Michael Andrews Arts

See Announcements for details on publication of Archilochus poems in Arion Magazine.

Self Portraits

A Current Project


Self Portraits is an example of narcissism by accident.
      The accidental part was that one day I had noticed that I had taken a lot of pictures with my shadow intruding in the frame, and others as refections of myself in windowsand mirrors. The primary example was a favorite image of mine Boy On Curb. I had walked along in San Cristobal de las Casas happily snapping the shutter when I came across this dejected boy sitting on a curb. After I took the picture, with the shadow of my head up against the curb, I looked up and saw his kite trapped in the overhead wires and wrote the poem. When I printed the picture in the darkroom as a Cibachrome I made the decision to keep the shadow of my head in the frame. It was the first time I became consciously aware of a self portrait.
      Later it came to my attention that portraits of an artist by the artist were desirable in the market place. At that point I began to assemble self portraits, accidental or otherwise.
      So, market place, here they are. Neatly assembled under the catchy title of Self Portraits.


Boy On Curb
San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico, 1979

   Can a sorcerer go to the moon, for instance?
   Of course he can, he replied.
   But he wouldn't be able to bring back a bag of rocks though.
         don Juan Matus
, from Carlos Castenada

Some things go across.
Roads go across and stripes on sweaters
and stripes on telephone poles and telephone wires
and buildings
painted with crushed blueberries and strawberries
have lines that go across and the shadows of men
and mountain ranges and horizons go across
but some things go up.

Standing men point up and a single mountain
goes way up
and a string with a weight on the end goes up
and kites go up
and the moon.

My shadow bumps its head on the curb and I stop.

There is a boy sitting on the curb and he is sad.
He is sad because his kite is trapped on a telephone wire.
The moon is just in back of the kite.
I say "cheese" to the moon and get a picture.

The little boy doesn't give a damn if I take his picture or not.
He is busy trying to figure things out.
He is trying to decide if he is beaten or not.

I walk on down the road into one of many worlds.
You can have it any way you want in your universe
but in my world
the boy gets up.

He gets his kite down or he builds a better kite.
One day he walks down the road and out of town.

He travels to other stars and other galaxies
and he flies his kite right up to the moon and says