
hi. it's me. maura vazakas. artist, pianist, poet, and writer....whew.... oh, and former new yorker, i mean i grew up there from birth to 22 years - you know the formative ones, lasting impression ones - the best years of my life ones - i kinda still have an accent.
i live to paint and to explore the fundamentals of creativity. i like things that challenge the mind. i'm at my best in the studio, listening to classical music (hands down, prokofiev is my fave. next in line is rachmaninov followed very closely by mr. genius himself, tchaikovsky. funny, they are all russian composers - i'm 1/4 russian), and creating. my paintings have been shown in galleries and museums in san diego, scottsdale, san francisco, los angeles, chicago, dallas and boston. i began drawing at an early age, inspired by my artist mother. museums and galleries of new york were frequent weekend visits, checking out favorite artists such as dali, picasso, and hans hal. i soaked up everything. life was exciting. i pursued a career in music, attending the juillard school and going on to get a masters in piano performance. but my love of art always reigned. in recent years i have written poetry and started on 3 novels. i love reading nabakov, updike, and capote.
i also love architecture. interesting buildings, old ones. history. which brings me to my next point, and i welcome feedback form you guys out there in computer land. i am concerned about how this country tears down old buildings, replacing them with new ones, leveling old barns to build monstrous malls. where is our history, our
heritage going? mozart's cafe in salzburg (he recently celebrated his 250th birthday) is still in existence. the cathedral, where he played organ and conducted his music, is still standing. i am tired of history being lost forever.
i guess that's about it.....oh yeah, i have a website mauravazakas.com check
it out!
Maura also has a dog that plays the piano... K.F.
a light on linden street
was always luminous,
except one night
when i slipped my correspondence
into a mail chute,
i noticed an uneven
flickering of light,
a giant shadow
making painterly gestures
across the walls.
a nurse buzzed,
holding a teacup and a lighted candle,
wearing a dress with bare shoulders.
she whistled for her
slightly scandalous entourage
of six venetian dancers
and costumed animals.
soon the building shook,
puffs of purple smoke
escaped from a row of six chimneys
and odd-shaped peepholes.
i crouched down,
peeked through a padlocked window,
my jaw dropped in amazement.
the world is old.
london is inventing an audience.
by maura vazakas
from "when travel was affordable