Thursday, June 22, 2006


Lives roll on like a river. A number of years ago, I published an all-women's words journal to give voice to the unique experience forgotten in so much of our contemporary literature. I am continually asked what happened to it. I am resurrecting that journal now in this blog.

The journal reflected women's experiences not taught in the rigid halls of academia, the rightgeous big works of European ateliers, the rarefied few who made the grade to have their work be published, judged by some board to be worthy. I solicited real women's voices, their stories and hardships, their joys and sorrows.

I collect stories like people. Recipes, remembrances of cooking in a Chicago kitchen during the 50s, loves lost, an artist's foray into poetry, a girl child's story about a science experiment. So.

Send me your words, your stories, your poetry, your art, and I will give it a forum here at Deepwater Journal. "Is it good enough"? is not the issue here. Will never be the focus.

This first image contributed is titled "Familiar Passage" by American artist Martha Marshall. It is featured in her current show at Corporate Canvas Gallery in Wilmington, North Carolina through June 30, 2006. The opening reception featured a 12- piece chamber orchestra and was attended by some 100 art patrons.

Don't let the word "Corporate" scare you. Martha is an International class abstract artist and friend who salved my soul in the world of administrative assistants and who emerged from the academic world with her own voice intact. She earned her stripes. Martha's work is a composite, a whole. A delightful poet, insightful writer, and world's best sister friend. As an Alabamian home girl, she embraced big hair when it was in and remained real for the duration. Collect her work now. While you can afford it. She is important and will be more important still. For more information about Martha and her work, check out her blog.

I am honored to also feature in this inaugural issue of Deepwater Journal an enormously talented friend, poet, performance artist, and visionary artist Phyllis McEwen, who has just introduced her own blog titled "Don't Get Me Started." Phyllis' incredible poetry stabs through your heart and soul with a honey-laden knife. She portrays folklorist and writer Zora Neale Hurston throughout the United States in the Road Scholars Program sponsored by the Florida Humanities Council. I'm honored to have costumed her character in genuine Blue Goddess garb, lo, these many years, and more honored still to have watched her transform into the real Zora.

I'm introducing her outsider art here, this piece titled "Blondie and Me," a self portrait of Phyllis with her beloved cat Blondie, who lives on in spirit. This piece is ink on paper, 9 x 11, and is available for purchase as a giclee print. I have dibs on the original because I experienced Blondie's healing, unconditional love and burgeoning worldliness and this piece moves me.

Phyllis is emergent from the cocoon of creativity. Oshun directed her and continues to bless. Collect her art now because she is the next African-American Vera and because her art is forward.

2 comments:

ggaleria said...

Dear Queen,

As a regular reader of Martha Marshall's blog, I have just discovered your blogging entries.

I love your postings of the art by both Martha and Phyllis and I am energized by the descriptions of your other friends as well.

I have come to reading blogs only recently and have responded to them by email, so this is new for me. I have a web site at www.gramercygalleria.com, but no blog. I do a lazy digital diary with minimal entries. I can only wonder at the energy that you and so many other artists and bloggers display.

Energy and spirit have the power to be balancing and healing. To that end, I am happy to participate.

queenlint1 said...

Dear Ms. Robin,

I was awed by your amazing work and can only encourage you to participate in the blog phenomenon as a force. While your diaries and the photo log are zen in their stark beauty, I would love to hear more of your voice.

Blessings and best wishes,
Dina