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    …so I turned on the light: Poems by Antonio Merola

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    …andromeda whispers breathe as you go – Four poems by Michael Amitin

    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    The woman doesn’t want to wake up crazy: Selected poems by Mariya Grabovska

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    Three Poems from The Stony Guests – Neil P. Doherty

    LAUNCHING PAPER BOATS OF HOPE: Five Poems by Halyna Kruk

    LAUNCHING PAPER BOATS OF HOPE: Five Poems by Halyna Kruk

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    PHOENIX (Part III) – YIN Xiaoyuan

  • Fiction
    OCTOPUS – Nandini Sahu

    OCTOPUS – Nandini Sahu

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    THE SOUL AND THE BODY / DEHATMATATWA – Abhijit Sen

    Roble Negro – Lucia Cupertino

    Roble Negro – Lucia Cupertino

    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    The Dreaming Machine. Motherboard. A conversation with Zoè Gruni – Camilla Boemio

    The Door to My Inner Self: Four Prose Pieces by Abdallah Zrika

    Chapter ten, from”Come What May” by Ahmed Masoud

    Chapter ten, from”Come What May” by Ahmed Masoud

    Remembering Carla Macoggi: Excerpts from “Kkeywa- Storia di una bambina meticcia” and “Nemesi della rossa”

    Remembering Carla Macoggi: Excerpts from “Kkeywa- Storia di una bambina meticcia” and “Nemesi della rossa”

    In memoriam – Swimming in the Tigris, Greenford: The Poetical Journey of Fawzi Karim, by Marius Kociejowski

    The Naked Shell of Aloneness – Kazi Rafi

    Pioneer’s Portrait: How Voltaire Contributed to Comparative Literature, by Razu Alauddin    

    The Shadow of a Shadow – Nandini Sahu

  • Non Fiction
    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    Listening to Our Listening – Gary Whithed

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    SOME CONSIDERATIONS ON METHOD (Part I) – Gaius Tsaamo

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    “My family is gone,” she wrote, her voice silenced by the weight of her words – Hedaya Saleh Shamun

    Monumentalis. An aesthetical alchemist: Camilla Boemio interviews Marta Kucsora

    Mathematics As Poetic Thought; Sans Barbarian Evidence – Will Alexander

    Monumentalis. An aesthetical alchemist: Camilla Boemio interviews Marta Kucsora

    Lingual Mesmerism That Rises From Haunting Evidence – Will Alexander

    FUTURE PERFECT – IYA KIVA

    FUTURE PERFECT – IYA KIVA

  • Interviews & reviews
    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    Coordinates for a poetic debut. On “Allora ho acceso la luce” by Antonio Merola – Iuri Lombardi

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    BEING AS TRANSMUTATION: THE LIGHTNING PATHS OF WILL ALEXANDER – Andrew Joron

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    Understanding the Mathematical Metaphysics of Nandini Sahu’s Zero Point – Bhaskar Bhushan

    Monumentalis. An aesthetical alchemist: Camilla Boemio interviews Marta Kucsora

    Monumentalis. An aesthetical alchemist: Camilla Boemio interviews Marta Kucsora

    The Dreaming Machine. Motherboard. A conversation with Zoè Gruni – Camilla Boemio

    The Dreaming Machine. Motherboard. A conversation with Zoè Gruni – Camilla Boemio

    Everything Comes from the Soil: Painter Tendai Makufa Interviewed by Camilla Boemio

    Everything Comes from the Soil: Painter Tendai Makufa Interviewed by Camilla Boemio

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    That Elusive Orgasm – Nandini Sahu

    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    BOUNDARY/GONDI – Abhijit Sen

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    The Stony Guests: THE STORY – Neil P. Doherty

    Chapters Four and Five from La Cena (The Dinner) – Božidar Stanišić

    Chapters Four and Five from La Cena (The Dinner) – Božidar Stanišić

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    In Exile, War is Bitter – Hedaya Saleh Shamun

    My Annan’s Photo – Appadurai Muttulingam

    My Annan’s Photo – Appadurai Muttulingam

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    Of Farms, Poetry and Philosophy: Three Poems from Gary Whited’s Collection Being, There

    Of Farms, Poetry and Philosophy: Three Poems from Gary Whited’s Collection Being, There

    Films From Palestine: A Poem – Farah Ahamed

    Films From Palestine: A Poem – Farah Ahamed

  • News
    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5:  Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5: Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE  FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

  • Home
  • Poetry
    …so I turned on the light: Poems by Antonio Merola

    …so I turned on the light: Poems by Antonio Merola

    The Dreaming Machine. Motherboard. A conversation with Zoè Gruni – Camilla Boemio

