Selected Poetry from Dorothy Robbins' book:
"Beats From Heartland-Autobiographical Reflections"
Translated to hebrew by Leah Zehavi
Introduction by Leah Zehavi
Dorothy Robbins is first and foremost a sculptress. "This is my life-line" she says, and the numerous, diverse, lyrical sculptures she makes, testify to that. Her writing emerged at a much later stage. Aging and especially the increasing physical disablement, muscular dystrophy, limit her capacity to sculpt and she has more time for reflection and observation. Wishing to understand her life better and to lend it meaning, she began to write verses. Writing between 1994 and 1998 had become for her a supplement to sculpture, balancing her urgent need for creative expression.
The Surreal Peace Chair
18.2.95
Good God! It started!
Between the house and studio
out in the open patio
there was an air of excitement
when the action began.
Positioning myself in the rocker
with the wax model at my side
and a tape measure in both hands
figuring ten times its size.
Marking off measured joints
cutting dimensions from steel
we fitted together the various points
to fuse them fast into a weld.
The sparks began to fly
igniting dancing sparklers
like celebrating the fourth of July.
Forming lines with steel pipes
a surreal chair began to grow
with three firm legs supporting
and forelegs protruding below.
It became graced with a canopy
sheltering the seating beneath
while a dove settled highest
viewing the scene from afar.
11.3.95
But was there ever a question of completion
as there seems to be today
with symptoms of fear and trepidation
from lack of body coordination?
18.3.95
Today there are hints
of lines harmonizing
and forms belonging
offering sittings for two.
The chair turns stately
with a bluff at dignity
opening an invitation
to break its symmetry
tempting social interaction
for sharing an experience
demanding that thes itters
sit bolt upright
on a hard unyielding surface
with the weather determining
a hot or cold bottom
as arms reach for resting
and legs fall dangling
while a canopy protects
and a dove abstracts.
A Reason For Being
It became an urgent need
to leap into the out side
received by the early breeze
reviving, pulsating, feeling.
Pain marked the season
but a gift of love sustained me.
Its message was strong and fervent
carrying me with its current.
Protectively, I guard my cause
renewing the loving force
to understand a changing reality
and maintain my reason for being.
Beginning Again
Trembling unfamiliarly
begging for relief
oh pounding heart,
push ahead these faltering hands.
It's only clay…
Make the start
don't look back.
Stop running from fear
of a self-image tarnished
yet unmade in clay.
No way out.
Shoulders contract
arms that cannot reach;
it's my lifeline at stake
seeking an answer in clay.
Searching without end
so much unresolved
grasping for direction
with so little time
to open space in clay.
Quiet, dear heart
sitting without pain
the creation will come
like a breath of life.
A Miniature World
Mine is a miniature world,
a microcosm of attempted balance,
foreboding flaws and weakness
while maintaining an even steadiness.
A scarred yet protected chamber,
each module assembled with care
completes a precarious pattern
for movement in this little world.
An aging accumulation
worn by ungoverned parts
reduces desires
and fits them into my world.
|
