Artist's Statement
I live my art the way city fog knows to swallow
something whole enough to make it seem
iridescent from a distance I live my art the way
my body follows the curves of landscape and my
mouth is stained cadmium
They ask me what happens when poets paint
I say that they turn scarlet
that my guts know how to be an artist
even when my hands forget
It's in the way trees sometimes argue
and crows come tell me stories
My art is stained in pinewood,
in turpentine, in lipstick, dead skin and
fox fur my art is a fist unclenching,
clenching, unfurling into poppies
My art is scraped knees on pavement
the way a wound opens so sweetly for
the dirt the way the dirt echoes the colours
in my blood
My art is a tongue, swollen, sprinkled in sugar
Licking the last bit of "Yes" off every surface
sometimes a canvas knows how to bury
the last bit of beautiful before I do
sometimes paper loves a beautiful thing
before I do
sometimes I am a beautiful thing
They ask me what happens when painters write
I say their spines become metaphors
For branches flinching then
bending to easels
then straightening to become
something unbent again
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Colour photo of a woman standing in front of a white wall. She is running a hand through her black curls. Her face is turned slightly away from the viewer.
ELISA VITA is a 19-year-old fine arts student living in Quebec, Canada. She is fascinated with the concept of Otherness and hopes to explore the beauty of the peculiar in both her writing and visual art. Her poetry has previously been featured in The Rising Phoenix Review. For more of her work visit her Instagram: @_elisavita_ and her Tumblr: inkchantments.tumblr.com.