Chris Shadwell recently had an exhibition of his paintings, New Surrealism. As I thought about the paintings, I wrote this poem.
New Surrealism
Exhibition by Christopher Shadwell, 11/14/2025
Craggy, twisted rock,
rough elevations without a path,
like the face of a man
long lived and exposed,
no movement or growth,
only a chance genetic code, literary distraction,
industrial interruption dropping in
parts to reveal the sky tango
between day and night,
the step and response conversation
in legato rose, gold,
gliding violet and tangerine,
the shoreless water below
attempting to mimic the rhapsody.