivate the Board of Trustees of the Altadena Library District to sponsor a Poets Laureate program and appoint the city's first Laureate.

The fourth Laureate in the program, Thelma T. Reyna, recruited an advisory committee to grow the program, changing the informality of "poetry and cookies" to The Altadena Poetry Review, whose outgrowth, in 2014, was The Altadena Poetry Review Anthology. 

The book has grown to be a local institution with a mission "to publish poets and writers from Altadena, Pasadena, and LA County. We encourage and uplift submissions from historically underrepresented voices including Black, Indigenous, LGBTQ, people of color, and people of diverse age groups and backgrounds."

Conducting workshops and coordinating readings, along with editing a book of poetry, took on monumental proportions beyond the abilities of a single volunteer poet. In 2018, the Board of Trustees appointed a pair of Laureates, one to coordinate public events, the other to manage and edit the anthology.

Over the years, as the Laureate program's workshops and readings and publications attracted more participants, that hidden community found the light of day and now, annually, Altadena's Poet Laureate program produces a critical mass of work demanding more time, more workshops, more pages. In fact, 2024's Altadena Poetry Review Anthology (link) expanded to 300 plus pages and over a hundred poets from across the country, including a few international contributors.

That's the thing about deserts. They may appear barren landscapes, but give a bit of water and the land explodes with life. Let Altadena be the model for communities and libraries across the nation. Start small, work smart, watch your desert bloom.

Here's a link to Altadena Library's poetry page where you will meet this year's pair of Laureates and explore links to discover details on the program and its history, and read samples of the work that comes out of a fertile landscape that's not unique to this corner of California's San Gabriel Valley.

 

This year's Altadena Poets Laureate, Sehba Sarwar and Lester Graves Lennon, recently assumed their responsibilities. Their inaugural reading featured a lineup of predecessor Laureates. La Bloga-Tuesday is happy to share the event with you.

Nikki Winslow, Altadena Library District Director welcomes an enthusiastic audience to this term's inaugural reading, "A Reading Honoring the History & Poets of the Program."

Sehba Sarwar and Lester Graves Lennon take the lectern in their introduction as the current Altadena Poets Laureate. (link to their bios)

Founder of the program, Pauli Dutton, shares a brief history of the laureateship. "The first year we had 12 poets, photocopies of the readings as a handout, and, of course, luscious cookies. In 2004 we had 15 poets, more cookies, and an attractive compilation of the poems which we printed and catalogued. Thus, was born the first edition of Cookies and Poetry. We made copies available for both checkout and reference so they could be available in the library. In 2005 we took our publication to Altadena printer Miss Dragon for a more polished look.In 2004 we chose our first Poet Laureate, Ralph Lane and decided this would be a bi-yearly unpaid position."

Dutton is followed by special guest poet, Morgan Gaskell, recent graduate of Pasadena High School who will attend UC Davis as a Wildlife, Fish, and Conservation Biology major. 

At its Acme

by Morgan Gaskell

As hundreds of ANTI-LGBTQ+ bills have been been introduced and passed in 36 states in 2024

alone, there is a growing fear among queer youth about our futures. I wrote this poem to

Illustrate these recent attacks and my response to politicians across the nation who have robbed queer youth of their childhood and humanty.

This issue's at its acme, and it's ruining our psyche

Highest rates of nomelessness and suicide in the country

Why can't you just let us thrive in a world so set up against us?

Instead you pass these laws, force us to withstand prejudice

We don't see eye to eye 'cause you refuse to stare us in the face

We reason and plead just to make our case

That a wond with queer youth Is not one of danger

Yet you treat us with ignorance and anger

All your lies, time really flies when nothing's getting done

Another life taken and another one gone

You make it illegal to get care, so for other states we run

Decades of progress now being undone

I think we've had our share of violence and discrimination

Our queer elders have lost their lives for our rights in this nation

You continue to chastise us, battering down on a supposed sin

You polarize the climate of the States, where should I even begin?

When we're out in public out of fear we are anxious

You don't have to understand us, but you have to respect us

We have to exalt our community because no one else will

How are we even arguing about this still?

