5/21 Weekly creativity contest winners & new prompt

Well, this week there was positively no way to chose a winner between two beautiful and highly original pieces of art submitted for the prompt “little black dress.” Instead, they both win (and each will receive a $10 amazon gift certificate). I wouldn’t say that either of these pieces of art are good examples of “keeping the bar low,” but hopefully they won’t intimidate the rest of us! I’m also posting two text entries from Creative Construction commenters–a poem from Cathy Ann Coley and a humorous prose piece from Jenn that we can probably ALL relate to–see those two pieces after the jump. The winners:

From artist Dale Meister, a mixed media piece on watercolor paper (read about Dale’s creative process for this entry at her personal blog):

Nice work, Dale! The second winner is puzzle-maker Juliet Bell, who submitted an extremely intricate, hand-cut wooden puzzle containing three figurals and measuring approximately 14” tall by 4.5” (some of her work is listed at eBay):

This week’s prompt: “The last time you kissed me.”
Use the prompt however you like. All media are welcome. Please e-mail your entries to creativereality@live.com by midnight on Tuesday, May 27. The winning entry receives a $10 gift certificate to amazon.com. Writers should include their submission directly in the body text of their e-mail. Visual artists and photographers should attach an image of their work as a jpeg. Enter as often as you like; multiple submissions for a single prompt are welcome. There is no limit to how many times you can win the weekly contest, either. (You do not have to be a contributor to this blog in order to enter. All are invited to participate.) Remember, the point here is to stimulate your output, not to create a masterpiece. Keep the bar low and see what happens. For more info, read the original contest blog post.

Two text entries for “little black dress”:

From Cathy Ann Coley:

Little Black Dress

Once upon a time a long time ago, I wore a little black dress.

It was sleeveless scoopnecked, empire waistlined with a string of pearls,
And a swingy little skirt that skimmed the tip top of my thighs.

It was vintage, very Audrey Hepburn, but a little more risqué than her Holly Golightly, And if such a thing can happen, I was in love with that dress.

I was a little bit in love with myself when I entered a party, a bar, a poetry reading.
A little bit scared to walk back out, knowing male eyes had followed me
Up and down the room,
Up and down my body in that little black dress.
That little black dress was dangerous.
Like the cigarette I smoked then, too.

I was a little self destructive, especially in that dress,
A little falling in love with bad boys, musicians, painters and poets.

It took me until the birth of my second son to
Dig it out of my closet,
Pack it away,
Donate it to a charity vintage sale.

Maybe another young woman below the age of 25, skinny and lovely,
Feels that kind of danger now, an evening of all eyes on her
Under the light of a blue moon,
That thrill, the rollercoaster, the adventure that is that dress.

From Jenn:

Why don’t they make girdles for average-sized women? Or maybe they do, but I’m too cheap to shop anywhere else but T.J. Maxx. If you weight 330 lbs, there’s pretty much no problem with an extra 10 pounds. But what if you weigh 145, and through the miracles of lycra, spandex, and whalebone, you could magically transform yourself to 135? That’s the difference between “has been” and “still has” in my mind.

I have this little black dress back from before I had a child. It was, of course, on sale at T.J. Maxx, but it’s an Elie Tahari and it’s like a second skin. Pre-baby I could, as the kids say today, “rock it.” Now, I’m going to a wedding this weekend and I have two dresses hanging off of my window. The Little Black Dress and the School Marm Special. A beach wedding, in Orleans, my not-often-washed hair freshly washed, my not-often-made-up face with just a touch of make-up, sunset, and… a high-necked, plaid, floor length, gingham, ruffle collared, elastic-wristed polyester frock. Not really, but that’s what the other dress makes me feel like.

My sister told me that Paris Hilton recently quipped that another celebrity’s hind end looked like someone filled a two trash bags with cottage cheese. She could just as easily have been referring to my stomach. All I need is a girdle to rein it all in, so that I may re-live, for two hours, at sunset, on a beach, my past glory in the Little Black Dress.