Here's My Excuses...

I have not been as faithful as I would have wished to keep this blog updated...I'd like to say that it is because I am a woeful computer illiterate. Unfortunately, that is not the case, I have been designing on a Mac for more than 15 years. Although I DID just learn how to text message and I do kick and claw when I have to learn a new technology! But I digress...

I don't know why I struggle with time management (could it be because I run a business, do a non profit, am involved in several other art and writing projects and have a houseful of wild as banshee children and barking dogs?) Hmmm...

It seems that every year, around the middle of October, the days scream by like a out-of-control freight train. Is it just me? So, I make no promises, but maybe, just maybe in 2010 I will be more frequent with my blogs. (Fingers crossed.)

Enough apologies-

Merry Christmas, Happy Channukah and Happy New Year to all-

Launa Stan

(and all of the Stan Clan...Marty, Fonda, Fauve and Alessandro)

Book excerpt:  

Unbutton My Heart

The Story of Poetry Art

Author's Note

When I was a little girl, with a mouthful of of crooked teeth, twiggy legs and lopsided pigtails, I possessed no dreams of grandeur.  My greatest aspiration was to become one of those fabulous women I had admired in countless rural rodeos.  I would sit transported, as they pranced into the ring, regally sitting upon their fine horses.  I wanted, desperately, to someday be part of that cowgirl parade, with my own turquoise polyester western suit and matching felt hat and rhinestone tiara.  I yearned to hold the Arkansas state flag, while guiding my gray and white Appaloosa onto the dusty field with my other hand. The mingled aroma of sweat, hay and cow dung was practically perfume to my young nose.  Whenever the last strains of the National Anthem evaporated into the cotton ball clouds, I ached to be one of those horsewomen, who clicked their tongues and galloped out, to the applause of hundreds of spectators, dripping in hot dog grease.

I never imagined then, that my life would take all the turns that it has.  Frankly, I wouldn't have had the chutzpah to dream that grand!  Rather than growing up to raise my children in a small town, I've traversed the globe countless times.  I don't own a paddock of speckled ponies, nor have I ever ridden in a rodeo, but I have jumped out of airplanes for fun.  I've worked as a model for television commercials and print ads.  I've been a political cartoonist.  I've designed clothing for teenagers and traveled to more countries than I can count.  Since 1989, I have been known for creating and executing a style of painting that I call, Poetry Art.  This art begins with the composition of a poem, which I paint into the artwork, using the words to create the entire image.  Since its inception, I have exhibited in hundreds of galleries in the United States as well as museums.  I have had the privilege of taking this special art and poetry to far flung nations, such as India, Israel, Russia, Peru and Ukraine.  Many churches, schools and organizations for women and children have invited me to speak.  I have climbed Machu Picchu, I have been awed by the Bolshoi ballet in Moscow and cried with widows in the Chernobyl region of Ukraine.  I have walked through the slums of Bombay and watched children play barefoot in open sewers.  I have been a special guest in high security prisons at home and abroad.  I've sipped tea at governor's mansions, bombed out houses in Kosovo and in mud floor huts in Ethiopia.  I've held hands and prayed with dear people dying of AIDS in Africa.  I have had the great privilege of being part of relief missions for Afghanistan, Turkey, Peru, Russia, Ukraine, the Andaman Islands, Ethiopia, Zambia, India, Kosovo and in the United States.

Thus far, my existence on this planet has been blessed with purpose and joy, yet I find myself humbled and a bit embarrassed to tell my story.  I am an ordinary person who is thrilled to have been a part of extraordinary events...

I write this story, mainly for the countless request that I have had throughout the years, for a written account of my experiences.  Many people have been inspired, not so much by me, but by the apparent hand of God that is on my life and seen in Poetry Art.  Ironically, I am a possessively private person by nature.  Baring my inner and exterior life for all to read and disseminate is difficult for me to do.  Yet, on a spiritual level, I know this testimony might lighten the load of one traveling along the same road that I once did.  Perhaps through my meager words, comfort, healing and connection will occur.

I don't want to imply that I have arrived, but rather that I am still circumnavigating jagged rocks and cliffs, I fall on my face daily, like everyone else.

