Where Art Is Made


Where Art Is Made

We are builders, makers, hopers, doers.

From clunkers and junkers,

out of shards and clay,

we shape and frame, sort and stir.

Each of us turning grime into gold.


Against fence and lock,

a door swings, a window opens,

a sunflower reaches for a fresh day.


Everything is always growing.


Dirt dusts places not yet alive

and in this gravel of possibility,

we honor the old and worn, the faded and frail,

know that good bones are worth holding.


Deep against rock, trains clack and roll,

we press into paper, scissors and paint,

splattered, gathered, mixed.


With each ding-ding-ding, solid freight

floats our dreams and we clatter, wide awake

in dark, in light, in love and hope.


The day opens, the sky widens, you are here.

Hand in hand, arm in arm, each grip

is a dare to you declared:


Breathe, work, sear and sculpt.

Sew and hold, paint and saw.

Mix and mingle. Break rules, break ground.

Create your self, your world, your now.


On the bridge of progress, we dance and dive,

wonder, wander, taste and make.


With each how and why and what next?

we dig in and reach out

to build in the mind,

a step, a ladder, another sky.


Let’s scaffold the unknown.

In every thing, promise.


— Drew Myron


I love a good collaboration, and this special project brought together all my faves: image, sound & words.

"Where Art Is Made," by Futuristic Films, celebrates the many makers who continue to shape and define the River North Art District (RiNo) in Denver, Colorado. Conceived by Tracy Weil, RiNo's Co-Founder/Creative Director, the film features the spoken word talent of Toluwanimi Obiwole, Denver's first Youth Poet Laureate (2015), and an original poem by Drew Myron (me!). 

As we celebrate National Poetry Month, this artful blend is proof that poetry lives in everything, everywhere, every day.




It's Poetry Month. Let's Write! 

According to Chinese tradition, a garden landscape without poetry is not complete. Poetry, along with rocks, architecture, water, and plants, is one of the five necessary elements of a Chinese garden. 

I'm honored to celebrate National Poetry Month at the Lan Su Chinese Garden in Portland, Oregon. Please join me for this free workshop. 

Come to Your Senses
 a writing workshop

Lan Su Chinese Garden 
Portland, Oregon 

Wednesday April 12, 2017

3 to 4:30pm

Free with admission. 

Writing comes alive with the detail our senses provide. Using the sense of smell as a trigger, we’ll focus on fresh writing with prompts and practices designed to energize and inspire. 

From poetry to prose, fact to fiction, this 90-minute workshop will serve as a creative springboard in which you’ll generate new work, meet other writers, and share experiences that will help shape, shift and propel your own writing.

This workshop is free with admission to Lan Su Garden, and open to writers of all ages, experience & interests. No registration is required. Drop in, bring pen, paper & your writing mind. 

About Lan Su Chinese Garden
One of Portland, Oregon’s greatest treasures, Lan Su Chinese Garden is more than just a beautiful botanic garden. It’s an inspiring experience based on a 2,000-year-old Chinese tradition that blends art, architecture, design and nature in perfect harmony. 

About the Instructor
Drew Myron is a former newspaper reporter and editor who has covered news, arts, entertainment and travel for AOL, Northwest Best Places and other publications. For over 15 years, she’s headed a marketing communications company specializing in literacy, health and advocacy for the vulnerable. Drew is the author of several books and art collaborations.



Love that line!


[Art] has been reduced to an insult:

"It's a bunch of squiggles that my kid could do" . . .

You want to know how I think art should be taught to children?

Take them to a museum and say, "This is art, and you can't do it." 


— An Object of Beauty 
a novel by Steve Martin 




Daffodils Save the Day


 This is how to bloom

  — for Dee, of daffodil season


And you,

From damp earth

and newborn grass

Born among daffodils.


The sky strains to grow.

You are ruffled edge,

a burn of gold.


And you, in resurrection

In this tender-sun season 

Made from burden and stone


In an urgent quiet, whisper

What are you waiting for?


— Drew Myron


How to Be Thankful


Talking about the weather is a sure sign of:

1) A dull wit.

2) An old crank.

3) A long winter.

Yes, all three! It's been a long, wet, gray winter in Oregon. But, wait, this is not a weather report. This is my how-to-survive guide.

A Guide to Gratitude
Or How to Be Thankful When Life is Sucking The Life Out of You

Drink Coffee
Or tea, warm milk, warm water . . . anything that soothes.

Watch Flowers Grow
So much better than watching paint dry or water boil. Did you know daffodils — my favorite flower — are only $2 a bunch? That's a pop of sunshine for less than a latte! Go ahead, splurge. 

Wear Something Soft
I love cashmere, and regularly stalk Goodwill for thrifty luxury. But a soft scarf works too, or snuggly mittens, a smooth blanket. The world can feel so hard, cocoon in softness.  

Caution: Don't park yourself in comfy clothing. Bursts of comfort are good. Living in sweats (or yoga pants) is bad. 

Bathe in Books
This is a two-for-one pick-me-up: take a bath and bring a book. Or skip the bath and just bathe in words. Either way, you'll immerse yourself in sensory pleasure. 

Eat with a Friend
Or drink and eat. Try not to drink alone or eat junk food alone (for me, chips and cookies are guilty binges devoured in the shame of solitary over-indulgence). Still, to be of healthy mind and body, I try to eat with others. And rarely drink alone — that's just sad. 


I loath exercise until I actually do it, and then I wonder why I didn't get moving sooner. When you're feeling low the pit of lethary is deep, so you gotta start small. Get off the couch, then out of the house, then take a walk around the block. Fresh air is invigorating, no matter the weather. And that first jolt is usually enough to make you want more. 

Start easy. One page. One line, even. You're allowed to write junk. You're allowed to babble. This is just for you. Keep the pen moving. Keep your mind open. Just write. Like moving your body, moving the pen across the page reinforces that you can. Keep on. As Naomi Shihab Nye says, "No one feels worse after writing."

Get a Chia
I don't like dirt or gardening and rarely remember to water the plants. But my Dad — bless his goofy heart — recently sent me a Chia pet. Remember those ceramic pots shaped into animals and objects in which you place seeds and they magically sprout? Yes, so kitschy and corny and fun. 

For sun, for spring, for just a hint of light in the sky. For patience.

Forget Yourself

Read with a child. Make soup for the sick. Hold hands with the lonely. Listen to a neighbor. In short, get out of your head and into the world. There's a lot of hurt, be a balm. 

How do you get through? 


It's Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation for people, places, things and more. Joy contracts and expands in relation to our gratitude. What are you thankful for today?