THE POETRY OF ARCHITECTURE
(The Desert Woman ~ May 2008)

“As an architect, my life has been governed by the goal of building environmental harmony, functional efficiency, and human enhancement into the experience of everyday living.”
                                                                        Richard Neutra, Architect

Is this not living poetry?  During “Modernism Week” at the Palm Springs Art Museum, I attended the opening for the exhibit of mid-twentieth-century architectural photographer Julius Shulman.  His photographs reflect the glamour and casual elegance of life in the desert in what could then be called the “fast track” ~ although it was a two lane road when Hollywood first discovered its new Paradise.
 
It was exciting to see through the lens of a master how Palm Springs developed because of the forces operating in the early to mid-twentieth-century.  Not only automobiles and movie stars but accessibility and climate came together to have the right people in the right place with the creative skills to bring about a powerful, poetically designed community. 
 
I had especially wanted to hear architectural historian and long-time friend Alan Hess share information about the artists and their designs ~ who they were and how they came to develop their modernistic style.  I gained a renewed appreciation for what Alan calls “the light pavilions of Frey, the abstractions of Neutra, the earthy shelter of Lloyd Wright, the indigenous veneers of Stewart Williams.”
 
But what really made the poet in me jump to attention was when exhibition curator Michael Stern said that Richard Neutra’s iconic Kaufmann House, probably one of the best known mid-twentieth-century Modern examples, is being sold at auction May 13th by Christie’s in New York as an “art piece!”  The epiphany shot through me with twenty-first century speed.  There is poetry in architecture!  I actually live in a poem within a poetic village ~ “the Mecca of mid-century modern architecture.” 
 
I began to think in metaphors about the light, shadow, angle, and design of concrete and glass houses.  I adore the imagery of butterfly roofs, low-slung structures planted in sand, the restaurant with a tree literally growing through the roof, and a bank building with pillars more dramatic than anything I have seen in Greece. 
 
The good news is that many of these homes and professional buildings remain today or are in the process of being restored.  Others perhaps have had their glory days and are gone, to be replaced with a contemporary version of Modern.
 
But, the crème de la crème of my special museum evening was when I turned to talk to the lovely young woman sitting next to me in the Annenberg Theater.  Out of almost a thousand people attending the lecture and reception, she was the representative from Christie’s who had come to view the Kaufmann House!  Poor thing, she was immediately bombarded by her babbling seat mate about Poetic Living.  She graciously answered my questions and later sent me their elegant sale brochure that is an art piece in itself.
 
I am thinking that I just may have to go to New York and watch the auction action.  I won’t hold a numbered paddle or take my checkbook for an eight figure sum, but I will be the one with the gloating look on my face because I live just blocks from the poetic piece of art called the Kaufmann House.
 
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BIRTH OF A POET
(The Desert Woman ~ August 2007)

I remember the moment I became a poet. 

Sitting on my patio just weeks after a devastating automobile accident in 1997, the darkness of depression seemed more real than the lightness of the exquisite desert day.  In an instant a Monarch butterfly landed on the arm of my chair ~ so close I could actually see its eyes.

As I watched, I observed strong color, lively gentleness, and intelligent freedom in this charming creature that I had never truly appreciated before.  My metaphor was immediate.  "I want to be a butterfly!"  Then the similes took over, "I want to move like a butterfly, feel as gentle as a butterfly, and spread the joy of a butterfly."  Thus, my muse rose to my defense and my first poem, "The Butterfly Touch," was born.

From that hour, the thoughts of discouragement and fear of the future began to recede like shadows at noon.  I had discovered a noble way to record my feelings and insights, even though at first in feeble and contrived rhyme.  Back on the road again, my poetic journey into the art and the craft of poetry took me to a local critique group.  I had to learn the humble lesson of having my "baby" poems discussed, analyzed, judged and (yikes) even criticized!  I also attended several writing conferences and the next year enrolled in a summer workshop program at Indiana University.

My world expanded and amazing changes took place with each new poem.  People wanted to read my words and my poetry actually became good enough to let them!  I discovered free verse, lyrical and narrative poetry, and how to recognize good rhyme.

Authoring two books, dozens of speaking engagements, and extensive travel filled the next several years.  As I was standing before an intimate audience in a Paris bookstore / café reading my own poetry from my own book ~ and later lecturing to large classes of English language students in both Beijing and Shanghai, China, I would think "How did a little farm girl from Illinois get to a place like this?" 

The Answer: A Butterfly.

THE BUTTERFLY TOUCH

How gently the butterfly makes its rounds,
touching each leaf with no harsh sounds.
The beauty of its colored wings
expresses a joy that sings
a song of Life, just to be,
whose only purpose is to see
all God's creatures loved so much,
can live their lives with the butterfly touch.
As we travel our world from place to place,
we too can move with this butterfly grace.
Wherever we go, however we pray,
opens the way for a butterfly day.

Dessa Reed

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MY CHINA TRIP
(The Desert Woman ~ January 2006)

Have you ever had an experience that was so BIG that it took you a while afterwards to figure out what in the world happened?  I just spent nearly three weeks in China and am still in awe of the adventure.  I was invited to be a delegate at the United Poets Laureate International 19th World Congress held in Tai'an, a city sacred to poets. We were hosted and "officially approved" by the Ministry of Cultures, People's Republic of China, and China International Culture of Publicity Center.  It was the first such exchange ever held in China. 

One extraordinary day we took a tram (just like Palm Springs) and then climbed the steps of holy Mt. Tai to hold a poetry reading from 4,000 feet.  Our pictures appeared in the newspapers (surrounded by Chinese characters so I have no idea what it said).

Aside from sightseeing and entertainment on a grand scale, along with 25 course banquets, we had an afternoon of learning about Asian sonnets.  We were also introduced to a new poetic form called Hsinku that integrates poetry with oil painting.  The UPLI president, Dr. Kenneth Fan, who made all the arrangements for our visit, founded this new school of poetry.  In his words: "Hsinku poems are a liberation of more than 1,000 years of Chinese poetry traditional restrictions."

Dr. Fan's Mother, a poet known as "Model Mother," is 100 years old and attended many of the events.  She would sit stoically at the head table, listening to long speeches (and their translation) and then when asked to read one of her poems, she would stand ~ to be transformed into a powerful presence.  I love to watch when poetry makes that happen!

Poetry has a rich heritage and is highly appreciated in China.  We were treated like celebrities ~ even asked for our autographs!  I guess because I am tall and blonde (and a poet from America) I was constantly surrounded by enthusiastic Chinese who wanted my card plus a picture taken with me.  (It was hard to come home to, "Dessa who?")

Although there was Chinese media coverage about the forum, as far as I know, there was none elsewhere.  Not that I expected to be on CNN but it would have been nice for the world to know that this so-called closed society is opening its cultural doors to the message of poets, writers, and artists from around the world.

I have dear local friends who lived in China some years ago so they gave me several delightful contacts in both Beijing and Shanghai.  After the Congress, I went back to Beijing for some touring and gave a lecture on poetry at a foreign language university.  There were over 100 English-major Chinese students who were probably the most attentive audience I have ever had.  I also spoke to two high schools in Shanghai and found the same thing ~ eagerness to learn and rapt attention.  They bombarded me with questions afterwards.

Alan, a senior at Jin Cai High School in Shanghai, slipped the following poem to me after my talk.  Although I do not know its source, it touched my heart.

I will give you whatever
I will miss you whenever
I will be with you wherever
I'm not the best however
I love you forever

That is the way I feel about the whole trip and everyone I met of every nationality.  I will love them forever.