    …andromeda whispers breathe as you go – Four poems by Michael Amitin

    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    The woman doesn’t want to wake up crazy: Selected poems by Mariya Grabovska

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    Three Poems from The Stony Guests – Neil P. Doherty

    LAUNCHING PAPER BOATS OF HOPE: Five Poems by Halyna Kruk

    LAUNCHING PAPER BOATS OF HOPE: Five Poems by Halyna Kruk

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    PHOENIX (Part III) – YIN Xiaoyuan

  • Fiction
    OCTOPUS – Nandini Sahu

    OCTOPUS – Nandini Sahu

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    THE SOUL AND THE BODY / DEHATMATATWA – Abhijit Sen

    Roble Negro – Lucia Cupertino

    Roble Negro – Lucia Cupertino

    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    The Dreaming Machine. Motherboard. A conversation with Zoè Gruni – Camilla Boemio

    The Door to My Inner Self: Four Prose Pieces by Abdallah Zrika

    Chapter ten, from”Come What May” by Ahmed Masoud

    Chapter ten, from”Come What May” by Ahmed Masoud

    Remembering Carla Macoggi: Excerpts from “Kkeywa- Storia di una bambina meticcia” and “Nemesi della rossa”

    Remembering Carla Macoggi: Excerpts from “Kkeywa- Storia di una bambina meticcia” and “Nemesi della rossa”

    In memoriam – Swimming in the Tigris, Greenford: The Poetical Journey of Fawzi Karim, by Marius Kociejowski

    The Naked Shell of Aloneness – Kazi Rafi

    Pioneer’s Portrait: How Voltaire Contributed to Comparative Literature, by Razu Alauddin    

    The Shadow of a Shadow – Nandini Sahu

  • Non Fiction
    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    Listening to Our Listening – Gary Whithed

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    SOME CONSIDERATIONS ON METHOD (Part I) – Gaius Tsaamo

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    “My family is gone,” she wrote, her voice silenced by the weight of her words – Hedaya Saleh Shamun

    Monumentalis. An aesthetical alchemist: Camilla Boemio interviews Marta Kucsora

    Mathematics As Poetic Thought; Sans Barbarian Evidence – Will Alexander

    Monumentalis. An aesthetical alchemist: Camilla Boemio interviews Marta Kucsora

    Lingual Mesmerism That Rises From Haunting Evidence – Will Alexander

    FUTURE PERFECT – IYA KIVA

    FUTURE PERFECT – IYA KIVA

  • Interviews & reviews
    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    Coordinates for a poetic debut. On “Allora ho acceso la luce” by Antonio Merola – Iuri Lombardi

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    BEING AS TRANSMUTATION: THE LIGHTNING PATHS OF WILL ALEXANDER – Andrew Joron

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    Understanding the Mathematical Metaphysics of Nandini Sahu’s Zero Point – Bhaskar Bhushan

    Monumentalis. An aesthetical alchemist: Camilla Boemio interviews Marta Kucsora

    Monumentalis. An aesthetical alchemist: Camilla Boemio interviews Marta Kucsora

    The Dreaming Machine. Motherboard. A conversation with Zoè Gruni – Camilla Boemio

    The Dreaming Machine. Motherboard. A conversation with Zoè Gruni – Camilla Boemio

    Everything Comes from the Soil: Painter Tendai Makufa Interviewed by Camilla Boemio

    Everything Comes from the Soil: Painter Tendai Makufa Interviewed by Camilla Boemio

  • Out of bounds
    • All
    • Fiction
    • Intersections
    • Interviews and reviews
    • Non fiction
    • Poetry
    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    That Elusive Orgasm – Nandini Sahu

    The Wait – Bitasta Ghoshal

    BOUNDARY/GONDI – Abhijit Sen

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    The Stony Guests: THE STORY – Neil P. Doherty

    Chapters Four and Five from La Cena (The Dinner) – Božidar Stanišić

    Chapters Four and Five from La Cena (The Dinner) – Božidar Stanišić

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    In Exile, War is Bitter – Hedaya Saleh Shamun

    My Annan’s Photo – Appadurai Muttulingam

    My Annan’s Photo – Appadurai Muttulingam

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    WRITTEN ON THE TONGUE – Andrew Joron

    Of Farms, Poetry and Philosophy: Three Poems from Gary Whited’s Collection Being, There

    Of Farms, Poetry and Philosophy: Three Poems from Gary Whited’s Collection Being, There

    Films From Palestine: A Poem – Farah Ahamed

    Films From Palestine: A Poem – Farah Ahamed

  • News
    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    HAIR IN THE WIND – Calling on poets to join international project in solidarity with the women of Iran

