"Mother Memory" (Art Exhibit Series, 5/10)
Toti O’Brien
The following is part of the Mother Memory art exhibit series, a pairing of literature with art curated by the exhibitor, Toti O’Brien. Oyster River Pages is pleased to present this series in weekly installments.
When I think of Katerina Canyon’s Feet, I realize that it doesn’t need any comment because it stands alone, and no, this isn’t a pun inspired by the title. On the contrary, it is the feeling I get whenever I listen to this poet, either virtually or live, whenever I read her words. Each time, I feel exposed to something so authentic and whole, it doesn’t call for discussion, but leaves after itself an echo of silence, and elicits respect without having to ask for it. The words, how they are pronounced, the poet’s very countenance, emanate a serene yet exceptional strength. They (the woman and the verse) are patently rooted somewhere deep, as for a primeval tree. Even when, before taking the mic, she quietly sits in a corner, Canyon “sits like a mountain.” Though, it doesn’t take long to understand that behind her aplomb, beyond her rare composure, there is dust mixed with sweat from climbing a steep hill, there are scars from multiple tears, sewn up with hands steady.
Her poetry—direct, poignant, hammered in short and unequivocal sentences—lends itself to be spoken, but her tone is only apparently mundane. Something—like a shard, a fragment, a broken verse—periodically intersects and pierces the narrative, altering its pace, sneaking into our mind to arouse another form of attention. It is a lament, a cry, a call, a memento... it is the chant sung by a Greek tragedy chorus. It’s just a slight shift in perspective, almost casual, still sufficient to abandon the domain of the chronicle and step readily into the realm of myth.
Feet
by Katerina Canyon
I cleaned my daughter’s feet.
I swept the warm cloth along
her soft, Earth toned skin — she grinned
and said, “Mom, that feels Heavenly.”
Yes, I remember.
Lying on the bed like a doll filled with sand
too fatigued to move — I played hard that day.
Slightly waking to feel the warm cloth on my feet.
Mother washing the day’s dirt away.
Yes, that felt Heavenly.
My friends told me their mothers would say
we should always take care
to wear clean underwear
in case we came upon disaster.
“Clean feet are most important”, my mother said.
She explained that a woman’s feet
told the story of her life.
That on her soles you could see
the roads she traveled.
She would say, “You can measure her resilience in a woman’s ankles”
I was told that if I were to get into an accident,
dressed like a bum,
and the doctors saw I had clean feet,
they would take good care of me.
“I know that may sound silly to you”, she’d say
She explained they would know that I tried
my best to take care of myself
and that my dress was more
a matter of circumstance than of desire.
When I was too tired for an evening bath, she washed my feet.
When I was sick in bed, she washed my feet.
When we were homeless, she washed my feet.
When she felt there was nothing else to do, she washed my feet.
Yes, it felt Heavenly.
I tried out for the high school track team.
I went in for a physical.
The doctor examined my feet
and said, “Nice feet,” and approved me as healthy.
He never asked me if I had on clean underwear.
I wondered how many kids
would miss out on running track
because their feet weren’t as clean as mine?
And I thought she was being silly.
She was right.
I finally saw her.
And there she was.
Too tired to move.
Dying.
I filled the bowl with warm water.
I found a soft cloth.
Picked up the soap. Ivory pure.
The only type she would use.
I looked at her feet — so long and thin.
Dark as Louisiana clay.
Her veins stuck up like river lines.
A road map to the Bayou.
I washed her feet.
Her feet carried heavy burdens.
She walked many miles for many years.
She said, “That feels Heavenly.”
I replied, “Yes, I remember.”
Anita Getzler | still frame from Evocation (video) | 2021
An eight-minute video films artist Anita Getzler performing a personal ritual in honor of the lives lost during the pandemic. It is 2021. Getzler spreads into the Pacific Ocean hundreds of rose petals at the sound of the Jewish prayer Mourner Kaddish (a polyphonic version, rendered with exceptional virtuosity by the Los Angeles Master Chorale). The title of the video, Evocation, is the same the artist gave to an assemblage/installation that includes, indeed, thousands of rose petals, creating a frail tapestry of remembrance. Both the installation and video result from a long labor, from a process ripened through the years, to ultimately express a very accomplished output. A few selected elements hold a potent distillate of concepts and feelings, synthesizing them in linear, crystalline fashion. Choosing the rose petal as a central theme, Getzler prunes out the obvious symbolisms that it usually evokes, making it into a vector of vital dialogues—such as that between dismembering and remembering, attachment and abandonment, ephemeral and durable, death and rebirth. With its accidental gift of color and scent, the rose happens to intersect, like a subtle counterpoint, many instances of trauma and grief in the artist’s personal history (memories of relatives lost in the Holocaust, illnesses and deaths, up until the recent pandemic). Getzler manages to combine lights and shadows of the traumatic process within the same floral icon, which she elects to the role of simultaneous emblem of sadness and acceptance, suffering and resilience, despair and hope. Reconciling the opposites engenders a feeling of peace, to which contributes as well the Kaddish prayer, aligning its sound frequencies with the ocean waves, with the breathing and heartbeat of those who remain, survive, and need to keep living.
Katerina Canyon is a 2020 and 2019 Pushcart Prize Nominee. Her stories have been published in New York Times and Huffington Post. From 2000 to 2003, she served as the Poet Laureate of Sunland-Tujunga. During that time, she started a poetry festival and ran several poetry readings. She was featured in the Los Angeles Times and was awarded the Montesi Award from Saint Louis University in 2011, 2012, and 2013. She has published multiple chapbooks and an album. https://www.poetickat.com/
Raised in Brooklyn, Anita Getzler was grew up in the company of the great art exhibited in the New York museums. As a teen, she moved to Los Angeles, where she later earned a BA from the University of California, Berkeley, and an MA from California State University, Los Angeles. During her years as a museum educator, she pursued as well a fine art photographer and visual artist career. Her work designing and directing Education Programs in community galleries, in Los Angeles and Las Vegas, broadened her artistic vision and sharpened her photographic skills. Her creative practice kept sevolving, and now includes photography, mixed media, painting, and installations. Many of these works have been showcased in solo and group exhibitions. https://www.anitagetzlerstudio.com/home
