A Different Kind of Art

Well … I am still here.  Things have changed and even somewhat slightly for the better.  But I have miles to go with little visibility in order to reach where I would really like to be.  Until then, I walk forward bearing a pain of a dream yet to be fulfilled.  But also, I propose to share something that may unstick the universe.

Along with music, another long time art form I have done for most of my life is poetry.  It was something that stemmed from both a personal curiosity and one of the easiest ways to realize something I envisioned in my head.  (I had very high ambitions for music when I was young.  Film was there too but I felt it was way beyond my reach and thus never really considered it.)  In childhood, I wrote poems every now and then.  But it was when I was in high school when I started writing poetry at very prolific rate.  In fact, I submitted twenty-three poems my junior year for the school’s literary magazine and twenty-four my senior (one and two made it in respectively).

It was Valentine’s Day 2001 where I wrote a poem that inadvertently begin a tradition that I continue to keep to this day.  I wrote “The Day the Heart Bled” as a reaction to what I saw around me in the hallways and my own romantic frustrations at the time.  Looking back on it, it does fall into the typical teenage poetry clichés at times.  But at the same time, I was honest and I figured that should forgive sins of immature craft.  Two years later, I coincidentally wrote another poem on Valentine’s Day where it was also a reflection of where I was romantically at the time called “The Day the Heart Healed”.  Thus, a tradition was solidified when I wrote another one in 2005 called “The Day the Heart Disintegrated”.  Now on odd number years, I write a poem on Valentine’s Day as a kind of “state of the heart” address.

So what does this have to do with these potential films?  Well, in 2011, I wrote “The Day the Heart Comprehended”:



Grey white
Soot white
Earth white
Asphalt black
Grey black

Yet they fade away to make way for still relevant incandescence
To supplement another rectangle for continuous viewing
Never speaking a word to return home to remain silent
And navigating through a labyrinth of your own design
You collapse onto your poor man’s divan

And wish away another day


He moves through the city streets
Clutching onto a wound received
On a square survey foot battleground
Proceeds to drown the sorrow for night
And press on to meet another sunrise
To dampen a lingering reverberation
And move once more

Yet an encounter takes on his own cosmic significance
And thus draws him into a series of moments
Some pleasant
Some educational
Some amusing
Some insightful
Some profound
And some intimate
Where they at last take him to the places
The poet dared to venture and transcribed for us mere mortals

Yet great heights could yield great falls
And thus pushes him through a series of moments
Some distasteful
Some regressive
Some depressing
Some cataleptic
Some banal
And some isolating
Where they take him once more to the places
The poet dared to venture and transcribed for us mere mortals

So where does one go after the dervish?
Was there wisdom to gain in the ornate chambers?
Was there a new light to transfigure hidden eyes?
Did you – or could you – know at last the elusive name?

He moves through the city streets
Clutching onto a wound received
On a square survey foot battleground …


Incurred a debt
And thus demanding reconciliation
From a collective of new creditors
Who were never subject to the contract

All to prove a point
About mental runarounds
Never cementing a foundation
And yet form the bedrock of a modern faith

Play a game with end known yet results unknown
In order to see things anew
See a conclusion with self-apparent connection
Yet unknown to the other party

Thus progress turns to regress
Gathering turns to dispersing
Friendship breaks
Banishment ensues

So why hold on to the debt at all?
Why maintain the mask?
Has the point been proven already?
Isn’t there a ladder to climb?


Silence before
Silence after
Silence amongst
Silence within
Silence alone

Then the catalyst changes the solution
Yet remains the same

Voices refined
Voices soaring
Voices connecting
Voices inspiring
Voices praying

Then the antibodies seek to expel an infection
Yet acts on a false positive

Love reaffirmed
Love understood
Love tested
Love prevails
Love grows

Then the blossom opens to a clean day
Yet continues to grow across a bridge at twilight


Aviary and atmospheric blue returns once more …
Was it all just a way to understand something deeper?


Get it? =]


And Then This Happened …

It has been a long while I have written something.  As it should have already been established, I only write something here when there is something worthwhile to report in regards to this project.  In addition, I have been busy with many things, both personally (mostly in the dayjob realm) and creatively (a lot of other projects I’m trying to realize on top of this one).  But I have now some time to mention a few things that I have happened recently.

1) The Key and the Frame was selected to play at Byzanfest 2014, the first short film festival devoted to Orthodox Christian filmmakers.

2) I had a chance to talk with Chris Vlahonasios – who also initiated Byzanfest 2014 through his blog, Orthodox Filmmakers and Artists – about what I am trying to do here and it became the first episode of his podcast programme called The Moving Icon, distributed through the Orthodox Christian Network.  To access it directly, go here.

For more information about his blog and all of his various efforts, go here.

For now, it’s just moving forward as much as one can.  And remember: just because I have not written anything here does not mean I have not forgotten this project.  How can I?