Original Poem: The Kuleshov Effect

Recently, Josh did a stop motion video of me writing out one of my poems called "The Kuleshov Effect." Stop motion is done by taking consecutive photos and then playing them back at 24 frames/sec. It gives the film a choppy look, and with the antique effect Josh used, this really looks like an antique film (well, except for the two cars in my driveway). I hope you love it as much as I do!

 

The Kuleshov Effect

Rachel Marie Talan

Shelved books gather dust like old,

forgotten trophies. Sunlight streams through 

the open window,

a spotlight.

Cut.

The author spins phrases on his typewriter

while the sun strikes his back with 

warmth, with pain. 

Cut.

There’s a dandelion on the lawn. A 

lone survivor. All his friends, killed on

behalf of beauty’s war. 

Cut.

She sits at the bar and takes her

first drink in fifteen years.

Cut.

A penny is stranded, tail-side-up, in the gutter.

Cut.

A cigar still burns in an ashtray,

smoke dancing up and away from its

abandoned form.

Cut. 

The metronome ticks atop the musicless piano. 

Cut.

For Reasons, Most Wondrous

"To the garden, the world, anew ascending,
Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding,
The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being,
Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber;

"The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, have brought me again,	5
Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all wondrous; My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for reasons, most wondrous;

"Existing, I peer and penetrate still,
Content with the present—content with the past,

"By my side, or back of me, Eve following,	10
Or in front, and I following her just the same." ---- "To the Garden of the World" by Walt Whitman

Outfit Details:

Photos taken by Josh.

Glasses//RayBan
Earrings//Vintage, 1950s
Ring//Antique
Cardigan//Charlotte Russe
Dress (worn as blouse)//Vintage, 1980s
Skirt//Vintage, 1960s - via Vintage Archives
Shoes//Vintage 1960s
Handbag//Vintage 1950s

Kore

"I have watched your smile in your sleep

and I know it is the boat 

in which my sun rides under the earth

all night on the wave of your breath

no wonder the days grow short

and waking without you

is the beginning of winter

"How is it that I can hear your bird voice now

trickling among the ice towers

through the days of the anvil

as the year turns I carry an echo

over my own stones and I listen

my eyes are open looking ahead

I walk a little ahead of myself touching

the air where nobody sees you

and the sun as it sets through the forest of windows

unrolls slowly

its unrepeatable secret

all the colors of autumn without the leaves

"You were shaking and an air full of leaves

flowed out of the dark falls of your hair

down over the rapids of your knees

until I touched you and you grew quiet

and raised to me

your hands and your eyes and showed me

twice my face burning in amber

"Already  on the first hill with you beside me
at the foot of the ruins I saw through the day
and went on without pausing
loving the unheld air
as a wing might love it flying
toward you unknowing
knowing

"When they are together our hands are of an age

and a dark light flows up between them

into its feathers

We have brought

nothing with us

but what has come of itself

we pass the stone fragments

the ancient smiles holding out

no hands

like the trees their sisters born older

"I trust neither memory nor expectation
but even the white days of cities
belong to what they do not see
even the heart of the doubters' light is gold
even when you are not with me
in the flowerless month of the door god
you look at me with your eyes of arrival

"Thirty days after the solstice

forms of ripe wheat

emerge from the tips of the branches

Far outside them

here

where you have never been

I reach for you with my eyes

I call you with my body

that knows your one name

"Days when I do not hear you 

it seems that the season flows backward

but it is only

I

of hollow streets

deaf smoke

rain on water

"We cross the smooth night lake together

in the waiting boat

we are welcomed without lights

again and again we emerge by day

hand in hand

from all four corridors at once

under the echoing dome

guided by what has not been said 

"The shadow of my moving foot 

feels your direction

you come toward me

bringing the gold through the rust

you step to me through the city of amber

under the moon and the sun

voice not yet in the words

what is spoken is already

another year."

-- W.S. Merwin

Details:

"Kore" by W.S. Merwin - to read the complete piece (nope, this isn't the whole thing), see his collection The Compass Flower.


Photos by Josh.


Glasses//Ray Ban
Necklace//Antique
Dress (worn as blouse)//Vintage, 1980s
Skirt//Vintage, 1980s
Trench Coat//Vintage, Thrifted
Cardigan//Charlotte Russe
Shoes//Vintage, 1980s via The Paraders

Where I Am

Though I don’t have the pleasure of attending the IFB Conference this month, I will be making a trip to NYC in March for a writing conference. This will be my first time in New York. While I’m incredibly thrilled, I’m also incredibly frightened. 

