Some have a need for Whiskey. Or cigarettes. I have a need to smear charcoal with my fingers. My fingers (and side of palm) turn jet black. Sometimes, portraits come out of random parts of my creative spirit. Like this one I named "Edgar."
Here is a collaboration between my daughter and me, while we sat in the cabin and worked on miscellaneous art projects. This was after I inked parts of my hair aqua blue unknowingly from a broken pen. My face was splattered with ink. She laughed.
"It's even up my nose!" I said when I looked in the mirror. We were in the creative "zone."
collaboration in effect. daughter has studied my book on rothko in front of the fireplace on a cold day. she has to figure out what he was trying to say; she has to figure out for herself how color and the force of a brush stroke equate a "voice."
The snowy days do not keep me down. Rather, they are wells of inspiration and childish delight. I took this shot around 7 am, after spending two hours writing, and commencing with a green tea latte and revising one short fiction story along with Coffitivity. My doggy was doing the business while I waited at the door.
After a splendid Valentine's Day date and the will to just stay put today, I am making homemade gluten-free pretzels (plenty of ways of use up the assortment of mustards in the cabin) and read this sweet little book on creativity: Making Art a Practice by Cat Bennett. I found it at the library in a roaming daze, a favorite state of mine in a library. I work out a little. I hike with the gent. I do a few more push-ups here and there while waiting for this or that. Here's to small joys...and hoping I don't burn the pretzels now...no promises. It's a carb night! I can feel it...screw balance on a Saturday night, I say.
Five dollars for a forestry permit and an off-roading truck equate an afternoon of good finds. Attached are a few exhibits. May you feel merry and wise, or just one, I guess.
Happy holidays to you and yours.....
I'm caught in a good inner calm of focused energy, which flourishes with hungry reading spells, so all social media and networking slide away. A morning mantra is granted as well. Here's to your inner harmony maker.
Self-portrait: morning life ritual to writing and drinking hot tea to the sound of pin-drop silence. (Slackline box on floor. Should put that away.)
There is no sound of one headlight. You might not notice it in the city. Until you get way outside the county lines. Then, your headlights shine on an old abandoned ski resort, even the little rental cabins left astray, and then you know something is up. Something is up with winter places in the summer, with rusted out ski lifts and creaky doors where you know rats have danced since the days people left. At the threshold of such a place and in the dying light of day, do you enter?
I have found such a place on the way back to the cabin. And it is an imagination goldmine. I hope you have places like this, too....
The weekend library visit prompts much deliberation each day I devote to reading prose, poetry, philosophy. Here is an excerpt from one book that engages me.
“One will again suffer, grow old, and die. Thus for Buddhists the final goal should be a supramundane path, one that leads out of cyclical existence altogether and which results in either state of Buddhahood or at least the more limited nirvana of an arhat or solitary realizer.”
Introduction to Tibetan Buddhism, John Powers
Here are some images from my mundane world…which is close to earthbound nirvana for me. A random sample from living a simple life:
Low-fi image. Handheld photograph on my way to warm up old coffee from the day's pot. This was before the motion to watch another special episode of our series. Our only sofa time. But this here, is a good glimmer of the world's electric colors in the moonlight...
"Your studio is a mess," he says.
"As it should be," I say.
A change in the weather, a change in mind. Pizza for lunch is always appropriate on a Friday. Feels good to say such a truism. You can say it, too.