All these bans recently has other countries asking if we're okay

You keep telling people to pray the gay away

Heartening to hear some states will remain safe

But the number of people you displace?

Will you stare us in the face?

Or continue to look down on us, throw slurs at us, kill us

You've created a wall, so straight up it we will climb

The impacts of your bans are far from benign

Will there be any justice before you decimate queer youth?

Will you listen to the truth?

You're creating massive devastation

Will there be any justice in this nation, any justice in this nation?

Carla Rachel Sameth, with Peter J. Harris, served as 2022-2024 Co-Laureate. Sameth shares a work from her collection, Secondary Inspections (link).

June 2020: Alarm goes off,

by Carla R. Sameth

I clutch my wife, remember 

to breathe, remember 

George Floyd, remember 

Christopher Ballew 

21, assaulted by police 

up the street, in Altadena,

remember the names, 

the deaths. Nonstop.

Fear floods in, room congested.

A poet wrote me a poem 

that says think of your son

when you first wake up

and I do—but terror for

the risk to his soul,

his body, his skin. 

This mom’s heart

tumbles, even with

my wife opening the curtain,

singing me good morning,

good morning, even with 

wild parrots and cascading 

Pasadena birdsong, 

the cat kneading and purring. 

Even then, I cannot calm 

when my wife gets up to leave.

I see three missed calls last night— 

probably just son telling me 

about the latest protest. 

He made me laugh

at the Highland Park march—

Mom, look. that white woman. 

Full Black Panther regalia, 

knee high black boots, 

black coveralls and beret, 

fist raised, standing in front 

of that MLK mural on the wall 

of that hipster coffee shop?

(Would it be her Instagram post?)

The woman, she looked at me, just said, 

Your life matters.

Yes, it does, son, 

and I imagine 

telling him this every day, 

what I’ve always 

told him:

his life means. 

But the words sink into fear,

get stuck in the throat,

legs still glued to the bed,

mind gripped by galloping thoughts.

I pull the blanket over my head.

Dr. Thelma T. Reyna, the 2014-2016 Laureate, manages Golden Foothills Press which publishes the anthology. She shares this poem from her collection, Rising, Falling, All of Us (link).

Growing Up Dusty in a Small Texas Town

by Thelma T. Reyna

Our ankles were always gray, caliche

dust swirling like guardian angels around twiggy brown

legs leaping potholes, tripping on dirt clods. Nine

children oblivious to what it meant to be growing up dusty.

In winter, rivers of mud separated us from Licha, Juan,

Susie. Dripping mesquite trees beckoned. Black puddles

dotted our ‘hoodscape far as child eyes could see, little

lakes navigated house to house as we grew up dusty.

When morning light tickled our bedfaces, dervishes danced

through cracks and chinks in sills and walls and floors and doors.

Grandma’s rag couldn’t stem the tide of constant coats

of dust as we grew up in our small Texas town.

On the other end were asphalt roads, mown lawns and

children with patent leather shoes that stayed black.

At school, only chalkboard dust bound them and us as

we grew up dusty in our small Texas town.

 

Hazel Clayton Harrison served as Co-poet Laureate in 2018-2020. La Bloga-Tuesday apologizes for our failure to share Harrison's work from her collection, Down Freedom Road (link).

Linda Dove (link) holds a Ph.D. in Renaissance Literature and has published five collections of poetry along with a collection of scholarly essays. Dove's Laureateship included 2012-2014.

Mid-point

by Linda Dove

Now in the middle of my life

my journey is to forgive

everything that’s happened.

—Diana Marie Delgado

Imagine having a job that dispenses forgiveness, like priest or sin-eater. Bread balanced on the knife of the tongue, pre-swallow. I have consumed my fair share of other people’s crimes. The more ground I gain, the more their deeds dull, the more I understand the other side of the moon is an imaginary place. I will learn to live without those gray fields, but there are whole continents on this planet I won’t ever visit—news to my 10-year-old self, who stored dirt under her nails. I think of my untraveled body as an iceberg, all the menace below. What of us ends up rising? By the mid-point of any trip, I tire of regret, so the rest of the journey takes place in my skin, a blue map that reads like a prayer. Its words will extend beyond itself, absolve the feet that wanted to keep walking. 

first published in Club Plum, Issue Two, April 17, 2020.

