Bat Trapped in a Studio Tale

©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz The Stand (La Parada) 12″ x 6″ acrylic / canvas

©Alexander Rosado-Muñoz Scarred Icon Bebe II 24″ x 18″ acrylic, tobacco leaves, gesso / canvas

The two paintings above are intricately involved in a recent event in my studio that inspired me to write a story about it.

The event occurred in the month of June and led me to tell the tale in a non conventional format. Here is the account in verse form – I do admit it was not easy to write, although it was quite fun – hope you enjoy!

 

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Bat Trapped in a Studio Tale

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The light of dusk is slowly fading,

a sturdy metal studio chair

bears me,

certain sounds patter to my right;

somewhere near my paintings by chance,

maybe butterfly or moth in flight,

in the limelight desiring dance.

∗

Where initially I am startled,

as the noise is not too soft,

I assume enormous is this moth,

I get up and try to find out.

∗

Let the movement continue,

this assembled situation,

allow to pinpoint the position,

approaching spot of suspicion,

so stunned a tiny talon, I believe is what I saw,

what is this I question, a butterfly with a claw?

∗

I realize this no insect,

as I identify its condition,

a mammal in fact it seems,

a bat trapped in location,

how is this to be?

My studio doors are always open,

(not some hotel in California),

they can check-in any time they like,

and they can always leave.

∗

Winged herald quest of liberation,

paintings are a puzzle or a maze,

searching for possible locations,

structures the senses do amaze.

∗

The choice to be secluded,

behind the work: “The Stand”,

few canvases I remove,

to acquire some advance,

in some ways quite befitting,

a shamans’ show of stance,

of somehow stating something,

of pointing way direction,

of awareness nature yearning,

of myth or dream of own.

∗

I wish to show it outside,

to thrust this traveler free,

pull the shackles from its wings,

but then it changes paintings,

to a more delicate entree;

a tobacco covered work,

the fragile “Scarred Icon Bebe (II)”,

which quite reluctant I am to shake.

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(I hear my spouse advise,

“you must turn off the lights,

the brightness has made it ‘blind'”.

How then can I see? I nonchalantly replied;

and guard my hand from the likes

of viable capricious bites.)

∗

Heeding her suggestion,

I proceed to dim the luster,

behind the painted canvas,

its courage begins to muster,

he finds a way to slither,

then start to fly around,

and round the room in circles,

and miss by much the door,

it crawls again exhausted,

and seems to kiss the floor.

∗

My compassion therefore swollen,

it’s persistence I admire,

I approach this hero fallen,

entangled in its desire.

∗

Flight finding freedom!

Out the door with a hover,

although difficult to fathom,

nature urges such a ponder,

instantly I have been heartened,

at last did it recover!