audrey dimola[art for the wild]

Posts Tagged ‘truth

Screen Shot 2017-12-09 at 11.33.28 AM

touch my mouth with your hands
touch my mouth with your hands
oh i want to understand
the meaning of your embrace
i know now i have to face, the temptations of my past
please don’t let me disgrace
where my devotion lays
now that i know the truth, now that it’s no excuse
keeping me from your love, what was i thinking of?
holding me from your love, what was i thinking of?

thank you lauryn. you are brilliant.

///

my words. #fromtoday.

sister fire spoke to me
she said put the antler back around your neck
know that there is a purpose in all you do
you get lost to get found you get lost to get found, girl
to show you yourself over and over that you can.
that you can.
sitting here with flickering flames in cups
salt lamp emanating radiance my hands
to your mouth put your hands to my mouth
let me remember how to pray
let me honor my own radiance
let me remember how to pray
there is darkness darkness only dark
down well-worn paths in my cognitive loops
i say pull the axe from the thornbush righteous one
i say cut i say cut a new way
you were not meant to die in darkness, my love
you were not meant to die right here
i know you want to lay until the vines steal your breath
take you back to where you came from heal the heart
returned to earth but i say i say my child
you must believe that the righteousness of the warrior
is inside your very being
i say go on you don’t need your eyes your hands
you do not need your feet or legs
you need the whole body burning spirit
led by your heart
my girl i say pick up the axe my love
and cut that new way
cut that new new new way
do not be disillusioned, heartbroken from
finding your way back here
she sings he’s just like water
she’s just like water
you are her she is him
sanctified these candle flames
in cups this salt rock glow on my lips
bid me to speak my love
let me remember how to live
stuck in the vines my girl
curled in the vines my girl
you have to get up
you have to get up
not wait for the light
cut a hole to the light
not wait for the light
cut a hole to the light
come on.
come on and on and on
crumpling days of protection
solar plexus you forget your
intention to grab your
bunches of feathers
jump that cliff and
commit to soar
the vines are growing around you, girl
the vines are stealing your breath, girl
what will you do?
what will you do?
do not be disillusioned by ending up here again
the candle flames in cups the salt rock lamp
we always heal in spirals
it’s the only way to find our way back
we always heal in spirals
it’s the only way to find our way back
do not be angry at your constitution
at your weakness at your ache
another man almost stole the life of you
but the bone in your backbone is back
not stiff but fluid not braced for impact but
impactful, my love
the only thing you can collapse into
is gentleness
is gentleness
is love
touch my mouth with your hands
my mother father goddess
touch my mouth with your hands
let me speak these words i
fought my way here to say
i will not die buried in the vines
i will not die buried in the vines
i will cut my own way.
someone once said
there is a way to die a
spiritual death
there is a way to
remember your lips
pressed
to the holiness
of a creator that
loves you
that you can finally
feel
because you finally
love yourself back
take yourself back
my girl my heart
be gentle if it seems like
it’s perpetually
on the mend
give it some time
you always fighting fires
making fires
spreading fires
keep the warmth
remember that the
next fire your spirit wants to feel is
the sun on your skin
on the other side of this
tunnel of black dark
my love
we can only heal in spirals
it’s the only way we can
find our way back.
i can only heal in spirals
it’s the only way i was able to
find my way back.

///

Screen Shot 2017-12-09 at 11.33.06 AM

“see fantasy is what people want, but reality is what they need.. and i just retired from the fantasy part.”

///

“at that point, i had to do some dying.”

“artists do fall apart,” a record executive says. “the most commonly held falsity in the game is that they have it all together. they fall apart. […] they all have a moment where you go, ‘are they really all there?’ and i think lauryn chose to expose that to the world.”

bless up, queen.

bless up, brothers & sisters.

XO

a.

