upcoming grant deadline: 05/15/2018

upcoming grant deadline: 05/15/2018

Jeanne Obbard

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The artistic process is both mysterious and mundane. Mundane in the sense that every poem begins as doubts, clichés, comments on the weather. Mysterious because at some point, the poem hidden in the rough draft begins to write itself. The act of revision must be both particular and loose, for the nascent poem is its own map or guideline; it has an intrinsic logic of rhythm and thought. A poem is successful when it becomes what it wants to be, rather than what I think it should be. A poem is about perception. Maybe the individual perception seems like a small thing: for a moment, I gave all my attention to this tree, this sky. Nevertheless, to write this moment of attention is a spiritually charged act: it insists that there is meaning in all that we experience; it is an expression of faith in the numinous.

from FOR FOX

Once I mourned for this:
that I had been deprived
of an honest memory of the dead.
There is no such thing as an honest memory.
The love you feel is one thing
and the loved is something else.

At evening I ride the train
and fall into a reverie
like a grudging drawn-out apocalypse.
Going to visit the nearly dead, I tell myself
it is more fitting to visit at sunset,
that I am not wanted tomorrow anyway,
that three people
standing over one small cat is ridiculous,
and I would have to back away,
and take my hand off her,
and pretend that I bear witness.
I would have to
let someone else's hands
usher her to the threshold, which,
even a threshold for a small cat,
is bigger than we
can traverse against our time. Or maybe it's
smaller, maybe Fox
will get down on her belly and narrow her whole self
to the pupil inside her one good eye,
the pupil growing smaller and smaller
as the light grows big. Maybe she will
slip through like a beam of light, or a single
electron in an electron-sized gate.
Where she falls on the other side,
whether she is many places at once,
we have no memory for.

This is what the train makes me think:
that there isn't, in fact, any more
than this motion through time,
that the roses and the tenements
are each unknown,
that we know them
by a shadow of a shadow,
that we know them
by a reflection of light in our pupils,
and upside down at that.
How do we know,
in our squirrel-warren brains,
to turn things right-side up at all?


Leeway grant?

Leeway Transformation Award

The Transformation Award provides unrestricted annual awards of $15,000 to women and trans* artists and cultural producers living in Greater Philadelphia who create art for social change and have done so for the past five years or more, demonstrating a long-term commitment to social change work. [read more]

deadline 05/15
Upcoming events
06/111:00 pm - 2:00 pm

Grant Info Session in West Chester

Are you thinking about applying for the Art and Change Grant or the Leeway Transformation Award but not sure of how to go about it? Join us for one of these information sessions to learn how to prepare your application for the 2018 grants. 

[learn more]

06/137:00 pm - 8:30 pm

12x12: Gabriela Sanchez

What is an invisible disability? Do you have one, the person sitting next to you? The Hidden Disabilities Project will be Power Street Theatre Company’s next foray into experimental theatre making. With this new and exciting piece created by the only Women of Color led theatre company in Philadelphia, take an immersive journey exploring the gray areas of having an invisible disability in a black and white world.

[learn more]