Art Books
Handcrafted art books
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ELEGY FOR THE MCKENZIE by Kyla Corbett
River chatter and bird songs remind us of the richness of life that surrounds us. Gentle breezes, ancient trees and abundant wildlife seep into our souls. This forest is our home and we find joy and peace while building memories with our children. In the stillness of the night, we listen to crickets chirp and coyotes sing. A hot dry wind starts to howl warnings of the firestorm to come. Distant thunder rolls across the hills as dark clouds swallow the stars. Lightning claps and the forest flickers in a dawn-like glow. A roaring blaze dashes down the mountain as smoke rolls toward the valley like a freight train. Flames lick up the trunks of trees and create explosions of bark that shatter the crackling air. The fiery blaze sprints across the forest floor, driving all to flee while embers fall from the sky. No longer home and nowhere to go. Trees are blackened and weak, clinging to the loosened soil with their shriveled roots, straining to stay upright. Beetles come in to feast which then beckons the woodpeckers while green shoots of fiddleheads emerge, unfurling a glimpse of life anew. The rumble of chainsaws fills the air and nearby mills sharpen their blades as log trucks crowd their gates with blackened gold. Butterflies hover and owls silently swoop away. Gone is the forest. Only memories survive and we cry. Seedlings sprout and hold their ground while the forget-me-nots sway in the breeze and birds sing of new beginnings. We cautiously return to replace our sense of loss with renewal as we rebuild our home and our memories. While we sit among velvet mosses and pink fireweed, we are reminded to cherish what was and what is. The end is just the beginning. |
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In an art book class I took at LCC with Susan Lowdermilk in 2020, we designed a pop-up book based on a nursery rhyme. I chose Little Bo' Peep. I sketched the drawings with ink and printed the poem in a green color. I covered the book in a playful green and white floral cloth with a faux fur strip.
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"Lost in the crowd"
Our souls choke and we struggle to breathe, Suffocation lurks ahead. Darkness moves in and we lose our way. We stumble in our fear and loneliness, Time suspends and doors slam shut. We gasp for air, We claw toward the things we can still touch. Our hands wither beneath layers of fear and Our lungs shrivel behind the stench of masks. Panic takes over as we drown in silence. All becomes quiet as we surrender, Curled tightly, alone, on the floor, In the dark, Listening to the breaths we have left, In…. and out…. In…. and out…. In.… and out…. In…. and out…. …… The sound of an old, rusty doorknob starts to turn, We raise our head and listen, Sticky hinges moan, Light slips through the shadows And covers us with warmth. Our eyes start to adjust and we can see again, Behind the open door, A straight and clear path, Like none we’ve seen before, We push ourselves up off the floor, And make the decision to walk through, Free at last, To start again, To be who we really are. |