Wednesday, March 14, 2007

"Before Going to Martins Ferry to Visit James Wright's Ghost I stop at Wheeling, West Virginia"

When I went on my Ohio River Journey in 2005, one of the most important stops along the way was Martins Ferry, Ohio. That is the hometown of James Wright, one of my favorite poets. This past Christmas break, Allen, Buddha, and I went back to Martins Ferry to take video footage for a film I wanted to make about James Wright and his influence on me. I worked on the film last weekend, for many hours. It turned out to be 50 minutes long. Tonight, I gathered a few clips together and made a short film. I enjoy making the short films.I consider anything under 10 minutes to be short, but I want to try to stay in the 2-3 minute range. I want to continue working on imagery and pacing. I am finding it a challenge to work with images instead of words. But all in all, it will be good for me to continue practicing. If nothing else, it will, I hope, make me more observant. Plus they are fun to do!


Anonymous said...

Wow! Love this. Love the poem, too. Teagrapple

alphawoman said...

Very cool.

Theresa Williams said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Don Iannone said...

Hi Theresa,

A friend from Santa Fe (Dan Shimp) passed along the link to this post. He and I are both from Martins Ferry.

I appreciated your short movie and of course I am a fan of James Wright.

I am a poet and live in Cleveland. You can locate some of my poetry here:


Dan has a blog:

Best wishes and thanks again.

Don Iannone

Kristin said...

Great work.



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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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