Teresa Mei Chuc teaches high school while holding several positions with arts organizations and editing anthologies. She served as 2018-2020 Altadena Poet Laureate.

Spring Poem

by Teresa Mei Chuc 

The flowers are blooming

and so are the bruises

on her face

purple and pink like showy penstemon

and there is no where she could go

The bruises on her arm

the deep violet of prickly pear fruits

tender to the touch

The flowers are blooming

around her tent on the hillside

overlooking the freeway

sunflowers, each branch

carrying light

The robins, mockingbirds and blue jays

are singing

as his fist punches her

The flowers are blooming

fuchsia red

fairy duster red

on her skin

and there is no where she could go

Dedicated to our grandmothers, mothers, sisters and daughters experiencing houselessness 

#SheDoes deserve shelter, protection and compassion 

Arts Leadership: Propaedeutic to A Laureate Program

Every community has people who write, or want to write, or want to write better, publish, and find a readership. Absent an established Laureate program, these gente can join writing programs to workshop among peers and grow their local literary community from drafts to published work. 

Women Who Submit is a Southern California organization that outgrew its regional focus to form local chapters in thirteen U.S. states, and Europe. Click this link for a list of local chapters. WWS offers a model for communities not yet in a position to launch a Laureate program, to develop local writers and get them published. Like Altadena's history, a Laureate program begins with a few writers and inevitably grows.

From WWS' website (link):

Women Who Submit seeks to empower women and nonbinary writers by creating physical and virtual spaces for sharing information, supporting and encouraging submissions to literary journals, and clarifying the submission and publication process.

WWS HISTORY

Women Who Submit began with the idea of a submission party—the brainchild of founding member Alyss Dixson—as a response to the VIDA count. Other founding members, Ashaki Jackson and Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo, were brought in to help plan the first ever submission party held in Xochitl-Julisa’s mom’s kitchen (thanks, mom!) in July 2011. On that day six women ate quiche, created a sharing library of lit journals, set goals, asked for feedback on cover letters, and sent off submissions.

La Bloga's Michael Sedano recently enjoyed an engaging afternoon with five members of WWS at historic Campo de Cahuenga in North Hollywood, California. Today, we happily share portraits of WWS readers.  In future, La Bloga looks to share work by WWS writers in an Online Floricanto. 

Annalicia Aguilar

https://annalicia.com/

Tisha Marie Reichle-Aguilera

https://labloga.blogspot.com/2024/03/guest-reviewer-breaking-pattern-black.html

Mona Alvarado Frazier

https://labloga.blogspot.com/2023/07/review-garden-of-second-chances.html

Xochitl-Julsa Bermejo 

https://labloga.blogspot.com/2024/03/xochitl-julisa-bermejos-incantation.html

Roberta H. Martinez

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roberta_H._Martinez

SoCal Poetry News

Saturday, September 7, 11:00 a.m. - 1:00 p.m.

Six-Word Memoir & Book Making Workshop led by Olga Garcia Echeverría

Join the Altadena Poets Laureate for a Six-Word Memoir & Book Making workshop led by poet Olga Garcia Echeverría. About the poet Olga Garcia Echeverría. She / Her / Ella. Creator and destroyer of language. Daughter of migrating dreams. Born and raised in East Los Angeles. Profesora, poeta, and dreamer. Ultra Libra in love with the ocean, the trees, and the honey-making bees. Come write six-word memoirs and make cardboard books with me! olgagarciaecheverria.com | IG @ogecheverria | X @OlgaMariposa. Audience: Adult (18+ Years Old). Event Type: Literature & Poetry. DIY & Crafting. Art.Saturday, September 7, 2024, 11:00 AM – 1:00 PM. Main Library Community Room.

Submissions for Online Publication in Spring 2025 will be accepted beginning September 5, 2024. Guidelines will be published in the near future.

