This past fall I was in New York with my writer pal Audrey Vernick and we stumbled upon this Picasso Exhibit at MOMA. We really did. We had a couple of hours to kill in Manhattan, and lo and behold, this. The whole experience blew us away. The breadth, the quantity. The fact that Picasso was apparently good at everything in every medium.
So when it was my turn to offer up an image to my poetry group for ekphrastic inspiration, I thought, YES — Picasso! In the end, I shared multiple images so everyone could find one that spoke to them. Here’s mine!
Picasso’s Woman
Liz Garton Scanlon
When you look in the mirror
and see a body
that isn’t yours – hips
like an egg timer
with all the sand stuck
in place, thighs the size
of a small state – they say
that’s a disorder, a delusion,
which is a way of saying:
Look, there’s something else
wrong with you, not just the
thick neck and uneven breasts,
but also this – this way
of thinking – you’re disordered!
and because you always listen
to all of the voices
you hurry to have your head
shrunk
right away.
Please check out the others too!
Sara Lewis Holmes
Tanita Davis
Kelly Fineman
Laura Purdie Salas
Tricia Stohr-Hunt
(And, bonus, Tricia’s hosting Poetry Friday today so you’ll find lots more than just us there! Enjoy!)
It makes me laugh that you and I could choose the same image and come at it in such completely different ways. I both wince at and recognize the conclusions this one draws – “look, there’s something else wrong with you –” not just what you thought, now, additionally, you will bear the burden of what I think… UGH. But, these are the voices that speak to women at a constant murmur, and some days, at a deafening roar…
Oh, Liz. Look at what a warm and wry statement you made in response to the very same piece of art I hated and was flip about. I love how you use descriptors that actually describe the sculpture itself, but that also works completely without the image. Your poems always have such a lovely sense of acceptance and forgiveness (to ourselves and others) in them. Sigh. Love it. (Still hate the sculpture, though:>)
I adored the fact that you, Tanita and Laura all wrote about this piece and responded so very differently – each in your own perfect way. I really think it’s a wonderful piece, and repeat my comment on how that title bears multiple meanings – the name of the sculpture, Picasso’s view of women, the weight of being with Picasso. So great.
I can only echo what Tanita and Laura and Kelly said—this poem is deep in so many ways, and yet, so accessible and kind, too. I’m overcome, sometimes, by the way art makes us reflect upon—and reflect back–images, like getting a new pair of eyes to SEE with. Just…powerful.
Also: hips like an egg timer is such a great turn of phrase, evoking a shape but also time passing, collecting debris in our bodies, all our thoughts about ourselves getting stuck, and other people’s thoughts of ourselves sticking too, and the more I ponder it, I think: that Liz. She’s my kind of poet. 🙂
I confess I didn’t see how this sculpture was a woman until I read the poems. Your poem in particular hits a nerve for me; and I see I am really really angry at that thing. Damn those voices!
“When you look in the mirror and see a body that isn’t yours …” There days it’s my hands and face, more than my body that don’t look like mine, but boy do I relate to these lines. Actually, to the whole poem, and Tanita’s right that these are the voices we hear and listen to. I don’t know if you noticed, but the lines of your poem almost match the shape of the sculpture. I love this in all its self-deprecation, but most adore the head-shrinking bit. Even though I’d read it before, the ending still made me laugh out loud.
Bravo!
I’m with Andi — this sculpture makes me mad. How dare he! The big birthing-baby hips, the little do-nothing-important arms, the look-at-me boobs, the tiny little no-brains head…I feel like the title of this sculpture should be “Here’s How Men See You, But You Are and Always Will Be SO MUCH MORE THAN THIS.”
This is really an odd-shaped sculpture – and I am glad to see your poetic response to it and Laura’s too – which I just visited. Lovely how people respond differently to art, indeed.