This is not an autobiography in the traditional sense, but rather a single voice narrative with anecdotes and snippets of a life led...In the end, I believe that the words that I have chosen will illuminate this precious, holy and unique art form that I have been given from above.  This thin volume will reveal the power of poetry; the consequences of leaps of faith and the gorgeous pattern that a bigger picture brings...My heart's desire in writing this memoir is that my simple words will touch the reader, in a deep and lasting way.  If this ends up being true, I hope you'll let me know!

Launa

Prescott, Arizona

(Ironically-home of the oldest rodeo)

 

The following poetry goes with the previous blog's photo.

I have traveled three different times to Ukraine, with the 

outreach organization Eastern European Outreach.

(If you get a chance, check out their website:  WWW.EEO.org)

I have been to youthful offender prisons, orphanages,

Homes for street children and have mingled tears with

many who survived the  terrible tragedy of 

Chernobyl on April 26, 1986.  On that date, power plant reactor #4 

exploded, releasing 250 million curies of radioactive materials into the

environment.  It is the deadliest nuclear accident of all time and

the people of Ukraine must still endure the aftermath. 

I was so profoundly moved by the vulnerable widows

and children I encountered in Pripyet, a town near the "dead zone" 

that I wrote this poem and painted it into the

painting.  These words are displayed in both English and 

Russian at the Chernobyl National Museum:

Uprooted: Mother Ukraine

If a man's thoughts dye his soul

What kind of stain do his deeds leave?

A hazardous spill

On himself and upon the laps of others

Who share the same air

Breathing in and out, in and out

Now, there is bitterness that abounds

In the bread basket to the north

Uprooted family trees, with forgotten people

In yellow photos, dangling down

Wooden cradles set ablaze in the forest

Where blue light sprang from place to place

Luminescent, deadly beautiful

Reminiscent of sparklers

Crackling at a May Day parade

The rain has become hot tears pouring down

Falling down, dropping to the earth

The fragmented rivulets on a musical score

Splash on these paper lives

Fragile and all too brief

The muffled sobbing is a melody

But only to the ears of Him unseen

It's an aria of the heart that sings a Capella

The high pitched notes of pain

Yet, he who suffers speaks a wordless language

That can be understood, although the tongue is mute

It transcends dialects, country lines

And political ideologies...

Uprooted but not alone

I have seen lives irrevocably changed

In one moment in time

From one thoughtless, careless decision

Leaving ancient villages empty

Doors are swinging on squeaky hinges

For all eternity, plus seven years more

And the plastic dolls of stolen youth

Sit on dust covered window panes

Vacantly gazing at the loss...

Uprooted but not alone

Heartbreak and tragedy

Are no respecter of persons, traditions, religions

Or plans

It is blinded by skin color

And the coins in one's purse

I have been told that fear is like rust

That eats away hope, little by little

Corroding all confidence

This invisible acid obliterates desire

Until we are mere shells, with nothing more inside...

Uprooted, but not alone

I believe that love is a salve

To be spread on the wound to heal and soothe

Able to mend the innermost places

That are hidden from man

Faith causes that page to turn

Just because today's sunshine is blocked out by clouds

Doesn't mean the sun is gone

If God seems silent

It doesn't mean He has left us or doesn't hear our cries

Perhaps, we are the ones who aren't listening

To the voice that is gentle and low

Tender and always near

We must be quiet and still, He is here

And anxious to woo us to Him like a lover

He will be revealed once more...

Uprooted but not alone

There is a day that dawns upon all of our broken lives

That we are able to see clearly

If we look with unjaded eyes

That we are all people with ruined dreams

With unrealized plans

Yet, somehow they can fit perfectly into His bigger picture

And become breathtakingly beautiful, in time

Uprooted, but never alone

From these strange ashes

Hope will rise!

(c) Launa

WWW.Poetryart.net

Chernobyl Museum

Kiev, Ukraine

Since this painting, 

"Uprooted: Mother Ukraine"

was installed on permanent exhibition (1999) 

in the 

Chernobyl National Museum, 

I have received 

numerous emails from people all 

over the world to express their admiration. 

