Melinda Palacio leads a writing class in front of the Kermit painting at the S.B. Museum of Art. | Credit: Melinda Palacio

How do you best enjoy an art exhibit? Do you read every description ahead of time, or after you’ve had a chance to feast your eyes on the artwork? 

Melinda Palacio leads a writing class in front of the Kermit painting at the S.B. Museum of Art. | Credit: Melinda Palacio

Last week, I offered a writing workshop that drew a wide variety of people; I even saw someone from my gym who is not a writer. In the all-levels writing workshop, my favorite students were those who have never taken a writing class, who took a chance on themselves and were brave enough to share their work alongside the published authors and poets who participated. This is a workshop that I cannot wait to lead again. It was fun for me and fun for everyone who participated. 

For the workshop, I chose the inside/outside gallery at the Santa Barbara Museum of Art. The collection features one of my new favorite artworks, a Keith Mayerson painting entitled: Someday we’ll find It, the Rainbow Connection, the lovers, the dreamers, and me 2023. The painting is of Kermit the Frog riding out of the swamp to Hollywood on a yellow bicycle. I can’t think of a happier image. Prior to the workshop, I stopped by the gallery to spend some time with Kermit. Everyone who sees this painting smiles. It has a happy effect on people. 

Even if you somehow managed to have never seen Sesame Street or a Muppet Movie or know what a Muppet is, the idea of a fuzzy green frog, dressed in an equally green collar, riding a yellow bicycle with basket is cheerful enough. For someone new to writing, the art is accessible. 

What grabbed me, besides the subject Kermit, was the dappled light, the determination on Kermit’s face to peddle through any circumstance to meet his goals and the collective knowing that ‘we will find it, the rainbow connection.’ There’s a sense that Kermit is riding outside of his world into the unknown, an adventure not just for himself, but for his community and audience. The collision between the inner world and the outer in a single artwork is what connects each piece in the Inside/Outside gallery. The external scene informs the inner world, whether real, fictional or in between. 

A cohort of sixteen people joined the workshop. Everyone had at least 30 minutes of uninterrupted time to write about an artwork in the gallery. Three of the writers have agreed to share their work with the group and with you. 

If you missed the chance to write in the Inside/Outside gallery with me, I will be teaching a poetry workshop on Odes at the Santa Barbara Public Library on October 3. A chance to hear poetry without the expectation of doing any writing will happen on October 22 during the Santa Barbara Museum of Art’s Day of the Dead Celebration where I will read poetry and play songs in honor of Día de Los Muertos.

Melinda Palacio leads a writing class in front of the Kermit painting at the S.B. Museum of Art. | Credit: Melinda Palacio

Upcoming Poetry Events:  

Santa Barbara Reads Poetry Workshop: In Praise of the little and the large: Write an Ode, October 3, Faulkner Gallery East, 6-7:30pm

October 8: Poetry Zone: reading and open mic at the patio of the Karpeles Library, 1:30 pm

October 22, Día de los Muertos Free Family Day at the Santa Barbara Museum of Art, three sets of poetry and songs by Melinda Palacio, 1:15-1:35, 2:15-2:35, and 3:15 to 3:35. 


Keith Mayerson, Someday we’ll find it, the Rainbow Connection, the lovers, the dreamers and me, 2023. Oil on linen. SBMA, Museum purchase with funds provided by the Luria/Budgor Family Foundation. | Credit: Courtesy

Kermie
By Ward Rafferty

Kerm, Kermit, Kermie, Kermster?

Still motion, rainbow colors disbursed 

Colors reverberant, pulsing, shroomatic

You’re green, bike yellow, white spokes, eyes white, pupils too

Gentle black kind mouth line, smile?

In motion? Yes, yet still, loving countenance

2:37 pm? Leaves likely rustling, wind gentle, perhaps absent

Shadow trailing in leaves

Forest road, moss in trees? Yup

River in background? Maybe

Eager, casual, enthusiasm, anticipating

I want to be your friend.

Ward Rafferty has lived in Santa Barbara County for 26 years. This is his first published poem and first time in print since his college newspaper days.


Jane Dickson, El Nino – Motorcycle 2, 1999. Roll-A-Tex & oil on canvas. Museum purchase with funds provided by Kandy Budgor, Luria/Budgor Family Foundation. | Credit: Courtesy

Title of Art Piece: El Nino
By Mona Alvarado Frazier, novelist and author of the Garden of Second Chances

Towering twin sentinels with eyes that watch over the home welcome the young man motoring up a sidewalk the color of the gloomy sky. A porch light illuminates what transpired that day, like the day before—cleaning, cooking, caretaking kids, and Grandpa staring at a fuzzy TV screen for hours. A humid day has come to a close. Open windows and an open front door are all one can do without air conditioning. 

“Didn’t need one twenty years ago,” Grandpa grumbles. “That husband of yours should spring for A/C, the tightwad.”

The floor fan whirls the heavy comment out the window and into the man’s face like a gloved slap. Kids wave from the slit in the door. Too late to turn back. He hesitates, one leg on his motorcycle, the other on the warm cement. 

Mona Alvarado Frazier is an active member of the SCBWI, Macondo Writers, as well as a co-founder of LatinxPitch, an annual X event. Her second YA novel debuts in December 2024, published by Arte Público Press.


Shizu Salmando, Daniel y Uriel, 2009. Mixed media and colored pencil on paper. Museum purchase with funds provided by the General Art Acquisition Fund. | Credit: Courtesy

Two Young Men
By Susan Shields 

(Inspired by Shizu Saldamando’s piece Daniel y Uriel en El D.F. at the SBMA)

This poet has a few questions.

I want to know 

who made the patchwork quilt

upon which two young men

sprawl so comfortably,

at ease in their early

manhood.

They remind me of my two 

grandsons who also

make themselves at home

at my house when

they come to visit.

Daniel and Uriel are polite.

Their shoes do not touch the bed.

Do they come here because

they feel welcome and safe?

Or is it their duty?

Daniel does not look me

in the eye.

What is he afraid to admit

to his grandmother?

Uriel gazes at me 

directly but sternly.

What lives do they lead?

Are they friends with each other

like my grandsons?

Do they love their Grandma?

Born in London, Susan Shields has worked as a translator and has taught English As a Second Language. She started collecting words at an early age and has been happily writing ever since.

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