See, I’m directionally challenged. Navigation is not one of my talents. I get lost in my own town, so I will likely be meandering hopelessly through the streets of New York with a GPS system in my hands and a glassy, bewildered expression in my eyes. 

Thinking about what I’ll wear there...probably exactly what I wear when I’m home. I don’t worry much about fitting into my environment. I don’t fit in here, so it makes no difference to me whether or not I fit into the New York aesthetic. 

Clothes aren’t so much about where I am geographically. I dress according to where I am in my mind. (And according to the temperature because no matter how strong the will, I cannot conquer the climate.)

People often ask me why do you wear that. I like to dress as though I’ve just climbed out of a novel. I like to look intriguing and whimsical because that’s where I am in my mind. I wear it because I like it. Because it makes me feel good about myself and good about my world. Because it’s comfortable. Because it inspires me and tells a story. Why would I wear something that didn’t accomplish those things? 

Why do you wear what you wear? Does it depend upon where you are on the globe?

Details:

Photos by Josh. 

Don't you love the awesome effects he used? He's such a genius. 

To see more of his snazzy photography, click here.

Earrings//The Quirky Poet

Trench Coat//Vintage, thrifted

Ring//Target

T-shirt//Hand-me-down

Skirt//The Quirky Poet

Purse and Shoes//ModCloth

Je me sens belle et malicieuse.

Details:

Photos by Josh.

Owl Ring//Charlotte Russe
Blouse//Vintage
Cardigan//Vintage
Shorts//Vintage BONGO, 1980s
Tights//Vera Wang for Kohl's
Shoes//Vintage
Handbag//Charming Charlie's

 

The Fading Rose

"Ask me no more where Jove bestows,

When June is past, the fading rose;

For in your beauty's orient deep

These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

"Ask me no more whither do stray

The golden atoms of the day;

For in pure love heaven did prepare

Those powders to enrich your hair.

"Ask me no more whither doth haste

The nightingale when May is past;

For in your sweet dividing throat

She winters and keeps warm her note.

"Ask me no more where those stars 'light

That downwards fall in dead of night;

For in your eyes they sit, and there

Fixed become as in their sphere.

"Ask me no more if east or west

The Phoenix builds her spicy nest;

For unto you at last she flies,

And in your fragrant bosom dies."

--- Thomas Carew

Details:

Photos by Josh.

Necklace//ModCloth

Sweater//The Quirky Poet

Dress//ModCloth

Bird Ring//Charlotte Russe

Handbag//Charming Charlie's
Change Purse//Vintage

Boots//Charlotte Russe

Tights//Vera Wang for Kohl's

A Wind With Fingers Goes

"They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,

Like petals from a rose,

"When suddenly across the June
A wind with fingers goes.

"They perished in the seamless grass,—

 No eye could find the place;

"But God on his repealless list     Can summon every face."

                                                      —— Emily Dickinson 

Details:

Photos taken by Josh.

Scarf//Hand-me-down

Blouse//Old Navy, Thrifted

Jacket//Vintage, 1980s

Skirt//Vintage, 1980s

Booties//ModCloth

Bracelets//Charlotte Russe

Cameo Ring//Antique

Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater

The EBEW assignment: to wear black and white. And I tried. I really did. But I have no black shoes! (Aside from this hideous pair of black combat boots that I only wear for utilitarian purposes.) Such an atrocity, I know. But here is my black and white outfit...with a sneaky pair of brown flats. (Please don't give me an F!)

How does an avid shopper like me end up with no black or white shoes? Well, I think I just get too distracted by the oddball shoes. I wear peach shoes with tassels on them. I'm the quirky poet, after all. I'm drawn to strange things by nature. Most times it takes effort for me to incorporate basics in my wardrobe, let alone an outfit compiled entirely of basics. It's a miracle that I have a LBD and black tights in my possession!

Mixing patterns and textures is easy for me. (Check out this pattern frenzy.) Wearing solid colors alone? Not so much. Part of me thinks I ought to work on this...another part (a larger part really) thinks that I should just be me and not worry about it.

Besides, if all these photos were in black and white, you wouldn't have been able to tell that I cheated.

Details:

Photos taken by Josh.

Blouse//Vintage, 1970s
Dress//Vintage, 1990s
Tights//Worthington
Shoes//Vintage via The Paraders
Handbag//Antique, 1950s
Bracelets//Charlotte Russe