Time-Branches

I see people. People rushing this way and that, parts of time-branches, all reaching upward for light and freedom. Then again, it could be shrubbery between the drycleaners and the video store.

Sky-Watcher

Did early man have nick-names for each other? Mine would be sky-watcher, since I am always watching the sky. And I see reflections all the time. I often see things as spots of bright light and then shapes around.

What would your nick-name be?

What's This?

What's this? What's a piece of furniture doing here on a blog about art and poetry. Well, there is a story. I often go to estate sales for fun. Estate sales satisfy curiosity and discovery--cousins to gambling, which I deplore.

So Friday of last week I walk in and see the above table, and I say, hey, that's a good piece, and in three seconds I take the tag off, deciding to buy it. I bet it is the only good thing in the estate sale, I say to myself. I was right; a look around and there was nothing else of value, nothing else of value with heart.

The table is English, circa 1900, a scratch on top and repaired legs where they join the underside, but all the legs themselves are perfectly fine. A piece of thin early plywood has been attached to the underside beneath the drawers, of which there are two with two original brass handles. The drawers pull easily and the fine dove-tailing is very tight and hand done. The top is leather in the center. The claw feet are the heavy type (I'm not a real expert) and not to everyone's taste, and they have a technical name but I don't know it.

So, if you put a painting in a gallery window, it should stop traffic, immediately and from a distance, and if you write a poem, people want to read it over and over.

The Gates of San Antonio

The Gates of San Antonio.

Ok. That just about does it for humor for me.

Small Worlds

We all live in small worlds. Most of our lives we go to the same places, same stores, etc. Sure, we change states, go through stages, drive different cars, and we still notice the same things over and over. Here is the view from the grocery store I visited the other day. Pretty typical sunset.

This little shopping center is everything I need. Food, clothes, art supplies, office supplies. Across the street is a book store. And sunsets. Sunsets over parking lots: the new frontier.

Sometimes

Sometimes it is hard to stop and, well, smell the flowers, especially on sunny days in Texas, as the above photo proves. This passes for sun in Texas, the cloudiest place I've ever been. Oh, I'm just a sourpuss! Sure I am! Ah, red and gray, what a combination of moody awareness.

The News

The news here in SA is always the same. Almost every night this is the scene,--wait a minute--it is probably the same where you live! It isn't easy to be plugged into the modern world, the immediate disasters and be creative the same day.

When is the last time you stayed in the house or a house or a cabin for one full week?

Another Beautiful Sunny Day in Texas

Imagine having to drive to your art studio everyday and painting all day; would this look so bad? If what you do is what you love, traffic is a joy, a minor blip.

So, are you doing what you really want to do? How much do people have to do with it?

I always thought Texas was sunny. I haven't seen the sun in weeks. I feel as if I live underground.

Reams of Drivel

Say someone writes a poem and it is mediocre. Skip the point of view for a minute that whether a poem is mediocre or not is an opinion. Say the poem IS mediocre.

But the author doesn't think so. What exactly is it that blinds the author to the fact the poem is mediocre? Does any mediocre author suddenly wake up and announce, oh my gosh, everything I write is mediocre! Does such a person understand the mediocrity factor unconsciously?

I know people who are writing reams of drivel.

But maybe I am, too. Are you?

Revision

Let's say you write a poem, and you think it is good, and 'done.' Then later, the next week, you notice that several lines are not right, and you decide they need to be changed. And so you change them. But why didn't you see what needed to me changed in the first place? What is the process where something changes, new correctness is to be made, but why not at first. Sometimes the first way is the right way, of course. The next day the artwork is looked at with fresh eyes, and changes are made. Maybe the brain gets tired, or is so used to seeing something one way all day, an artwork can't be seen for what it is.

I was working on a painting today and then noticed that the top horizontal line was too low and the bottom horizontal line was too high. Why didn't I notice it at first? How many times have I had to change the color in a painting?

Which leads to the next question. When art is mediocre...

Good Evening!

Good evening! Have you seen this green minivan? Sure you have. Did you know there are hardly any art galleries in SA? But there are a lot of cars. And why not! What is your plan, anyway? Soon, the cars above will be paying tolls to get to their homes. Tolls in Texas! Ha! The RE taxes on the average house is $6,000 a year, the water bills reach $135 a month in the summer, HOA's can be $700 a year, the utilities $150 a month, the phone $110 a month, the cable $118 a month, the cell phones $110 a month, gas $200 a month, car insurance $300 a month---all this before food, water softener salt, bottled water (you don't really want to drink the water here) and the rest of stuff like ink for the printer. Now they will put in tolls.

How many hours did Van Gogh spend sitting on highways? What is the trade for you?

Good Morning!

Good morning! Another cheerful morning in SA. Have you seen this truck? Sure you have. Big ugly non-descript truck blocking your way. Think about this first, though; what are you doing on the road, driving on the road in the dark, in the rain? Where are you going?