The California Notebooks by Anna Mosca “To create poetry means to be the missing syllable” – I quaderni californiani di Anna Mosca: «Creare poesia significa essere la sillaba che manca»

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July 2015 was even a better month than June and held another nice surprise for me. A great and long article on the main newspaper of the area I’m at in Italy, and it’s also online. Here is the link to the page in Italian and below, for you, is the full translation of the article in English. Hope you enjoy it. Please do click on the link to see the pictures.

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Luglio è stato ancora meglio di Giugno e mi ha riservato un’altra gradita sorpresa. Un’articolo lungo e stupendo sul principale giornale della zona in cui sono in Italia, ed è anche online. Ecco il link all’articolo in italiano mentre sotto c’è l’intera traduzione dell’articolo in inglese. Spero che vi piaccia.

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http://www.ilcittadinomb.it/stories/Cultura%20e%20Spettacoli/i-quaderni-californiani-di-anna-mosca-creare-poesia-significa-essere-la-sillab_1131416_11/
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i-quaderni-californiani-di-anna-mosca-creare-poesia-significa-essere-la-sil_9b527b14-2c6a-11e5-b047-d74f8ddc6df7_936_1134_new_header_vert_larg.

The California Notebooks by Anna Mosca “To create poetry means to be the missing syllable”
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Anna Mosca is back in Monza and carries her notebooks from California. These are made of poetry and photographs to tell us of a moment suspended in time, refined by words. They are notebooks compiled in recent years. Also online.

Maybe California is not that thing there: a little finger and index and a thumb suspended and agitated while waiting for the big kahuna, the big wave, the point of no return of a lifetime. Maybe that life is different, a moment, a moment frozen under a sun that alone says that the moment is perfect without the ocean coming to tell you it’s time for everything. That moment is what Anna Mosca was looking for. Or maybe not, she didn’t look for it, she simply looked around with the idea of describing it in her California Notebooks. These notebooks from California made of poetry and photographs that she has compiled in recent years, also online at http://www.annamosca.com, dramatically changing her relationship with poetry – and life probably.

Anna Mosca: poet, from the Monza area, stateless and displaced, photographer, former high fashion model, a bit of everything, to say the truth. But today she is especially that adjustment of lines and images that describe a new relationship with reality. To ask her, “your poetry seems suspended in the words and in the construction semantics,” marching parallel between English and Italian, she says, yes “to suspend a concept, an image, is exactly what I want to reach with my poetry, to create gaps… reflection pauses. English comes first generally, though not always. When I have to think fast, to formulate a concept, to plan, to tell about a dream, a project, a speech of the soul, it is always, inevitably, in English. English is concise, direct, incisive and short. It is light, I really like this language. It is well suited to my type of artistic communication and it’s understood by many”, but if you have to move to the form, her syncopated jazz made of words, then she says: “Georgia O’Keefe with her large oil paintings of flowers forced those people that were learning to go by too fast, to notice the inside, the details of a flower, a beauty available to everyone but too often ignored by the impelling rhythms of life. Poetry, which must necessarily be read more than once to be enjoyed, if placed strategically on the page becomes interesting, it makes you play with it, it becomes an attempt to compose and recompose, to make a sense of lines and words that often the reader would write differently. When read, and read again, when we are hit first by one verse, then by a definition only, then by a surprising ending, then again by a metaphor, we end up going back to read it once more and it takes new forms, different interpretations. It becomes, for those who take the time, a smart game, similar to the Tangram and a personal revelation, adaptable to the life experience of each one. I eliminated punctuation on purpose through the years so that the player may be involved, dedicated. My poetry has almost always been side by side with my conceptual installations, where the attention and the curiosity of the visitor were some of the main ingredients and almost always his interaction was needed.”

Anna Mosca puts art on the table: if word has a plastic sense then hers is a sculpture. “A sculpture of words and white spaces made of respires more than words. It is something that I see, that I sense, that I almost physically feel under my hands. It comes to be known mentally only a moment later. Years ago I described writing poetry as a way to carve my thoughts, I now believe I indeed sculpt more a suspended moment that materializes in front of me and, only then, I think and analyze, “If I arrange myself / coherently / between white spaces / give me a rhythm / suspended / between bodies and souls / that will transfer / transfigure / transcribe / the light on the soft / curve of waves / a second before / dark “(Summer Colors).

Some of her favorite poets? In Italy, Sandro Penna, Giuliano Mesa, Italo Testa and Giovanni Catalano. Then Franz Wright, Li-Young Lee, Rumi, Milosz, Vera Pavlova and “others that more than adhering to a tradition or writing style are traveling to space, that space between the words, written and verbal.” Poetry made of lingering times: “Certainly meditative and often silent poetry, sometimes I wish that poems were like those thoughts within us that manifest as if declared aloud, that capture our attention and take us somewhere but they are indeed very personal and often not deducible by others. There has always been this desire, this matrix, in me to reach this place but I think that very often, in earlier times, it was the cries of the pains of life, of some finished love story, or the insult on a human being, political or other, that were so loud, they were screaming louder and were taking all of my attention.”

