Lyra
acrylic prints using a Gellli plate, 6" x 6"
Cynthia Yatchman is a Seattle based artist and art instructor. A former ceramicist, she received her B.F.A. in painting (UW). She switched from 3D to 2D and has remained there ever since. She works primarily on paintings, prints and collages. Her art is housed in numerous public and private collections. She has exhibited on both coasts, extensively in the Northwest, including shows at Seattle University, SPU, Shoreline Community College, the Tacoma and Seattle Convention Centers and the Pacific Science Center. She is, a member of the Seattle Print Art Association and Women Painters of Washington.
Waiting Room
Py Trumm
A room too small for the vacuous personalities checking in Some are stuffed until they’ve been uncorked Bottled up after years of sitting on the shelf In the seats spread out with no cushioned support A woman tucks her breasts and lets their bulbous presence scoop into the stale lighting Cutting shadows like lines in the bathroom This one is out of order Tightly closed A sign with cornered tape unfurls itself Dust creeps into its curved peel I force myself to peel up from the chair Sit tall Sit with dignity Sit in regality I will not lose my presence in a room built for beggars I pull out a book to read from my backpack It is a shield My knowledge can’t be taken from me The large breasted woman shaped like a bonobo shatters my safe illusion “What is that book about? I haven’t read a book since I was a kid.” “What did you like to do as a kid?” Her hunch straightens as she expresses a recollection of swimming In the summer she would flop her hair into the waves Let the salted laps lick at her curls Flip it back and pretend to be a forefather Ignoring the sun’s departure A memory splotches into my mind like a Rorschach test I am in the water kicking my legs with a friend He is now dead The man on the side mentions his childhood passion too I have already bled out of the conversation Still waiting For my name to be called back For my turn to beg for mental health help The two waiting hunches are both lit up now Pinging conversation I am not broken I am capable of being the cultivator of connection Attempting to be polite because that is what housed, sane people do They pretend