Visual Art

Tim’s Art

“If I can think it, I can draw it and I love coming to the Path with Art [Open Studio] Zoom meetings. It’s so nice to be able to be supportive of not only myself but of other people’s art and their different art making textures.”

—Tim Bridge, Path with Art Participant Artist

Join Tim and other artists during our virtual Open Studio on Mondays from 3:30-5:00pm for dedicated creative time and a supportive community environment!

Email program@pathwithart.org for the Zoom link to Open Studio.

Poetry

for our poet


She said to us
I need a nudge
Without a push
I just won’t budge

Call it a block
To write my words
More like a rock
Perch for some birds

Toss me a theme
Float me a boat
If it’s a dream
I’ll help it float

Pen to a page
Fingers on keys
It’s just a stage
Leaves off of trees

Look in my eyes
Knock on my door
I’m here! Ever wise…
Up off the floor!

~ Bill Kirlin-Hackett, PAB (Program Advisory Board)

Poetry

The Last House Dinner

Endings and beginnings can be bittersweet times of reflection. In this moment I’m pondering both; I recently moved out of the intentional community house I’ve lived in for the past five years. One of my favorite parts of living in our community was house dinner. Every Tuesday, we would gather to share a meal with the housemates, ranging from 5-10 people (you’d be surprised how many people you can fit in a 5 bedroom house!). I wrote this poem a couple weeks ago, in honor of our last house dinner. It’s filled with sweet and delicious memories from my time living with beloved community.

The Last House Dinner
by Bex Lipps

Family is who gathers at your table 
Breaking fresh baked bread
Filling each bowl to the brim before 
Holding hands for the ritual
……HOORAY!

Many meals over many years
We weekly circled round this table
Sharing the pulp of our hearts,
The labor of our hands
Cooking for each other is a love language
And we are fluent

With raucous cackling
We laugh at ourselves and our own absurdity
Was it even house dinner if your abs don’t ache?
Laughter is our medicine,
The doses plentiful and strong 

Oh, drench me in hollyhock
And feed me to the hungry queers 
Devour me with a side of roasted vegetables 
Drizzled with balsamic memories 
I will feed you homemade cookies
Until your soul is fully satisfied
If you promise to remember 
This feeling of home

Say it with me
One last time:
Mischief managed