I didn't get an opportunity to exhibit it in the United States before flying with it to 

Ukraine for the reception.  It is a mixed media painting 

on canvas and one I am intensely proud of. 

Since not everyone can fly to Kiev to see it, I thought I'd share it in my blog.

By the way, this photo was taken in my studio back then---this accounts for the pouffy hair and retro overalls...

not to mention my looking ten years younger!

-Launa 

The "Pease Greeters" dedicate the giclee, 

"A Prayer for a Soldier"

at the Pease International Airport

Portsmouth, New Hampshire

I have to tell you about the "Pease Greeters."  They are a dedicated group of volunteers who go daily to the airport to greet and shower with kindness and gratitude US military personnel.

(I have been told that they have greeted up to three returning transports in one day.)

This group of 250+ tireless people meet returning servicemen and women who are leaving for active duty in Iraq and Afghanistan and those who are returning.  

Even when an airplane lands in the middle of the night, at least 75 dedicated greeters show up!  There are even greeters who drive in from 100 miles away, just to be a support and encouragement for these soldiers in transit-what dedication!

The Pease Greeters wave American flags, shake hands, give hugs, express appreciation and just plain "love all over" these selfless warriors and heroes of our country.  They also offer refreshments to the troops, as Pease International is their last stop on American soil or their first stop, as they return home from fighting the War on Terror.  

The lady pictured in the photo above in a pale yellow shirt is Tenley Westbrook, she sings the "American Anthem" and her own composition, "Our Freedom Song."  (Visit this talented lady's website at Tenley@Tenleywestbrook.com)

The other beautiful woman to the right of Tenley is our family's dear friend and honorary "Grammy," Lois Fonda (she is who our 8 year old daughter Fonda is named for.)  To the right of Lois is Jerry McConnell a WWII Veteran of the Marine Corps.  To the far left is Ed Johnson, a Silver Star recipient of the Korean Conflict, also a former Marine.  Ed is the Chairman of the Pease Greeters.  Of course all around and holding the framed print are brave young men 

who are serving our country in amazingly courageous ways.  

Thank you from the bottom of my heart, all you Valiant Warriors!

To find out more about the Pease Greeters, visit their website:  WWW.peasegreeters.org

To see "A Soldier's Prayer" or to read the poetry see one of my earlier blogs from this year.

May God continue to have mercy upon us and may God bless America!

-Launa

WWW.Poetryart.net

WWW.Globalimpactworldrelief.org

I got to do a fun thing today...

I was interviewed at the local National Public Radio station for 

"Lenny's Place with Lenny Lambert"  

It is always fun and challenging to talk about Poetry Art over the radio 

because it is an audio medium 

and my art is SO VISUAL!  For all the northern Arizona listeners, this interview is going to be broadcast this Saturday and Sunday at 3:00 p.m. on KJZA 89.5 fm (in partnership with KJazz Phoenix) 

Give it a listen, if you can!

-Launa

Nice article in today's paper:

Prescott Valley Tribune

Poetry Art: Prescott Valley woman's words make up the picture

http://www.pvtrib.com/main.asp?SectionID=74&subsectionID=404&articleID=50280

+ click to enlarge Launa Stan reads her poem that makes up a replica of the U.S. flag. She presented the print to the student council at Glassford Hill Middle School where she presented her story and artwork earlier this year. Trib Photo/Sue Tone

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

Calling her poetry the "soul of her work," Launa Stan wraps her words into intricate pieces of artwork that look like paintings from afar, but need a close-up look to see that words and only words are what make up the figures and landscapes.

Stan brought her paintings and her story to Glassford Hill Middle School this past month where students listened to her presentation, then filed past the stage to intently examine the lettering that makes up the tiniest strand of hair and the larger shadow areas of the pictures.

Stan said she knew from the moment she picked up a crayon as a child that she wanted to create art. What made her early life difficult were the feelings of insignificance that she carried into adulthood.

Stan's father had convinced her as a 5-year-old child, when her parents divorced, that she had no value. 

"If you have supportive, loving parents, you are blessed," she said to the middle-school students.

Stan spent many days and nights with her grandmother, who surrounded the girl with storybooks at night after tucking her into bed. She learned to read herself to sleep.

