WORDS everywhere . . .

[ 20 ] Summer Class Shots - 4 >>> Final Photos

2007-09-06T16:26:00.001-04:00

These photographs are the 'last of the summer wine', so to speak. The first two photos were taken during my class at the Cincinnati Art Academy, and the rest of the photos were uploaded as part of a ten week internet online class --- The Art of Digital Photography. Luckily, both classes were taken before the terrifically hot weather set in over our area of the country. I'm really looking forward to the cooler fall weather ahead when I can get out and walk wherever I want without battling high heat and even higher humidity.

The Sanctuary of St. Anthony Friary, Cincinnati, OH

Upper Section of the Contemporary Art Center, Cincinnati, OH

White Balance Study

Macro Shot of Working Bee Emerging from a Hosta Bloom

Macro Shot of Pigeon, Fountain Square, Downtown Cincinnati, OH

Macro Triptych

[ 19 ] Summer Class Shots - 3

2007-09-01T13:55:00.000-04:00

These four images were basically non-serious 'exercizes' in photo manipulation using Photoshop to create visual fantasies. I enjoy working this way once in awhile, but I'd much rather work more realistically, where while still manipulating the images in PS, I'm creating them with more subtle, less noticeable effects. However, these four images were fun to create, and they helped the student and child in me to play with the power and the possibilities built into the software. I must admit the fantasy aspect of creating one's own world from the already existing one is alluring, but the powers you are given are limited. Sooner or later one must return and face reality. I guess I'm still reflecting on the superpower theme mentioned in the previous post.

(Remember to click the images to see enlarged views.)

7th Street in Crisis, Cincinnati, OH
One shot used to make this image. Of course, lots of warping and other tricks. A rather ordinary and undistinguished shot otherwise.

Entertainer on Stiltz
Three images combined; the two figures were photographed at a local park celebration near my home and then transported to downtown Cincinnati.

Lurker in the Windows
One background image taken in downtown Cincinnati and 8 images of myself taken a few years ago during a self-portrait photography class (7 face shots and one shadowed image of my hands).

Cold Future
Four images used: a building along the Kentucky banks of the Ohio River across from downtown Cincinnati; ice dripping from power lines in front of my house; ice coated clothespins from my neighbor's backyard; the side of my ice covered car makes a fine sky background.

[ 18 ] Summer Class Shots - 2

2007-08-29T18:56:00.000-04:00

As a photographer, walking the streets in downtown Cincinnati and it's surrounding neighborboods provides me with endless visual inspiration. Sometimes entire buildings draw my attention; however, more often than not, I find myself attracted to simple, interesting architectural shapes and details. Selecting the best images from an afternoon's photoshoot and tossing out those that don't please me gives me a sense of control that doesn't exist in other areas of my life. Processing the images gives me additional pleasure as well. Working with things -- manmade, sturdy, ordered -- sometimes helps me to balance myself in the midst of so much disorder and chaos I see around me and prepares me for what I will be hearing later on the 6 o'clock news. Stopping time with my camera gives me a break from what really matters and allows me to later return to 'one' moment to contemplate more carefully what really was (is) going on in my life. Stopping time! I never thought of it this way before. I've often wondered what it would be like to have real superpowers. Stopping time! . . . now that's pretty good for starters, isn't it?

Downtown Diptych, Cincinnati, OH

US Bank Detail, Cincinnati, OH

Mt. Adams, Cincinnati, OH

[ 17 ] A Very Good Read

2007-08-28T10:26:00.001-04:00

The Book Thief

by Markus Zusak

From The Washington Post's Book World review: "Death, it turns out, is not proud.
The narrator of The Book Thief is many things -- sardonic, wry, darkly humorous, compassionate -- but not especially proud. As author Marcus Zusak channels him, Death -- who doesn't carry a scythe but gets a kick out of the idea -- is as afraid of humans as humans are of him."

[ 16 ] Summer Class Shots - 1

2007-08-27T17:07:00.000-04:00

Along Central Parkway, Cincinnati, OH

This summer I've taken a couple of classes to keep myself busy. One was an online photography class and the other was a Photoshop class designed for digital photographers offered at The Cincinnati Art Academy. Each class got me out of the house and 'into the field' to grab new shots. I'll be posting more over the next few days.

Atop the Post-Times Star Building, Cincinnati, OH

Stairs to the Purple People Pedestrian Bridge, Cincinnati, OH

[ 15 ] Our World is Broken

2007-04-17T21:30:00.000-04:00

Our world is broken in all sorts of ways. Nations are waging war with one another over land, freedom, power, religion. We are killing one another for all kinds of reasons. Nations are unwilling to turn the tide and become civil with one another, totally unwilling to forgive one another, totally unwilling to set aside past and present violence in order to find new ways of starting over. Individuals too are finding themselves in so much pain and mental oppression, mental depression. Some are giving up altogether, unable to cling to or touch whatever hope is left for them, if indeed there is any hope left at all. Some of us have become lost in unknown lands where we don’t have any way to turn to find a way back to the Eden-like dream we once thought possible. A few spiral so far into despair and depression that revenge and suicide become odd perversions of resolution and hope. I know that I’m exaggerating just about everything right now because I find myself so emotionally bent, but, then again, am I really over-exaggerating, or am I just feeling a short-lived sadness for the moment only, praying that tomorrow will drift into view and make everything magically safe again?