[[shows + events // what’s coming up]]

Advertisements

Screen Shot 2017-11-14 at 8.12.31 PM.png

i speak for the addicted
i speak for the mentally ill
i speak for those who need the woods to survive
i speak for the little girl who forgets she is a wildwoman
i speak for the lost boys and lost girls
i speak for those writing poems into a voice recorder while they ride their bike
i speak for those who won’t smile because they feel guilty
i speak for those who take responsibility for everything
i speak for the savage heart and the sacred life, the sacred breath
i speak for the roots who are constantly doing their work even though you can’t see them
i speak for the trees who are constantly purifying even if you don’t thank them
i speak for the fire on my altar who had to burn things to show them to me
i speak for the birds
i speak for nature who just states facts
i speak for all those who ride their bikes without holding onto the handlebars because it makes them remember there was a time when they knew how to be free
i speak for remembering to be free
i speak for the initiation, for the woman who was initiated, for the initiated woman
i speak for all those who are ashamed of what they’ve been through
i speak for all those who are afraid to be crazy
i speak for all those who take responsibility for themselves, who remember it is we and only we who can write our own legend
i speak for the cracking open and the sewing up with golden thread, healed
i speak for the alchemists
i speak for the wild ones
i speak for the fools
i speak for the messengers
i am the messenger
i speak for the cards in the tarot deck
i speak for the constellations
i speak for free will
i speak for the sins of the father and of the mother and how those sins are not ours
i speak for trying to take care of everyone else and never taking care of yourself
i speak for long bike rides in the cold because you know it will bring you closer to the tribe
i speak for the tribe
i speak of the tribe
i speak with the tribe
i stand by the tribe
i speak for going slower instead of faster

i speak for writing a poem on your bike and almost crashing into construction
i speak for reconstruction
i speak for reconfiguration
i speak for readjusting- to go forth, healed
i speak for the stolen generation
i speak for our shared history
i speak for the mother goddess
i speak for the divine feminine with the divine feminine as the divine feminine
i speak for finding a way back home
i speak for light, for legacy, for justice for myself
i speak for feathers on the ground
i speak for shamanism
i speak for poets
i speak for healing
i speak for trauma
i speak for forgiveness
i speak for recognition
i speak for sight
i speak for self worth- not because, or when, or if
i speak not of conditions
i speak of pain
i speak of grieving
i speak for grieving
i speak for duration
i speak for patience
i speak for balancing your elements, child
not just fire, not just wind- but earth. but water
i speak for power, strategy, and protection- of identifying your body through your body, your own body, your self
i speak for the metaphysical orgasm
i speak for the body but only because i listened when she talks i listen when she talks i listen when she talks and i hear her- now
i speak for my beautiful brain and its shadows- and its light
i speak for the altar in my heart- sacred blood that keeps it pumping
i speak for the scars
i speak for my river and my mountain and my rebirth and my reclamation
i speak for my goddess, my scientist, my wise woman, my self
i speak for all the children who think they don’t have a voice
i speak for all the children forced to keep their family’s secrets
i speak for all the adults forced to keep their family’s secrets
i speak for all the adults forced to keep their own secrets, in shame
i speak for the anesthetization of the body
i speak for the shaking
i speak for the wakening up
i speak for the howling out windows
i speak for the graffiti on the roof
i speak for the flapping of wings
i speak for the falling on your knees, praying into the earth
i speak for the cycle of life/death/life
i speak for the codependent
i speak for those that just want to be happy
i speak for those that just want to be loved
i speak for all those who think they’re not good enough for any of it
i speak for the man perched on the triboro bridge that night
i speak for my self, wailing in the night when you went missing
i speak for the sadness, for the depressed, the anxious, the manic, the bipolar, the suicidal urge- and the will that keeps us here
i speak for the hunger in my body, the restlessness in my soul that reminds me constantly there is a deeper nourishment that i must tap into- a nourishment beyond accolades, sustenance, sex, adoration
it is wild and it is free and it is whole and it comes out of me when i sing, when i let my rattle move, when i give my body to dancing, when i give my body-
safety
beauty
tribe
protection
Love with a capital L
i speak as the fierce prayer that is my life
i speak as the warrior
i speak as the gentleness
i speak as the transfiguration
i speak as the roots and the bearing fruit
i speak for the dead and for the living, and the dead who are alive, and the alive who are dead
i speak for the words on walls
i speak for the crown in the heart
i speak for the silence
i speak for the blue sky
i speak for the infinite abundance
i speak with the breath that creates the living word
i speak now and for every other day i am granted to be here
i speak for the plants that crack through the sidewalk
i speak the medicine
i am the medicine
i am the heart on fire flying eagle spirit
i am the fact that even as this prayer poem ends, it will reverberate-
create your echoes- brothers, sisters
create your echoes everywhere you walk-
find harmony
wildness
and acceptance
and bravery
and goodness
and truth
AHO.
– transcribed exactly as recorded into my phone while riding my bike, astoria to bed stuy, 11.12.17