So this is a new beginning, for a poet who in recent years has often crossed the path of Poesia Presente, the only poetry show in Italy that has affected the national scene of the poetic verses. “The goal, as I said before is to be able to communicate what is there, what we have, and not what is lacking, an exercise in gratitude, let’s say in a simple way, that opened new worlds to me. Worlds that I’m ready to see today and I hope to be able to show to others. Years ago a teacher made a strong comment on my poems, that were appreciated because they had a high dose of pain and anguish with which many people identified, and then asked me to write about joy, about fullness. I replied surprised and in a resolute way that poetry has to do with the wounds of the soul and this is what resonates with others. He responded softly to me, to use this ability of mine to play a melody, just as beautiful, but an octave higher. At the time it seemed impossible, empirical, but subconsciously I must have opened some doors… I found myself leaving my work commitments as art professor in Milan and traveling to the Californian desert, hanging around just a handful of people and enjoying different life rhythms. I was the dot in the white space, the missing syllable. It all came around and indeed I got a higher number of readers, more than I could have imagined. ”

From herself unto others: “I really like that what I do can enrich others and I think that poetry, not only mine, is having a renaissance in the world – says Anna Mosca -. I like to be surprised, to be in awe of something and also to find out I was wrong. Every time that happens is a new beginning. ”

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A. Mosca by M. Utterback on Salvation Mountain SMALL copy.

Written by Massimiliano Rossin – The Citizen Newspaper – MB

Il Cittadino, Thrursday 16 July 2015

Photos by: Gianluca Carrara, Michal Utterback and Anna Mosca

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Not Rosaries Nor Missals – Hands Cupped – July 2015

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I do less I know
I travel more the spirit’s
paths than collect good deeds

I sit and think what
a sea my life has been
stretched between lands

under tempests or requited
as oil on hot days he was
above all looking down

pouring rain to add to me
when I felt deserted
hands cupped to

collect me

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2013-07-05 16.09.05

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“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. The poems, about a spiritual journey, have the habit to pop up here, for a maximum count of seven, in July of each year. This one overlaps into August. The older poems of the collection can be found and read using the Search Window.

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Not Rosaries Nor Missals – The Look Of My Soul – July 2015

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in between loving cats
and feeding elders
roaming paths

it was the caressing
with my eyes of the olive
trees barks twisted by

the winds and the lack
of water is that the look
my soul has she had no

idea life was business
to attend same the church
and the cats and the elderly

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2013-07-05 16.08.58

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“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. The poems, about a spiritual journey, have the habit to pop up here, for a maximum count of seven, in July of each year. The older poems of the collection can be found and read using the search window.

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Not Rosaries Nor Missals – Past Locked Doors – July 2015

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I was taken
behind the altar
to the choir seats

even behind that
past locked doors
to private rooms

beautifully adorned walls
filled with secrets doors
compartments carved

floors long planned
huge desks to think at
pondering villagers’ lives

I could not stop filling
the spaces looking
around feeling everything

under my fingertips
the wood and marble
the walls encrusted

2013-07-05 15.56.34.

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“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. The poems, about a spiritual journey, have the habit to pop up here, for a maximum count of seven, in July of each year. The older poems of the collection can be found and read using the search window.

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Not Rosaries Nor Missals – Faithfulness Fulfilled – July 2015

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decades later I would
get the privilege to enter
a catholic church at night

overseeing the sea on
top of a hill beautifully
decorated dark inside

after hours I felt
honored to be able to
observe and absorb

what really that was all
about to walk by the votive
candles pick up the consumed

ones and replace them
my new unlit ones such
beautiful neatness

to read the album of
prayers just before
the altar and wish

each one to be met
faithfulness fulfilled
people to be elevated

2013-07-05 15.58.11

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“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. The poems, about a spiritual journey, have the habit to pop up here, for a maximum count of seven, in July of each year. The older poems of the collection can be found and read using the search window.

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Not Rosaries Nor Missals – Votive Candles – July 2015

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votive candles
were there for us
a wonder to look at

they didn’t smell good
then – they just burn
and piss the melted

nor small or round – they
pushed themselves up
as we peeled off excesses

we sat quietly enchanted
they made great shadows
calling us up in and out

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2013-07-05 15.58.43.

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“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. The poems, about a spiritual journey, have the habit to pop up here, for a maximum count of seven, in July of each year. The other poems of the collections can be found and read using the search window.

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Not Rosaries Nor Missals – Penalty Prayers – July 2015

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it was long gone
from my memory
the times of confession

long penalty prayers
counting the rounds
impatient to get

to the candles

before the priest
try with friends to
turn off

the flame with bare
fingers to pour the
wax on our hands

to measure resistance
and daring pulses
to learn novelties

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2013-07-05 15.59.32

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.“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. The poems, about a spiritual journey, have the habit to pop up here, for a maximum count of seven, in July of each year. The other poems of the collections can be found and read using the search window....

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