Author: Jeremiah Ray

Jeremiah Ray is an interdisciplinary artist and writer living and working in the coastal Maine region. He has an MFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. His visual artwork is much like his life insofar as it is a constant journey of exploration and discovery. In his formative years, Jeremiah traveled extensively, exploring languages and cultures to fulfill a need for both adventure and as instruments of further understanding himself. Jeremiah completed his MFA in studio art with one intention - to teach. He desired to assist others in finding and honing their unique, personal language. He has always believed that art transcends verbal communication. Discovering one's voice in an individual medium and utilizing it to articulate nonverbally is the greatest obstacle and the most potent ability. In 2016 Jeremiah was diagnosed with advanced testicular cancer. This drastically shifted his perspective on art, visual and written, and solidified his firm belief that they are indeed a universal language. Straddled with the emotional burden of a cancer diagnosis, Jeremiah became increasingly aware that he often lacked the adequate vocabulary to understand and share his experiences fully. As such, during the most trying time in his life, he set the task of answering two core questions. First, what is vulnerability? And secondly, how do I communicate this with others? Still in recovery, Jeremiah has retained these as primary questions when beginning a project, understanding that vulnerability is intrinsic to being human and transcends language and culture.

now, it is cold here.
my back stiff, like a plank.
a million times
and still my first.
“okay, jeremiah..”
but i ignore the rest –
i know the routine,
this is my first time
after a million.
i want to say, “thank you”
as they look,
as my body is searched
for disease,
but i am tired.
so i lay still,
my back stiff and still,
like a plank;
after a million times,
yet always my first.

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breathe.
i have not forgotten how to,
but i wonder
how i learned.
these breaths i hold,
have you also tasted
the same air?
how did i learn this?
who held my mouth open
and put these words
in it,
words like “i”
and “you.”

I thought, ‘this is all there is.’
It was such a normal thought,
as though I had had this belief a hundred times.
It is a reexamination of so very much.
It might seem apathetic or numb.
it wasn’t –
It was true,
human – it is so very human.

the

the driiiiiping snowmelt

snow –

melt 

with a bird singing…… it says

something –

always some thing something 

some

thing

i waaaant to

speak the laaaaangue

of birds.