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    THE DREAMING MACHINE ISSUE N. 11 WILL BE OUT ON DEC. 10

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    RUCKSACK – GLOBAL POETRY PATCHWORK PROJECT

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5:  Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    REFUGEE TALES July 3-5: Register for a Walk In Solidarity with Refugees, Asylum Seekers and Detainees

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    IL BIANCO E IL NERO – LE PAROLE PER DIRLO, Conference Milan Sept. 7

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE  FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

    OPEN POEM TO THE CURATORS OF THE 58th VENICE BIENNALE FROM THE GHOSTS OF THAT RELIC YOU SHOULD NOT DARE CALL “OUR BOAT” (Pina Piccolo)

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Silence in the Museum – Mia Funk

November 27, 2023
in Fiction, The dreaming machine n 3
Silence in the Museum – Mia Funk
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‘LOOK AT HER EYES. They’re empty. You can tell she’s really cold or probably never had an orgasm in her life. It’s typical of women of that period. Look at her skin, it’s all blotchy. Probably has some STD. And those hands, they’re more like claws. How could you expect any man to sleep with that./But she’s got a beautiful neck and hairline./If you like double chins./Yeah, but you mostly look at the face. I know I wouldn’t want to./I bet she was a bitch in real life. That little mean mouth. The way it curls up in the corners. More like a smirk./That’s what she’s doing. She’s just smirking at us./She’s not the Mona Lisa, that’s for sure./Hardly./More like the moan./Look at all that gold. Probably had lots of money and got some old whoremaster to pay a mediocre painter to do her portrait just to play into her vanity. They did that a lot then. It was kind a 19th century selfie./She has a nice balcony./They always exaggerated their breasts, made them look more comely./How old would you say she is there?/I’d say under thirty./You think so?/I’d say she’s more in her mid to late forties. Look at the suggestion of the crows feet in her eyes, and that hand is slightly freckled. You see the age spot near the thumb./That could be foxing from age. Or the oil discolouring the canvas from too much sun exposure./Still, I love the dress. Those pinks and greens are so feminine. It’s a pity we don’t dress like that anymore./I think that’s why men used be more horny in those days, trying to get their hands under all those garments to grab your buttocks./You’re obsessed./Imagine if she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt––she’d look like shit.’

 

The things people say when they don’t think you’re listening. It’s horrible. I try to turn off, but it’s hard. ‘I don’t like her face, she’s not ugly, I don’t know what it is, I just don’t like it.’ ‘At the time she must have been considered pretty otherwise why would he have painted her, but not by today’s standards.’ ‘Do you know what her relationship was with the painter?’ ‘It doesn’t say in the catalogue.’ ‘Do you think they were involved?’ ‘Hey, look at the flush on her breasts. Looks like they just had sex.’ ‘Or were about to have it.’

Most people don’t get a chance to hear what others say behind their backs, but me, it’s all I ever hear. Half of them come here to stare at my breasts. One is visible through my blouse. The suggestion of a nipple. Sometimes they reach out and try to touch it. Kids who come with their mothers can’t help themselves, they sneak a stroke when she’s not looking, and I don’t say anything. I let them get away with it. I’m 176 years old, you get attention where you can find it. It’s nice to still feel appreciated.

Not all the visitors are the same. There’s one, he’s come a few times, he’s different. I can tell he wants me.

And I am appreciated, it’s not all insults, I just tend to remember those. Some people find me beautiful, intriguing even. I remember one said, ‘her eyes sparkle with the intelligence of Caligula’. ‘Her smile has a secret. Mischief,’ that’s what one critic said. I heard the tour guide reading from a book. It made me blush.

‘Do you think she’s pregnant?’ this know-it-all turns to his companion who seems to be considering it.

‘Look at the way she’s holding her fan. It’s like she’s hiding something.’

Alright, enough about my weight.

 

None of their guesses are right, of course. I was no rich man’s mistress. No one’s illegitimate child, nor the artist in disguise. I am a nobody. I was momentarily loved by the painter, then he moved on, and I was forgotten, shoved into the back closet until I was found and sold as one of the painter’s ‘unknown women’. There’s a few of us in this room like that.

Madame Celeste was put away for safe keeping during the war and forgotten, only rediscovered recently. She was damaged a little, a masonry nail gauged her neck. They cleaned her up and covered the scar, but I don’t think she’ll ever be the same. Subject of a new documentary. Over fifty years in the dark, it’s got to leave you shell-shocked.

It’s the same with the pastels on level three. Kept in a windowless room in the semi-darkness. I wonder if they even know the difference between day or night.