"Best Political Poet in America" To Be Honored

Diseño de modas: “Colección Althinea Dicea” de Alfredo Rifer

Diseño de modas: “Colección Althinea Dicea” de Alfredo Rifer

Xánath Caraza

Alfredo Rifer es el creador de la colección “Althinea Dicea” que tuve la suerte de presenciar cuando recientemente pasé casi tres meses en México para escribir un par de libros. Este evento sucedió al final de mi estancia. La colección de Rifer presentó tonos celestiales, divinos, que celebran la vida, el amor, la amistad y la primavera eterna.

Disfruté de la textura de las telas, los colores, los diseños y la asertividad de las modelos que elegantemente la presentaron. Fui gratamente invitada por Ana iris Nolasco Mijares y Daniel Acevedo quienes fueron los conductores de éste. Confiando plenamente en el buen gusto de Ana Iris acepté la invitación y cuán agradable velada, en el Jardín de las Esculturas en la ciudad de Xalapa, me llevé. Fue una velada con danza, música y, por supuesto, diseño de modas. Espero que nuestros lectores disfruten de la siguiente entrevista con el diseñador, Alfredo Rifer.

 

¿Quién eres? ¿Cómo te defines para el público?

Soy Jorge Alfredo Ríos Fernández. Como nombre Artístico, hasta ahora he sido Alfredo Rifer. Me defino como un ser espiritual.

¿Quién o quiénes te acercan al diseño de modas?

 

Desde que tengo memoria, y empecé a dominar las habilidades motrices, así como a tener consciencia y desarrollar el gusto por ver programas infantiles y leer libros de cuentos de hadas, ilustrados con bellas imágenes, recuerdo que, me fascinaba pasar las tardes en casa dibujando y pintando…. Así, empezaba a crear imágenes como ángeles, hadas y princesas, con vestidos bellos y adornados de todos los colores.

Empecé a ver enciclopedias que había en el librero de la sala, tenían fotos e ilustraciones de trajes de época, y eso me encantaba… cada detalle me parecía maravilloso.

Así, me acerqué a los primeros suspiros de la creación, cuando aún ni siquiera sabía que era valioso todo lo que creamos.

Me costó parte de mi bienestar en casa, era un niño de aproximadamente 8 años, cuando mis padres se daban cuenta que dibujaba muñecas con vestidos bonitos, y les añadía una nota que hacía saber para quien sería ese traje, los regaños y el cinturón se hacía presentes, no era correcto. Pero a escondidas seguía con mi anhelo y gusto por el diseño.

Cuando entré a la secundaría y en parte de la preparatoria, comenzaron las fiestas de XV años, muchas de mis compañeras que me veían dibujar modelos luciendo vestidos, me pidieron diseñar sus vestidos de XV años. incluso alguna Tía de alguna de ellas, a punto de casarse, me pedía opinión y diseños. Parecían confiar tanto en mí, que solo era un muchacho de entre 15 y 16 años. Y, qué decir de cuando empecé mi carrera artística como bailarín, seguí diseñando algunos de mis vestuarios, al igual que como docente y coreógrafo de academia de danza, elegía y diseñaba los vestuarios de mis alumnas. Desde muy pequeño me acerqué al diseño, sin saber exactamente que estaba optando por ese camino.

 ¿Tienes diseñadores favoritos que te hayan influido?

 

Admiro a muchos diseñadores, podría nombrarlos, pero la lista es larga. Creo que la creatividad es infinita, e ilimitada. Se refleja en todo y en muchos. Hay diseñadores que veo en tv, revistas o en las redes, son creadores magníficos y se inclinan a todo tipo de estilos.

Sin embargo, una de mis diseñadoras favoritas de la actualidad, es Pnina Tornai, es una diseñadora israelí, que diseña moda y sobre todo vestidos de Novia, sus diseños son un verdadero sueño y una belleza que considero inigualable, de detalles únicos y con una confección verdaderamente increíble. Me agrada y me inspira por la calidad de sus prendas en alta costura.

De los diseñadores de la historia, creo fervientemente que la moda jamás estaría completa sin la influencia de Coco Chanel y la enaltecida belleza de Dior. Aunque, sé que hay muchos otros creadores de moda a través de la historia, quienes, con sus propuestas, dieron un giro a ésta, tal es el caso de Madeleine Vionnet.  De ellos, aún podemos tener inspiración.