By the time Stan reached middle school, she was writing stories and poetry in notebooks, and collected "special words" that she wrote in her Word Books. When the library in her small town closed and its books were headed to the dump, Stan's mother brought them all home in boxes.

"They made a 12-foot high mountain of books. It was beyond exciting - I thought I'd died and gone to heaven," the artist said.

In her junior year, a history teacher had the class write a 3-5 page paper based on a small photograph of a man peering out between bars in communist Russia. Stan wrote about a poor, hungry girl who stole some bread, got caught and went to jail. It was 15 pages long and she found she loved the experience of creating the character and story. 

The teacher said she had a gift for writing, and made copies of the story for everyone in the class. 

"Never before had a teacher ever encouraged me or said I was good at something," Stan said.

Coincidentally, years later she received an invitation to speak at a juvenile detention center in Russia, where a 15-year-old girl stood up and told her story - it was identical to the story Stan had written as a teen.

The Prescott Valley artist sells much of her original work and prints to benefit children and families through an organization she co-founded with her husband called Global Impact (www.globalimpactworldrelief.org). The organization aids those who have experienced trauma from war, famine, extreme poverty, disease and natural disasters. 

Through the organization, the couple has helped people in Mississippi and Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina, and those in foreign countries including Kosovo, Turkey, Ethiopia, Zambia, India and Afghanistan.

GHMS student council members accepted one of Stan's prints called Red, White and Blue, on behalf of the school. Students said they found Stan's story and her artwork amazing. Language arts teachers later assigned students a similar project using poetry and art.

Something special for summer reading...

Here's a good read, whether you are sitting by the pool, fishing by a lake, laying on the couch or flying to some tropical destination for vacation. It's called "Prayer and all that Jazz."  by Karen Cameron-Brook.  She's a fabulous, world class singer and it is her chronicle of a life of faith and song. (As you can see, this photo is of my copy, which is dog eared from

reading.) 

Check it out on her website: WWW.Karencameron.com

What's this book have to do with Poetry Art, you might be asking yourself?  Plenty.  

Check out chapter 35, "A Picture Paints A Thousand Words."  This chapter is about Poetry Art. Karen also recalls our first meeting in Boston, some years ago and about our second "chance" encounter, (actually a Divine Appointment) in Yetebon, Ethiopia. OH, and if you are in New England and need an first class jazz band with a gutsy, spirited, gorgeous and extremely talented singer, contact her too...and tell her I sent you!

-Launa

 

Art that Heals the Heart

As so many of you know, who have followed my work for any length of time, I do Poetry Art in order to have the freedom and platform to do international outreach programs.  For almost two decades, I have had the privilege to be involved with countless relief projects and emergency aid.  Since 1999, my husband Marty and I have done Global Impact, a non-profit organization that we founded to give us the opportunity to do more.  (See Global Impact on my website WWW.Poetryart.net or go to Globalimpactworldrelief.org.)   

On my blog this week, I wanted to highlight a new project that we have begun with our partner in India.  It is a micro-enterprise for ladies to manufacture clothing to sell.  (I used to be a clothing designer in LA, so this is especially exciting to me!)

This new business will provide income for these women, as well as to help bring more support for the children's home that we have been involved with for many years in New Mumbai.  See our blog at:  impacttheglobe.blogspot.com to find out more info and also read about the block making enterprise in Zambia to raise money for the AIDS orphan feeding that we have been sponsoring for a number of years.

Have a great day!

-Launa

Exhibition of Poetry Art

"Through the Artist's Eye"

 May-June 2009

The Clay County Health & Wellness Center

57 Floyd Springs Rd., Ashland, Alabama

This exhibit is special because, as some of you may know, my mother is an Artist and 

a Potter  and several of her paintings will be feature along side my own!

Stop by the Wellness Center if you are in the Ashland area

Thank you Glassford Hill Middle School

Student Council

in Prescott Valley, Arizona

 for inviting me to be your guest speaker

on April 27, 2009

to kick off National Poetry Month!

After doing 3 assemblies in a row and speaking to 725 students, 

I was ready for a nap!

But your energy, enthusiasm and great questions and comments 

made it a banner day for me.

