He leans into the pavement,
close enough to kiss the cold
hardness of it, squinting through
a dusting of charcoal. There’s a smear
on his cheek that points to his ear,
red with cold. He has coalminer’s
fingers and a cough that rattles his ribs.
The jacket across his shoulders has seen
better days, but the charcoal’s pristine
and the coloured chalks are clean.
On the pavement, his soul shines
through crosshatching and charcoal lines,
and his face stares up from the concrete –
until the clouds break.
Kim M. Russell, 8th October 2019
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: On Profiles and Portraits
Anmol, our host today, can’t believe that it’s October already – neither can I! He tells us that studying journalism has been a whirlwind of a journey so far and explains how he has learnt to profile people for hard news reports as well as features. He gives us an example of observing a migrant worker, in order to get a picture of who is in words.
He gives us as examples poems with vivid descriptions of people by Charles Bukowski, Walt Whitman and T.S. Eliot, as well as a self-portrait by Afaa Michael Weaver.
Anmol would like us to write/create profiles/portraits in our verse.
This is an excellent image, I love how you made him part of the drawing he is doing and as a matter of fact I imagined him to be coming straight out from a Van Gogh charcoal drawing.
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Thank you, Bjorn. I’ve seen some fabulous pavement artists, and some incredible portraits. Have you heard of Julian Beever, also known as the Pavement Picasso? He’s an English pavement artist who’s been around since the mid-1990s. Much of his work is 3-D. here’s a link to his website: http://www.julianbeever.net/
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I have not seen a lot of this in Stockholm… sounds so interesting.
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What a fantastic visual! Your words make us see him and know him through his work/actions — the specific details like the smear on his cheek and coalminer hands conjure such a clear image. That ending is a gem, Kim! 🙂
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Thank you so much, Anmol. 😉
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You brought this man to life. Well done.
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Thank you, Ali!
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I, too, loved this poem. Like the artist, it makes just the right strokes.
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Thank you, Judy!
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Beever is amazing. I’d seen some of these, but not most. Thanks for the link.
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You’re welcome, and I’m glad you like his work.
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That last line is so well chosen.
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Thank s Carol. I always feel awful when rain washes a masterpiece away. Maybe that’s why there are more pavement artists in places like Italy.
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There’s something very poignant in the association with coal miners. Doomed to extinction.
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There is, Jane!
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🙂
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I love how your characterize the artist, dressed a little shabby but his “charcoal’s pristine and his chalk’s clean.” I take the last line as the images he creates are impermanent but also one crying as they watch him work. What a beautiful tribute to the street artist, Kim. So vivid.
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Thank you so much, Jade, for close reading and understanding.
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You are welcome, Kim.
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A cough and coal miner’s hands…this is one of your best to date. Although he is probably British I see him as Welsh. His face a part of his work…with the colors I see his face in Turner or Whistler.
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That’s high praise, Toni, thank you so much.
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I love how you brought him to life with this line ‘On the pavement, his soul shines
through crosshatching and charcoal lines,’
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Thank you Catherine-Jayne.
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I didn’t see the picture before finishing the poem; when I scrolled down and saw it, it was /so exactly the image/ that you painted in my head. I am in awe.
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Thank you so much, Xan.
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I saw him in my mind before I even saw your photo. I loved your description Kim 🙂💕
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Thank you, Christine!
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Terrific portrait, so gritty and yet ethereal. We get so much rain here in the Pac NW, I have never seen a pavement artist; sand and ice sculptures, and chainsaw figures, yes. The one line about his miner’s hands and cough opens up a vast back story, this forced to retire miner with black lung and the heart of an artist.
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Thank you so much, Glenn. I’m glad you picked up on that line.
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I like how his soul shines on the pavement.
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Thanks Frank.
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I like the contrast between the worn coat and the pristine chalks. A true artist.
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Thank you, Maggie.
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We have one of those in our neighborhood too– she often gathers quite a crowd. (K)
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I enjoy all kinds of street art, but pavement art is ephemeral, that’s what makes it special.
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I love your poem. I could see the man drawing on the sidewalk even before I scrolled down and saw the photo. so well done!
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Thank you so much, Dwight. I’m behind with reading and commenting, but hope to catch up later.
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The detailing is great, Kim. I like the fact that he is creating himself – as we all are. It works as a metaphor for creativity as well as a portrait.
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Thank you, Sarah.
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So great with fantastic details. My favorite:
“On the pavement, his soul shines
through crosshatching and charcoal lines,”
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Thanks Phillip.
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Exsquisite description that brings your portrait to life, Kim!
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Thanks Frank!
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“until the clouds break” … his art if for the moment – these artists always amaze me.
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Labourers of love.
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Atalented interesting character Kim. Wonderful picture. Would love to see his work
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Thank you, Rob.
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Chalk drawings can be amazing – we don’t see them rise to an art form too often in this country. They are truly art for art’s sake because of their transitory nature. I think of the prehistoric cave paintings found deep inside the earth, gone unseen for century upon century or petroglyphs scratched in a box canyon wall and wonder if there’s an atavistic memory that the street artist embodies – something that’s always been a part of being human that ties us directly to those ancient ones. The sidewalk is not so different from the rocky surface of a cave.
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I agree!
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