I am interested in the ways images and words interact.

On January 1, 2014 I began a 365 project, uploading a photo a day for the year. As I took and shared picture after picture, the project became more than I thought it would. It asked me to pay attention. It offered a creative practice that connected me to language and my senses. It honored the complexities of my ordinary life.

At the end of the year, I gathered the images into a book and found I had 300+ pages of photos and words and ideas and experiences. I wanted to continue the project, with a new spin. What if each photo were accompanied by a paragraph, something akin to a poem, but without the pressure toward perfection that poetry carries?

Thus, Pics and Paragraphs.

I am not a photographer. I don’t have multiple lenses or understand aperture and ISO numbers. I mostly try to capture little visual representations of the day with my iPhone and occasionally pull out the big guns with my Nikon DSLR and its kit lens. I am, however, a poet and essayist and teacher of writing. I’ve facilitated workshops on ekphrastic poetry — poems written in response to works of art — for the Blanton Museum, where one of my own poems hangs next to the striking painting that inspired it.

Pics and Paragraphs is my daily ekphrasis. It’s my attempt to make space for glimpses. And I hope that in those glimpses we will see, over time, a larger world.

Vivé Griffith

Austin, Texas


2 thoughts on “About

  1. Very nice! Your credo (especially “I hope that in those glimpses we will see, over time, a larger world) reminds me of this (last 2 lines especially, but it feels criminal to divorce them from the rest of the stanza):

    A blue pigeon it is, that circles the blue sky,
    On sidelong wing, around and round and round.
    A white pigeon it is, that flutters to the ground,
    Grown tired of flight. Like a dark rabbi, I
    Observed, when young, the nature of mankind,
    In lordly study. Every day, I found
    Man proved a gobbet in my mincing world.
    Like a rose rabbi, later, I pursued,
    And still pursue, the origin and course
    Of love, but until now I never knew
    That fluttering things have so distinct a shade.

    (“Le Monocle de Mon Oncle,” Wallace Stevens, 1918. Full poem here: http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/le-monocle-de-mon-oncle)


    • Ah, Rachel, what better compliment than to remind you of anything Wallace Stevens. And how breathtaking that stanza. I don’t claim “lordly study,” but if I can bring some reverence to my very everyday world, I’ll have done something worth doing. Thank you.

      Liked by 1 person

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