If you happened to be wandering through the Blanton Museum of Art last November, you might have found yourself in a small gallery full of artistically rendered blueprints. They hung on the wall still wearing the creases from their shipment to the museum (the artist, Leon Ferrari, wanted them that way). From a few feet away, the blueprints had the look of those we’re accustomed to—designs for a space that humans can use, travel through, sit down in and hold conversations. But as you stepped closer, you discovered each blueprint sketched a reality quite unfamiliar—vast tables at which people sat facing away from one another, dozens of people walking through a winding labyrinth, a tangle of Escher-like staircases.
Thanks to the Blanton and support from Applied Materials, several of our young writers had the chance to view these blueprints (among other works) and use them as inspiration for their writing. This week, we are proud to feature one of these poems. Here, Gwen sketches a beautiful world through poetic blueprint, and like those prints in the gallery, Gwen’s rendition imparts a similar sensation—curiosity, awe, and mystery. She has much to be proud of.
Blueprints and Cathedrals
In the blueprints for my city, you will find adults six inches tall.
Each story in a building is one foot high.
When it rains, you see sad faces in the sky.
When it’s sunny, you see happy faces in the sky.
When people walk into the sanctuary, they fall into the ceiling.
Rules: no litter, no roads, and no taxes.
And don’t be modest.
There are twenty churches in there.
Have faith and hope.
Gwen, fourth grade, Bluebonnet Trail Elementary School