¿Cómo es un día de creación para ti?

 

Siempre que voy a diseñar, comienzo con una preparación que, generalmente precede a tres días. Es lo que llamo una conexión con el ser Divino, superior, la consciencia infinita. Esto consta de una meditación que he aprendido gracias a los momentos difíciles que se enfrenta en la vida. La resiliencia, el hecho de querer ser responsable y levantarme ante cada dificultad para aprender de ello, me ha llevado a encontrar la Voz del Ángel guardián, esa luz que abre el camino y que conecta todo para nuestro bien.

Es así, que, antes de diseñar, me gusta conectar con mi ser, a través de esta meditación llamada La medicina del cubo de Metatrón. Igualmente, he aprendido preparaciones personales, meditativas, de proscripción, donde uno se deshace de energías (pensamientos y emociones, bloqueos) que vamos acumulando.

Pasando los 3 días de preparación, mi día de creación comienza con toda la gratitud, y aceptar que estoy abierto y receptivo a las ideas. confío plenamente en que mi ser está siendo guiado por una mente infinita y creativa, que influyen Ángeles que sostienen mi espacio, y por tanto, todo lo que aquí sucede es perfecto, incluso el error.

Mi espacio de diseño e inspiración es mi hogar. Ahí, hay un lugar dedicado a la creación, pero, como es la mente Divina quien guía el proceso, a veces me lleva a otros lugares, puede ser desde un café hasta el comedor de la casa, o la recámara.

En este proceso, siempre hay música de fondo, música instrumental del tipo de sonidos que llevan frecuencias sonoras. Mis primeros materiales son: hojas de papel, donde comienzo con ideas generales, dependiendo la inspiración y el tema. Así comienzo con bocetos, rayones y manchas de color. También me acompaña un amable y siempre dispuesto maniquí, que me permite ir practicando alguna propuesta sobre de sí.

La frecuencia con la que diseño, depende del interés personal, o de lo que en su momento se requiera.

¿Cuándo sabes que un diseño o colección está listo/a para salir al aire? ¿Cómo has madurado como diseñador?

 

Un diseño está listo cuando visualmente puedes llevar el boceto a la ilustración, pero, esa idea debe aterrizarse haciendo la prueba con los tejidos ideales que den la amplitud, caída, rigidez o textura que uno busca, que decir de la comodidad tanto para trabajar las telas como para convertirse en una prenda.

Una colección está lista, cuando ya se tiene una variedad de prendas que hacen juego una con la otra. Cuando fluyen los diseños como los pasos de ballet, uno va unido al otro, y no cuesta trabajo realizarlos, porque uno da pie o continuidad a lo que viene, al movimiento. Es así, desde mi punto de vista y consideración, que una colección está lista, ya para ser realizada.

Cuando ya tienes un juego de ideas concretas, y éstas hablan por sí solas de una idea en específica, o el tema de inspiración, y las prendas por sí, cuentan una historia sin tener que hablarla…. hablan por sí mismas las ideas en cada prenda, sabes que estás presenciando una deidad, una Diosa, un ángel algo que te recuerda o te hace referencia al tema de inspiración, como en el caso de mi colección Althinea Dicea, inspirada en la Diosa Atena. Quizá alguien no conoce del tema, pero pueden ver su esencia en un vestido de noche.

 

¿En qué colección estás trabajando?

 

Por ahora quiero concretar la colección Althinea Dicea con variantes en cuanto a tonalidades y siluetas, y demás detalles; ya que, es una colección que piensa salir para el próximo año, 2025.

¿Qué consejos tienes para otros diseñadores que comienzan?

 

Simplemente, creer en todo lo que hacen, cada quien tiene un tiempo, una forma de pensar, compartimos ideas si, en una conciencia colectiva, por eso estamos en grupos afines, pero más allá de eso, cada quien tiene sus ideales personales, objetivos y metas, no las pierdan de vista. Hay que creer en ellos, no se debe tener expectativas de nadie, de nada que venga de fuera de uno mismo, pues solo uno mismo, puede darse todo lo mejor y lo maravilloso del vivir, ¿cómo? al ser responsable aun con todo lo que nos pueda hacer tropezar.