Screen Shot 2017-11-14 at 8.13.11 PM.png

‘i liked what you said about rewriting your legacy.’
‘you got to. because if you don’t, someone else will.’

XO

a.

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.24.20 AM

go slowly, see miracles opens fri 5/20/16 from 6-10pm in 43-01 21st street in long island city but will be on view 12-6pm on saturday 5/21 and sunday 5/22!

it’s a little after 2 in the morning and less than an hour ago i returned home from day 3 of my install for LIC arts open 6. sitting down at this blank page (computer screen?!) words just can’t seem to do it justice. carolina and richard from LICAO- thank you, thank you for this opportunity..

this is more than a project, an art installation, a room transformation.. it’s a commemoration. a milestone. this was one of those things- it emerged out of dreams, experiences, words, darkness. to think that- earlier this year, i was in a place where i couldn’t recognize myself, at all. the changes in my life completely displaced me- the decisions, the goodbyes, the wild adventures, the woods, the farms, the art, the risks, all certainty became uncertainty, grounded to a sudden halt. all unfamiliar, hollow, numb. i perceived the disassociation as a new norm.. but out of that darkness- came the beginnings of this. i’m a lifelong writer but also a lifelong artist. when words failed me- i worked with my hands. i worked with scratches and tears, collage, mixed media, the mysticism of found objects, ink and smears, fire. golden paint like byzantine halos. earthen material. the things i couldn’t say- i created. it was the only thing i could do, at that moment.

we often get stuck in our own spheres.. i am a poet- i use voice, i use words. that’s who i am. it’s scary and uncomfortable to own another role (in this case- installation artist), and we so often hesitate. paralyzed by judgment of self and imagined from others.. yet my longing to expand remained. poetry in three dimensions materialized while creating ‘art for the wild’ with my brilliant sister april- found poetry, tearing up books, collaging with images onto wood, onto painted glass bottles, inspiration stones. THE WILD PAPERS in collaboration with some beautiful friends was my first site-specific experience in the theatrical/performative realm- i carry it with me everyday. but i have wanted to create a world of my own since before the conception of that show.. a space i could transform. fairy lights. jungle greenery. hideaways. wonderland.

the roots of this project are deep- but somehow deepest at the moments when i felt my own nearly ripped out from under me. the fact that i am here, in realtime- three days into the installation of that world i dreamed of, the world i laid the foundations of in one of the deepest darknesses i have ever experienced.. the vision is becoming real. the vision is challenging, humbling, emotional, electric, frustrating, EXCITING. BEAUTIFUL. WILD. but it is all mine. my ladder climbs. my sharpie words. my mirror shards. my relics. my tangles. what will you think when you see it? what will you feel? what will the reception be..?

for me, this is not just an installation. it’s the identity i swore i’d lost. the legend i swore i’d lost at the beginning of 2016. my heart, my memories, my story- in three dimensions. in a space. in a world. i feel like i’ve created neverland and now i can go home again.. yet it takes creating something OUTWARDLY to realize that it has always existed INWARDLY.. creation is an incredible thing.

over and over.. you recreate from the ashes. you honor where you’ve been. ’go slowly, see miracles’ is my chance to do that. to prove to myself that i can survive. that i have survived. and i can trust these hands, this head, this heart- to carry me into what will soon be my 30th year on earth.

