© 1993-2017 | All artwork by Pieter Vanderbeck.

Photographs by Nathaniel Becker & Brendan Wiltse.

Photographs of drawings by Brett Rutherford.

Pieter Vanderbeck

7 Governor Street

Providence, RI 02906

FIRE AND STARS

Opus 27190

24 MARCH 2014

Sparks rise with crackling smoke

in circled spirals through the pines, 

the glowing warmth of burning logs

warming hands and feet beside the stone ring.

With eyes it looks upward,

he the maker of the thing,

to contemplate the night,

to speak with it within its midst,

while birds around are sleeping,

and glowing eyes prowl forest spaces.

What hour of night is it?

Where is the Sun on its last and next horizon?

Where is the Moon?

Up there, where races in the Wind

a trail of broken reuniting cloud,

the Universe lies hidden, by vapors of the Earth obscured.

He knows it.

He traces in the dirt with nearby branch a rune,

recognition to the Air, the Earth, the Genius,

a companionship and an admiration.

FIRE

Opus 27259

12 JULY 2014

Old memories from ancient times,

before the mind, before man,

rekindled in sparks and smoke,

the primal crackling

that calls deeds we know not of;

great momentous, villainous, terrible; 

and there for sense, perception.

Strike the match, gather kindling

within the circles of stones.

Up into the trees it goes, 

among those still living, standing,

to address the stars and night,

of man's half-conscious hand.

PVB

THE ONE THAT

GOT AWAY

Opus 27770

26 September 2015

Two fish—of good size

Pan—size

Legal size!

One perch—one trout,

lying side-by-side.

The knife is taken,

to gut the first.

The point touches.

It jumps—back into the river.

Not dead!

It swims away!

Imagine!

Ten minutes out of water, maybe fifteen!

And there it goes!

Well, at least the trout is left.

That stays dead.

Better than nothing.

The perch, hook removed, 

gets to live out its short life.

PVB

RAIN

Opus 27610

1 June 2015

Down from the slopes

run angled rivulets

of torrentual coursing white

from high soaked mountains

still yet hidden in cloud.

Drifting apart and closing in 

the vapors in their subtle shades

direct the spray of falling mist

that soaks the fern spruce birch forest

with pools of mirrored puddles

receiving radial concetrics

of the high-born plunging droplets.