Muchas veces el aprender a planear como lo marcan en la formación al estudiar Diseño, puede traer algún bloqueo, ya que uno debe concentrarse solo en ideas concretas, que avanzados en la inspiración nos dejan cortos de creatividad, pero hay que aprender a hacerlo, hay que cumplir con lo establecido y practicar, para que después, ya en la libertad se pueda tomar del sistema lo que te sirve y te acomoda.

Esto es moda, y es creación, y la creatividad no tiene límites. Puedes acomodar tus ideas como nos han enseñado en el proceso creativo, para no perder puntos de vista importantes, pero antes de esas ideas que complementan la inspiración, hay que elegir el cómo, el método, y de ese método que nos sirve, eso es lo ideal en el caso personal. Más allá de esto, es dejarse fluir por la mente infinita o tu Divinidad, saber que todo lo que viene y será, será perfecto, siempre y cuando se acepte y se asimile la idea que se avanza hacia un bien mayor al poner empeño y dedicación, pero sobre todo la confianza en tu ser creativo. ¿Cómo? no lamentar ni siquiera el error, aceptar todo es mejor, y de ello, hasta el tener que hacer modificaciones incluso desde el inicio, es perfecto, pues tu razonamiento quiere concebir algo listo ya concretado, pero tu Divinidad, que es lo más alto de tu creatividad te sigue moviendo y sigue buscando, purificando ideas y añadiendo o incluso, como en la mayoría de los casos, quitando y quitando cosas que, al parecer no van, aunque uno crea lo contrario.

¿Hay algo más que quisieras compartir sobre tu proceso de creación y planeación personal?

 

Hay personas que saben llevar continuamente un orden de todo, respetar los tiempos estimados y cumplir exactamente con las ideas que concretaron. Bien por ellos, pero es su proceso, incluso hay quienes ilustran mejor y quienes costuran mejor, o quienes son más rápidos. No debe haber comparación, más que con los avances personales. Fijarse en el proceso ajeno, es quedarse atascado en el camino, y la carrera no es competencia si no objetivo. Hay que identificar en principio, qué es lo que más nos gusta de la carrera de Diseño y moda, qué es lo que más se nos facilita, y entonces pulirlo, convertirlo en maestría.

Después, no a la par, identificar las debilidades, jamás lamentarlas, puedes tener tu tiempo de caos y crear tu drama, vívelo, pero que no pase de un rato que se supera. Solo aceptar dichas debilidades, nos permite vernos desde una mejor perspectiva, ya que, podemos conocernos a fondo. Así podremos afrontar todo como un reto, de otras debilidades hacernos siempre responsables, quizá pedir apoyo, y otras más, simplemente complementarlas con algo que nos vaya mejor, de algunas cuantas quizá podemos entender que no son lo que en sí requerimos, pero siempre hacer el esfuerzo de cumplir y crecer en ello es bueno. Con el tiempo, si es requerido, probablemente mejoren y ciertas debilidades se conviertan en una capacidad más, pero al principio, es afrontar, responsabilizarse, y, pulir lo que mejor nos va.

En lo personal, solía frustrarme mucho, porque muchas veces lo que había planeado, sufría muchos cambios, o no salía, o lo que había elegido, como, por ejemplo, la paleta de color, o ciertos tejidos, no los encontraba, y su existencia ni siquiera se asemejaba a algo que hallaba en algún lugar. Así que, decidí que más allá de abocarme al libro y a las reglas de la creación, estas me servirían a mí como creador.

El creador soy yo, y quizá me sirva algo de algún aspecto del diseño, entonces lo tomo. quizá me sirve algo de proceso de planeación, entonces lo tomo, lo que es ideal en ese momento viene a mi propio proceso de creación, y en otros momentos, es sorprendente que lo que se cree que no utilizaras nunca, viene a unirse a tu coro creativo. 

Por tanto, hay que aprender a hacer lo que se nos pide en la formación, seguir las reglas es perfecto, después en tu libertad, el conocimiento, incluso el que menos nos gusta, en un momento dado puede ser una herramienta.

 

Muchas gracias, Alfredo Rifer, por aceptar esta entrevista para La Bloga.