Akiane and Foreli Kramarik, Akiane: Her Life, Her Art, Her Poetry (Thomas Nelson, 2006)
In the first section of the book, Foreli Kramarik claims that Akiane “is regarded as the youngest binary prodigy in both realistic art and poetry in recorded history.” While you're mulling on that, let me tell you about a convenience store near me. It changed management and name a couple of years ago, and right afterwards they rented a billboard about half a mile away and claimed on it that they are “rated the #1 store.” Now, I'm not sure if anyone else sees something like that and does this, but when I first saw it, I said, “by who? and where?” That billboard is still there, and I still don't have the answers. Similarly, I want to know who's calling Akiane Kramarik a “prodigy” in poetry so I can laugh at him/her/them.
The piece they chose to use on the flap is representative, at least:
“I can not stop holding my brush
On the blank canvas I sign
With blindfolded balance I paint my own eyes
Blue is the color of the mind
Do God's footprints follow his footsteps
Nobody hears what I see
We cannot trespass our creator
My sight can not wait for me”
(“My Sight Cannot Wait for Me”)
I ended up going back and taking out the [sic:]s because I'd dropped so many of them in there. I mean, come on, even Helen Steiner Rice would have burned that, and she was the worst poet in history. (And what's up with “cannot” being correct in the title and wrong twice in the piece itself? Very confusing.) I'd planned on adding a sample from another poem, but there's just too much here, and all of it is this awful. Akiane is not a worse poet than Mattie Stepanek, but she's right in that area.
Having blasted the first and last sections of the book, I figure I should address the middle. There's no denying that Kramarik is a talented visual artist, one whose technique is far, far beyond her years. The paintings themselves are impressive (and the single star in the rating is attributed solely to them). But, no, I couldn't get through a section of this book without something bugging me, and that's the interpretations under the majority of the paintings. I may be assuming here, and if so I apologize, but in reading those interpretations I get the feeling that Kramarik is one of those artists whose vision leaves no room for the validity of any interpretation of a piece that would conflict with hers. That's one of my pet peeves with artists working in any medium. It annoys me even with artists of whose work I am perhaps overly fond (there's one novelist I love in particular who spouts off on this topic on a regular basis. It drives me up the wall). She's very specific about what everything in a particular painting means, and it makes me wonder what would happen if someone were to mount a different (but still valid) interpretation of one of her paintings.
The middle third of the book: interesting, if you ignore the text. The rest of it: awful. *