 

This place is full of pick up artists! Stylishly malnourished in their black spectacles and scraggily goatees. Check out this one channeling a Van Gogh beard, trying to look like a vagabond you’d find sleeping under a haystack. Last week his goatee was plain old mouse brown, now it’s red. Trying to pick up earnest young co-eds, repeating phrases he lifted from the catalogue and passing them off as his own opinions. But he doesn’t fool me. He’s been doing it for years.

 

They are about to close up our section of the gallery for renovations. All of us will be put into storage for a year. All except Portrait of an Unknown Lady, 1865, she’ll probably go on loan. She’s always travelling, the little tart. So made-up and of dubious provenance. Has had ‘extensive restoration’, that’s art historian speak for she’s had work done. But they fall for it just the same. The way she gives the evil eye to everyone who comes in the room.

I don’t envy her, I don’t. Beauty like that attracts a special brand of weirdo. I remember one, used to sit on a bench opposite her with his box of charcoals on his lap. It was obvious to everyone what he was doing, tossing his ‘etchings’. He got thrown out after a schoolgirl sat down next to him and reported him for indecency.

 

My best friend was stolen last year. They took her in broad daylight. Cut her out of the frame and walked out. I always knew security was too lax. They got her back in a few months. Now she’s surrounded by glass and a permanent guard and has cameras trained on her. It must be hard to be taken so violently, and yet when it happened a part of me thought: maybe she’s lucky. Rolled up in a tube and carried on the back of some young leather-jacketed man on a motorcycle, on her way to be held as security for a drug lord or a weird obsessed collector who’d burned for her all his life. Imagine.

The last time I was loved that way was when he was painting me. And then when he was finished, he took me off the easel and added me to his stack of paintings and unfinished ideas and forgot all about me.

He was the very first man I was with and I think, if there’s something that would make my portrait special, it’s that sense of discovery in my eyes. I am embarrassed and naked, but I didn’t know enough then to realise how vulnerable I was. The painter put himself in the picture too, reflected in the smoky mirror. Barely there. I could never tell if he was smiling or laughing at some stupid girlish thing I said, and it’s the same with his expression in the mirror. Is it a smile or is he mocking me?

 

I know they are coming for me, but I don’t know when. I could tell because he and his colleague spent so long in the room not looking at me. Stopping in front of almost every other painting except mine. The painter was like that too, as soon as he decided he wanted to seduce me, he went about avoiding me.

I think it’s going to be tonight. No particular reason. Something just feels…And you know what, I’m looking forward to it. I can’t wait to escape. Maybe after midnight they’ll come. When it gets quiet here, there’s no other silence like it.

 

 

The Thief takes out a knife and makes four quick cuts and just like that I’m being rolled up and travelling in a sack on his back, in the dead of night, on my way to some unknown collector who will probably hide me away for the rest of my life. From one prison to another. And yet in this moment I feel free, almost weightless as the motorcycle takes fast and risky bends and skirts the darkness, and I want it to last, but know it can’t and as we cross over the small bridge, the wind traveling through me like a tunnel, I coil up tight and then let myself spring out, floating over the cool night air like a parachute, drifting up once more over the rushing water before crashing onto the sharp rocks below.

 

 

 

Mia Funk is an artist, writer, interviewer and founder of The Creative Process traveling exhibition and international educational initiative. Her portraits of writers and artists appear in many public collections, including the U.S. Library of Congress, Dublin Writers Museum, Office of Public Works, American Writers Museum (forthcoming), and other museums and culture centers.
As a writer and interviewer, she contributes to various national publications. She served on the National Advisory Council of the American Writers Museum 2016-17. Funk has received many awards and honors, including the Prix de Peinture from the Salon d’Automne de Paris and has exhibited at the Grand Palais, Paris. She was commissioned by the Guinness Cork Jazz Festival to paint their 30th-anniversary commemorative painting of over 20 jazz legends. Her paintings of Francis Bacon and Lucian Freud won the Thames & Hudson Pictureworks Prize, were nominated for Aesthtica Magazine’s Art Prize, and were exhibited in Brussels for Bacon’s centenary, in Paris at the American University, as well as international arts festivals in Europe.
The Creative Process is honored to welcome The Dreaming Machine to our network of international literary journals publishing our interviews. Creative works by Dreaming Machine writers also joins contributors from over fifty countries featured in the projection elements of our traveling exhibition.
The Creative Process exhibition is being held at leading universities, culture centers, libraries, and museums around the world. If you or your organization would like more information on participating in The Creative Process, contact mia@creativeprocess.info .

 

 

Cover image: Original artwork by Mia Funk.

Tags: artworldcharactercollectorscreativityimaginationinspirationironyMia Funkmodelmuseumpaintingpoint of viewshort storythiefvoice
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HAIR IN THE WIND we  invite all poets from all countries to be part of the artistic-poetic performance HAIR IN...

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