Beal writes a poem for several colors of DMC thread, identifying them only by the number assigned to the colors. But what descriptions he presents. Let me tell you about 930, deep gray-blue, like granite. On it he embroiders a yellow dragon, a gummy yellow, limned with chartreuse. Can’t you just see it? Feel it? Then there are the reds that are so dear to Beal’s heart. Well, you just have to read this wonderful collection of poems for yourself.
My first re-read of this book since an embroidery course at Arrowmont in 2011. Can't say it's a terribly exciting or worthwhile read, but it does help when trying to fall back in love with color.
This book of poems based on DMC thread colors is fun. The poems are free verse and are best read outloud. Beal writes about his fascination with color and fabric and its connection to his life, especially his childhood. He writes about the life and death of both of his parents and his boyhood crush on his aunt. My favorite poems are 742, which commemorates his father, 318, about his good cat Gus,and 321, about his young mother and aunt dressing in their finery to go out with his father and uncle. Who doesn't remember sitting and watching their mother get ready for a night out? Putting on make, up, spritzing herself with perfume. Beal brings all to life. Some of his poems are definately more gimmick than substance, but the gems are really wonderful.
It's twee. It's precious. And most of the poetry between the covers is doggerel. I should have known by the concept--Beal used the colors of DMC embroidery floss as a stand-in for a Muse. I hope Calliope and the girls don't hunt the poor guy down--I'm sure he meant well.
I'm sure Mr. Beal is a fantastic embroiderer, but he's not so much of a poet. To quote that old meanie Truman Capote, whom I love: "That's not writing. That's typing."