On Art 002 - Paul Iannucilli

paul iannucilli, artist, poet, infj

paul iannucilli, artist, poet, infj

Paul Iannucilli is a wondrously curious poet-writer, and I'm lucky to have scooped up an artist statement before he takes off onto big things in life.  

Paul Iannucilli's Artist Statement:

Stories have been around as long as there have been living things. All of us have them, and all of us tell them. From Neanderthal cave paintings to a cancerous cell; from the drunken musings of poets to the loud mouthed polemic of politicians, these are all stories. I am of a mind that these stories define us. Our society tells us a story of how to appropriately behave, philosophy tells us a story of what is right and wrong, corporations tell us a story of what is cool, or what we need, a romantic partner shares their story with us and informs us on how to share our own with them; this is intimacy. Also important are the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. If a person tells him or herself that they are a loser, then eventually they are going to start to believe it.

Made up stories tell us who we are as well. When we relate to, or empathize, with a character or characters, that informs us of who we are as individuals in a very pertinent and real way. You yourself are the embodiment of a beautiful and unique story that gets to have fun and interact with everyone else’s unique story. Some people are much better at telling stories; they are able to see, and tap into, and express these wonderful qualities that all of us share. They find these common threads and express them in ways most anyone can relate to. This is why I tell stories. It is the loudest expression of my humanity that I can think of. It allows me to relate to the world, other people, and myself. It lets me tell someone that they aren’t alone. It lets me see that neither am I. The poem I am including is part of my story it is my hope that you will be able to find some of your own in it as well. Thank you for sharing with me.

Little Boy Flies Across the Moon

When one is a performer
in a traveling circus sideshow
one can learn all sorts of things:
How to properly take care of animals,
or how to do a back flip in a clown suit
while drowning in cheap whiskey,
or even in some cases, how to fly.
 
By starlight and red fire glow
they gather, after the performance.
Crying away their pasts;
never forgetting them entirely.
Always there are reminders of what has been lost;
a scent, an accent, the turn of a mouth.
Little Boy drinks alone, in a pile of hay near the elephant pen.
And he drinks it all in.
Strongman’s raucous laughter and
Tarot Reader’s bitter tears and foul language,
curses hurled in Hungarian,
her native language from a life
lived long ago.
 
Little Boy flew tonight, across the trapeze
and the safety net waiting below.
He has flown all over the world.
Always finding the waiting arms to grasp him,
and then eager to pass him off to another.
Little Boy has flown for many reasons.
Money, sheer joy, bowel shaking terror,
and even for something as silly as love,
though it turned out to be the end instead.
Which all the cheap whiskey burn,
and cotton candy sweetness on his tongue
cannot ever replace.
 
The moon is big and silver and bright.
Winking down on Strongman, and Tarot Reader,
and all the rest of them.
It is taunting Little Boy.
It is calling his name in high and crystal tones.
Clear and ringing in Little Boy’s brain.
He wants it, the silver moon.
He wants to soar across its face,
across the dunes and craters.
He wants the silver light to burn right through him.
He wants to be free of the trapeze
and the ever present safety net.
Little Boy wants to let go of the bar
and fly free, across the face of the moon. 

To follow Paul and his future works visit: 

photo credit for forest image: Kristin Mullinax, the gentle INFP, photo credit for awesome shot of Paul: Rowan Fluttertree from Seattle :), moon wallpaper: Google search, will gladly attribute if source is identified.