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 I've never been very good at plunging off cliffs - pointing my nose in a direction and just going for it. I've hopped off many a low mound, even over some fences, but cliffs? surely you jest. After all, flying requires faith in the failure of gravity. And these are grave circumstances, these melancholy days of wine and pigment. Gravity doesn't just pull you down, it presses. You're under its...
Loaded with sketchbooks, ink and brush, I pace around the east side of the park trying to find a place to sit. I settle down under a modest tree. It feels like many have sat in this very spot.If I try to transpose the visual information to page, nothing happens. The marks don't find their home. The spark is absent. It will have some rudimentary form and space, but no presence. The picture says,...
I opened the creased cardboard box. What had he sent me? Inside were five camera batteries, a small framed cracked photo of the madonna, and in the corner an insulated package. If Tom has been generous enough to send five expensive batteries, what could be wrapped up so safely I wondered. After hanging the madonna behind the clock, I unwrapped the package. Inside were two delicate bundles of...
Ever higher to the white welcome in the sky on the blue wings of the dark side of sweetness.
"Look it's my friend", I said as I pointed towards the scrub jay. The bird knew to visit when a shovel was in hand. Who knows what treats might be found. As I churned through the backyard, if I found something I didn't like, a grub or a moth's chrysalis, I'd toss it to the ground nearby to make a...
After the mountains of verbiage, the best thing we can do is just paint. As soon as I let that part of me that *thinks* about color and shape make any decisions, the painting is lost. It becomes just another pleasant orchestration. I wrote something reasonably on target about it some time back, but can't find it. I think I remember the gist of it.---You're the rider on the big horse. It might...
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