i choose life. i choose immortality. i choose wildness. gratitude. grace. a prayer of thanks to THE WONDER and the beauty of losing and finding and losing and finding it again.

thank you for being a part of my story.. come see it in front of your eyes this friday, 6pm at the opening for the 43-01 21st st building, filled with incredible art of myriad mediums and 2 other immersive installations.

thank you// mama always. my family. amazing april. scott weiland. nahko bear. ‘to the wonder.’ marcus & zuko. daddy. kristine. j. syd. sana. joan. nick. everyone who finds my writing in the street. the friends who looked for me. the words that saved me. riley, isabella, cristiano, layla. the woods. the ocean. pluf. chris mccandless. jen & TYR. my patron saint peter pan. my guardian angel nana. my TRIBE. LICAO. and the darkness that almost beat me.. for showing me how bright i can be.

[[SO MUCH MORE is going on in LICAO 2016, check out the booklet for all event & exhibition listings! festival runs may 18-22

scenes from the journey thus far… (click on the videos to play them!)

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.03.07 AM

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.02.57 AM

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.24.30 AM

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.02.36 AM

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.23.33 AM

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.24.03 AM

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.02.21 AM

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.01.49 AM

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.01.16 AM

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.01.04 AM

reflections from tonight:

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.00.27 AM

Screen Shot 2016-05-19 at 3.00.14 AM

{insert really loud peter pan crow here}

XO

a.

polarbear

yes, there were many joyful things mixed with the blood. – clarice lispector.

sometimes all we can offer are the words. sometimes all we have are the words. and for that i am grateful. this came to me like a wild mother, like a hand of profound power and gentle grace. she is what is comforting me in this moment of uncertainty- all deep breaths and strangeness. below is only a portion of this piece- my hand wouldn’t stop moving. i know this will play a part in annunciation, my third offering to the world- this word that has been following me around in different forms, different adventures, different creatures- since the summer. a friend and fellow poetess told me that doing the polar bear plunge is “good for the guides.” i had no idea how right she was. the door to this opened when i tried to start writing about myself in a loving way.. no coincidence. this is as much for you as it is for me.

**

the eyes that have been wearing glasses since childhood but only so the heart can see clearer. in the mists of the night, the reflected deer soul crossing your path. i am going to make a work of striking, strange oneness. like reality percepted itself. HEART that loves to the point of ruin, stands in the fire city, recreates it from mud and ash again, not blinking. not asking for anything, but THIS, always this. earth city, mud city, the hand palms and feet soles that bless the wounds and suck the energy from sky, air, ground, trees, dirt- drink it desperately like GOOD MEDICINE- the only kind left- the body you once extricated, criticized, now crashed to wholeness by the perfect sea- i am salt and longing, fragmented light still twinkling with magic so ancient from before i was born this way- it constantly tells me i’m okay and some days i feel pure enough to believe it, my hand going to pins and needles as i write this, my body born again in the shock of aliveness, perfect frigid waters, crying and laughing, howling, this is how we were born- and some days i feel wild enough to believe it. near to the wild heart i am cleansed by my own blood spilled, i want to look at it in my hands, know i died for something- gasping, gaping, the way an open wound breathes open mouthed just before healing- twinkling, i had never felt my lungs before, i had never heard my heart before- I AM. like she before me and all the animals i am still a cave painting swirling wind, fur and belief- fossilized in crouched cocoon i can feel myself at the river’s edge- I COME FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE and that place has healed me. make enough space in between your bones and ache for the incantation to begin, this is how we turn salt to sinew, memory to surrender to what is greater, wordless- i am always edging the notion between words and sleep, stretching like fingers towards the whole damn world’s oblivion, even jesus the christ had to leave to come back, you always wander to return, RENEWED. bless this heart, these hands, these teeth that love too purely, salt in the fierceness, the wound, the truth, the library- all i can do is scribble at the doorways in my head, i will unlock them all with heart fire the way a blaze never asks permission, it just comes to return and then leaves as if it never left, this is eternity in the flesh- can you feel it? burning boats and bridges, sweet algae climbing on the sides of memory, grasping, drinking, gulping the marrow- i will stay close to the lupine heart, i will be rock and moss and teeth and shadow- i will be the sunburst on the water, i will sing with eyes electric, i will stand at helm of fearful generator but in GREATNESS- I AM.