Guess What?  

I've got some "No Shades of Gray" and "Tree of Life"  Books!

These two Poetry Art Anthologies have been sold out at publisher for years and whenever I have had someone call to order, I'd have to track down copies at a gallery who carries my work...but right now, for a limited time, I have about a dozen copies available each.  I was able to acquire them through a secondary market.  They are brand new and ready to ship.  

"No Shades of Gray" is my first ever published book of Poetry Art, it features favorites, such as "We Belong," "Until My Arms Ache," and the three hanky poem, "Birth Pains."

"Tree of Life" sold out of it's second publication rather quickly, with Poetry and images, like,

"Tree of Life," "A Father's Arms" and the poem, "Dropping the Rock."

Since quantities are limited, this will not be put on the website and sold through PAYPAL.

If you are interested, the books are $19.95+shpg. $4.=$23.95

Email all orders: Poetryartist@yahoo.com

Personal checks are welcome.

Hurry, these won't last!

ART 101

It's been "spring break" here in Arizona for my elementary school aged daughters, so I have been pretty busy doing "projects," as well as chasing my two year old son all over our acreage.

I wanted to show off my up and coming Artist. Her style is definitely after the French Fauve painters like Henri Matisse and Andre Derain. The Fauvist movement consisted of painters who used wild brush strokes and bold, strident colors.

It is acrylic on Canvas, Titled: 

"Visions of Vietnam."

For those of  you who are interested in purchasing this piece,

I have to let you know that I am the new, proud owner.  It was

painted yesterday, by my 8 year old daughter, Fonda and it 

cost me a staggering 2 Tootsie pops and 1 Tootsie roll!!

I didn't sell my first painting until I was 28 years old...so she's doing well.

(By the way, speaking of "Fauve," that is actually my 6 year old daughter's name.) I am sure I'll show off something, in this blog, from her sometime that is equally as stunning.

Maybe, I should forget about marketing my own work and promote Fonda's!

This blog is done in conjunction with the website:

WWW.Poetryart.net

It didn't occur to me to put that on the blog before because I assumed that is how bloggers were finding me.  Lately, I have had messages that some people have found my blog by Googling my name or "Poetry Art."  So, if you that's you, take a minute to visit the website!

This Month's Featured Galleries:

Carrying Poetry Art for more than 10 years-

Gallery In the Vault

105 E. Liberty St.

Wooster, OH 

(330) 262-3599

Mhiripiri Gallery

9001 Penn Ave., Bloomington MN

(952) 285-9684

WWW.Shonasculpturemhiripir.com

"Oh, my valiant one..."

By popular demand...

New Size available on Giclee Print:  

"Prayer for a Soldier" 

22"x15 1/2"

$90.

Larger size still available too

27 1/2"x18 1/4"

$170.

Here's the poetry-----

Prayer for a Soldier

Words burst from my heart...

Like surging water splitting open a fragile dam

A humble offering to the Almighty

My gaze is upward toward shifting clouds

Resembling faces of fighters

Etched with furrows caused by war

I am praying for you, my own soldier

Wherever you might be this day

Surrendered to these events which I cannot change

As you awaken to another day of uncertainty

And have to rouse the warrior within

Waves of time overwhelm me

Like an ocean's swell washing over my shoulders

Leaving me clutching memories

Thick and satisfying

As  I kneel in the stillness of dawn

Each day, I ask God for your protection

As you do what needs to be done

I pray that you can find camaraderie in friendship

And also inspiration in history

Remembering the legacy of soldiers

Who trembled but pushed on

Feel their spirit, as they drop their rusty weapons

To give an invisible embrace

Oh my valiant one...

Can you hear the millions of prayers

Wafting up into the heavens?

Whispered by family and friends

And countless strangers

To give you strength, hope and courage

Assurance that you are everlastingly loved!

And that the road home is only

Beyond a few more hills

The lights are on

And I am breathlessly waiting for you

(c) Launa Stan

New Work

"Chosica Cafe"

Unframed, Acrylic on Canvas

28x42 

Price from Artist $2,400.

Email me for Poetry for this Piece: Poetryartist@yahoo.com

Detail