The Shared Palette Of Poetry and Paint Gopal Raman TEDxPlano

august twenty-third 2005 quote from the Sun Sentinel reads scores killed as Katrina pound states along Gulf Coast the lichen dips its furry fingers just inches in but it's enough how nice to know when to stop woke up late today cracked open the faucet and dipped my frail fingers in until they pruned and wrinkled can't write with tight skin leave the paper soaking graphite shading the dripping shadows the paper just sits pruned and not wanting to dry off and that must be enough to feel the earth crackle but to not fear the water creeping through the cracks to hear prune and think of the fruit here cane and not hurry to run but to taste the sugar melt into your mouth my fingers are tightening up so dipped them in the stream again but they take longer to wrinkle last September was appointed as national student poet in the White House joining for other writers as literary ambassadors to our region's my main duty during my year of service is to go out in the southwest region connect with new communities and spread my love of poetry the piece just shared was the poem read in the appointment ceremony with first lady Michelle Obama for this poem tried to focus on material related to specific event which in this case was Hurricane Katrina so that could approach the issue with real compassion everything learned while writing this poem not only made me more caring person but also taught me how deeply poetry can heal far too often poetry is perceived as form belonging only two yellowed textbooks and ancient scrolls instead of what it really is an art filled with freedom creativity and connection as writer find joy and inspiration and spreading my love for verse two other young writers by showing them the fun and creativity that poetry is built upon even as arts funding dwindles in these schools around the nation the concept of art is still president most students lives but for the most part and forms like drawing and painting in my work try to build on the visual foundation to establish poetry is another medium that can channel that imagination and imagery visual art of any kind and then become tether for poetry as part of education if poetry is taught as an accessible art form that more and more young kids will find seat fitted just for them at the table of creativity then as they began to integrate imagination into their identity they'll begin to develop just like did in 7th grade deeper and more sweeping sense of confidence and power my humanities class five years ago words broke free from the textbook and morph into tool just as in that same year fell in love with visual art through photography fell in love with writing through language language like camera set to manual was delicate expensive machine the required caring curiosity to operate couldn't just sit down and write needed to sit down and work as we dove into the churning sea storms available and explore the marbled midst of Greek gods learned how to write from ancient masters and how to swim through my imagination for my work in other media by feeling words true texture at witnessing how its color swirls and blends when part of larger thought saw the poetry and paint we're two tools not too different from each other and one of my first assignments as national student poet was to visit local museum chose dallas museum of art and write poem influenced by piece of artwork there originally thought to myself alright I'll just find fancy portrait and fill that space with personal story instead when got to the museum found myself somehow magnetically attracted the sculpture and design instead of just painting right about something so functional like chair realized when providing experience completely different to any I'd had before as writer the chair chose was beautiful glass and Rose sculpture entitled miss Blanche asheru kamata my poems title is frozen frozen the skies freeze into clean cut glass along my back the little princess Rose sleeps in my arm the scarlet drinks the Starlight crisp formaldehyde clutch fills my curves with cutting grace there is no marbled elegance to my beauty shine in the dark like gloss on Matt like shadow on stucco firmament breasts on my amethyst legs and magnified the ground for the stars my life burns on with deathly perfection my roses were weaned on knife-edge glass and molten sand there was no adapter to bloat the pedals with love my roses are beautiful but just beautiful enough in my poetry strive to force my words to carry more than think possible and can only do this but forcing my mind to look deeper at the art that gives my life meaning from sculpture to painting to film visual art pushes my understanding of the world to the cliff that invites me to jump fearlessly into my poetry as much of my world changes in ways that often deeply unsettle me poetry is the place turned to for not only solace but also inspiration my time of the world of poetry has shown me that poets are some of the most active energetic and passionate people know it's family built upon accepting anyone and everyone and even if you don't write poetry still has place in your life just as crayons and markers fuel children's creativity poetry as messy elegant and freeing art form it helped young students create if through visual art more and more kids learn about creativity and poetry that the next generation of creators and thinkers be one marked by inclusion and passion instead of paranoia and closed mindedness the world is changing there's no denying that the poetry is and always has been safe haven for everything worth cherishing now before leave you today I'd like to share more recent poem I've written one that hope embodies the apathy compassionate poetry has taught me it's entitled refugee refugee he said that he was from where the river flows they took tea with salt and sand that he mixed water and oil in his veins he thought the shadows were slower on this side of the coast that the rain fell thicker in here at the ground forgot herself he smelled of dust and honey like be stripped of stripes and spike just formless fuzz and to open eyes his wings were clipped memories of an easier home loss to beige wind he seemed sandbox of all things for him stone skipped across starred in sees an older moon closed his eyes hotter kiln hardened his skin wetter Sun forged his steel didn't know him now saw his face among the crowd on sidewalks in the streets our fingers never touched never felt the whirl of his warmth or even fleeting touch but then saw he had sister and what else could he need to prove his humanity to me thank you