XO

a.

mashups

tis the season for thanks and i’m grateful for new opportunities to STRETCHHH those creative muscles, especially as the fall & winter set in. don’t let your heart go cold! the photo above is from the first ever MASHUPS performance (an interdisciplinary experiment of artists collaborating on the spot!) at queens council on the arts which was a night i will NEVER forget- MASSIVE love to my collaborators & the audience we vibed with <3

nature of the muse

TONIGHT! 11/12 7:30-9:30pm
NATURE OF THE MUSE reading & live writing show
by the FIRE in the carriage house at LIC Bar @ 45-58 vernon blvd in LIC
[facebook invite] *flyer by gianna ligammari!
feat: writers yi wu, tippy rex, sydney hartlove nichols, timothy bell & steven licardi with special musical guests janna pelle & luca difabio!
called ‘one of the most exciting literary events in the city’ by BORO mag, 5 writers will share their previously written work and then write LIVE from random prompts written by YOU, the audience! plus fantastic musical guests. ignite your MUSE with us!

1446979225841

NEXT WEEK! 11/18 8:30-10:30pm
THE RISE OF NEON REBEL/ a gathering of creatives
Q.E.D. a place to show & tell @ 27-16 23rd ave in astoria
[facebook invite]
my BFF & fellow rebel artist nick neon is returning from korea after 7 years and we’re formally kicking off our NEON REBEL collective of wild hearts making their own luck, supporting each other, and changing the world with their work and art. BE A PART OF THIS!! we’ll be partying at Q.E.D., sharing, inspiring, discussing, presenting, plotting future projects, and enjoying special guest speakers: sam from good.clean.fun, kenny from road to greatness, valerie from naked in alaska & monica from museum of impact PLUS music from spells & curses and other shenanigans!

Screen Shot 2015-11-10 at 12.23.16 PM

if you are constantly dreaming of ‘somewhere else’ – FIND that somewhere else. i promise it’s out there. because when you take steps in the direction of those things or places that bring you joy, you realize it was never about locating that somewhere else on a map. it was about FINDING YOURSELF and thus unlocking one of the most precious gifts of all- being at home everywhere. with all people, all things. wandering, far and wide- it doesn’t matter. you realize you’re not running away from anything, like they said you were. you are endlessly seeking because you are seeking yourself endlessly and perfectly reflected in all things. yes, this is the journey that never stops. why should it? you find yourself- your true self- over and over again, in doing the things you really love. in daring yourself, shattering the ego, doing the work, taking the chances, pushing the edges. REALITY IS MALLEABLE, PEOPLE. and the more you purely push and investigate your mystery, the more you’ll see the rules bend until you forget what rules were in the first place…

‘ordinary life does not interest me’ ..

are you coming with? ;)

XO

a.

20150529_114801

things have been tumultuous.

today, on a whim, i got in a cab and told the driver: “anywhere in coney island.”

in my entire life, i don’t think i’ve ever been to the beach completely alone.

after having so much trouble writing.. relating. feeling. loving. believing.

in the sea, by the sea, as the sea- i was accepted, broken.

and in the space- i wrote.

i.
it is always as if- i am
seeing it for the first time.
i must believe as the first man did
god is in the ocean.
god is in the earth.
i no longer believe in one god.
i do not know of omniscience.
i only remember what healing is
when my feet touch scorching sand
particles glittering in a force
as wild
as i am.
nature is my only echo.
i am part and parcel.
crash of wave in my roiling heart.
murky depths.
unexplainable.
home to everything.
home to nothing.
home- forever changing.
i must have been a sailor.
because i can’t remember
what it’s like to not be in motion.
dwarfed and frightened and
awed by
majesty beyond your
mortal life.
when i arrive here:
I Arrive.
seagull shadow on
pen and paper.
leopard crabshell
discarded on the beach.
i want to walk
straight out into the
water
and never look back.
as hard as i try-
i cannot understand
anything else.
my heart on fire
has cooled
to floods, to this-
giving and taking
away, giving and
taking
away.
my mind which
never lets me
rest now
dissolving to
foam, bubble,
fragments. seabirds.
i know now
even the barnacles,
the ocean moss, the
crusted shells in
cluster-
have a place here.
i, too, would
latch on
and never leave.

ii.
i love
everything about
the ocean.
even, suddenly, things i couldn’t
bear to behold.
here there are no
notifications.
no guilt, no
smashed
hands or
phones.
you cannot force me
to feel.
i, who in these moments
have felt nothing,
now feel
all.
or at least-
the smallest glimmer
from a match-flick
of something.
an ocean whisper-
don’t leave us.
not yet.
we still have
things
to say.

iii.
if i could lead you
into a poem that is
my life
right now it would be
sounds and
only
darkness.
the slightest shrill of
wayfaring birds, the
slightest swing of
contained flame
in the distance
on the end of
an
outstretched arm,
the prow of a ship,
a billowing sail
saying only- i can
do this.
you must try
to move with me
in the dark.
walking will
do you no good here.
nor any knowledge
of four walls.
only sandy stretches
glittering like nebulas
a sky made of
bluing mussel shells
and fading
footprints.
there is no way
to make me see
otherwise-
the worldly things
besides
ankles tangled
with seaweed,
the crash of wave,
the
infinite
motion.
please do not
ask me to
stand still.
please do not beg me
to feel something
when i am curled
inside
these shadows.
only remind me
of the cycles.
the dusk and dawn
of the sea.
remind me that
these waters
in my heart
my head
this poem
are home for all
who have no
other place
to simply be.

iv.
i feel so infinite and
at peace.
like nothing exists
but this.
if i have to, everyday
or every other day or
every friday
i will return to
this ocean.
i feel as out of place
in the world as
a girl with fins
on land.
i am singing my own
sea shanty
in my heart
always.
i told him this morning
my heart feels like
a piece of driftwood
with the ocean crashing
against it.
and now here i am-
standing in the
water.
calmed by the sea
crashing into
me.

v.
this glittering sand
feels like
the most beautiful thing
i have ever seen.
it reminds me what i am a
part of and
what is a part
of me.

20150529_114824

thank you, coney island.

XO

a.


Into the wild wonderland…

Celebrated as “a wildfire in a world of fluorescent bulbs” and a “poetic force of nature,” Queens, NYC native Audrey Dimola is a shamanically-inclined poet, performer, curator, local arts advocate, community organizer, and lifelong artist, as well as Director of Public Programs at Long Island City’s Socrates Sculpture Park. // Thanks so much for stopping by! You’ll find all my work on this website, past and present, as well as new blog posts. Poetry, prose, videos, events, photos, articles – it’s all here. // STAY WILD, STAY GRATEFUL!

Navigation

ABOUT
Pleased to meet you..!

POETRY & PERFORMANCE
Poetry & prose, live performance videos

PROJECTS
Compass Project, Nature of the Muse, THE WILD PAPERS, #poetsinthewildnyc & more

EVENTS
Full list of upcoming & past events

ARTICLES & MEDIA
Features, reviews, interviews, essays in print & online; blog posts; video interviews

CURATING
Original events I've curated like Nature of the Muse & the Queens Literary Town Hall

PRESS
Coverage of my work - print, blogs, TV!

CONTACT ME!
Info, mailing list, testimonials, specialties

MY BOOKS
My collections of poetry & prose

My Books

I have two poetry & prose collections for sale, proudly self-published. Like what you read? Support an indie!

Decisions We Make While We Dream (2012)

TRAVERSALS (2014)

WILDLIGHT coming soon

Compass Project Poetry Stickers

As of February 2012, I've been sticking my Compass Project poetry and prose stickers up around NYC & sending them around the world! Have you seen some? Want some? Find out more!