I am shaken to the core with what has happened on the Virginia Tech campus this past Monday, April 16, 2007. 33 dead, 1 killer, 32 victims. It seems so wasteful. The entire world is mourning on some level, surely our nation is mourning, families are mourning, loved ones, friends are mourning. The media has already become a circus, competing for answers as well as ratings, prematurely pointing fingers, yes, pointing fingers as if being able to blame another person or some institution will solve everything and perfectly heal what is happening to our nation and to ourselves. If we can just find someone or something to bear the burden of blame, then everything will aright itself and the rest of us can once again not feel guilty. If it were only this easy. But it’s never this easy, is it?

I’m hoping that we never find the definitive source for blame for what has happened because deep down I believe that all of us, each and every one of us bears some burden of responsibility for what has happened on the Virginia Tech campus, beginning especially with myself. All together we have helped sculpt the world we see around us, and we have influenced the actions of those with whom we cohabit. I say this with complete confidence even though I don’t have the answers or solutions myself.

I had a doctor’s appointment this morning, a routine checkup. All went well. Afterwards I drove to Frisch’s and ordered a comfortable breakfast of scrambled eggs, ham, decaf. When running errands, I always travel with a book to read in case I have to wait in traffic or, in this case, for my food order to arrive. Tears began to well up as I started to read. I was embarrassed to be seen this way publicly so I didn’t allow myself to sob my guts out as I would have if I had been in the privacy of my own home. Yesterday’s tragedy became even more poignant because this past weekend I had started reading Jodi Picoult’s newest book, Nineteen Minutes, a novel with themes reminiscent of the tragedy at Columbine High School several years ago. It’s no coincidence. There are no coincidences right now. All things in my life are converging for a reason. I’m taking this as some kind of personal sign, a revelation of sorts, a call to reexamine my own journey and to begin sorting through my own deeply planted ideas about life and death and all that happens in between. In fact, I need to sort through EVERYTHING. I think we all do this now and then just as a matter course, but tragedy tends to jolt us more immediately into this inner dialogue that becomes both scary and necessary.

This afternoon, after working on a website which I am close to finishing, I needed to be outside in the sunshine with my camera. It was the wrong time of day for getting really good shots, but that didn’t matter. I just needed to get away from the news and from being alone with my thoughts. I took over a hundred pictures, an easy thing to do in this digital age, and here are three-plus shots that I want to share here on the blog. One of them is a self portrait that shows me looking in all directions, and the two other ones illustrate order, human-made order. I’m supposing that’s what I needed to find amidst all this tragic chaos around me.

[ 14 ] Nature's Mantra . . .

2007-03-21T17:52:00.000-04:00

persistence . . . . . persistence . . . . . persistence

[ 13 ] The Artist Must Value the Work First

2007-03-14T22:04:00.000-04:00

Red Moons

“In an age of dazzling, gorgeous, mass media, highly duplicable and inherently on a mass scale, there is profound value in an art whose medium is one individual’s voice---and the audience’s voice, not necessarily the artist’s! Because poetry is inherently . . . on an individual, intimate scale, we value it.”
---Robert Pinsky (American poet, essayist, literary critic, and translator)

I ran into this quotation in the page-a-day calendar I tear away daily, and I found myself totally aligned with its message and intent. Though I know very little about Robert Pinsky and his work, I feel that Pinsky’s words can easily apply to many creative endeavors, not just to poetry in particular. In the late 80’s, I developed an artist statement which included the following: “I believe that the making of art is primarily for the benefit of the artist. If what the artist has created communicates messages and feeling to others, then it is because of the universality of the human experience that is speaking through the work of art.” I must be honest when I say that I enjoy discovering affirmations for my own deeply felt ideas. Pinsky’s line of thought is one of those affirmations.

Artists are driven to do what they do for many reasons, if indeed reasons are even necessary to make art, but I firmly believe that the selfish reasons, like doing it to please one’s self, are not only satisfactory but commendable and undeniably essential to creating powerfully original work. Perhaps, with this reasoning at work while we are sweating and stewing and celebrating in our studios, the final outcome results in a truly pure, a truly honest and gut-wrenching expression of how we think and feel. Personally, I can trust this kind of art. I can more readily believe in an artist’s serious intentions whether I agree with them or not. I would even venture to assume that when an artist willingly operates from these ‘selfish’ motives as part of the process (though, in reality, ‘selfishness’ may not be part of the motivation at all), then perhaps there is an even greater possibility of producing an original and honest result.

Poetry and all art forms must continue to strive for originality. As artists, we find ourselves in constant warfare with foreign thoughts and images. We are tempted to hear and follow the voices of those we admire and envy. Until we are able to fight off these visual and verbal distractions and the temptation to repeat someone else’s masterpiece, we will find it impossible to communicate anything of our very own, and deep down inside our conscious and unconscious layers, we will not be satisfied and content with what we have created. At such times, we must be patient with ourselves and gentle with our judgments about our work. When striving for art to emerge from mysterious places within, we can always find hope in new beginnings, starting over, trusting in the next idea. After many beginnings and starts, perhaps, just perhaps, after weeks, months, years of waiting, working and failing, a miracle will rise to the surface. Hopefully, as I dare to paraphrase what Pinsky says, what really has happened is: “Because all art, like poetry, is inherently . . . on an individual, intimate scale, we value it”. The artist must value the work first; what happens after that is unimportant.

I wrote this poem in 1993. It’s not great by any standard, however, I do value its important lesson and for reminding me to wait patiently. Finding it again, I now realize how frustrated I was becoming with my work. Since then, I’ve had the very same experience many times over. I’m glad I didn’t throw this simple poem away.

I cannot write a poem right now
I cannot become the idea
the idea cannot become me
the idea and I must wait
for intimate communion
for the explosion
for the commingling
for the becoming
of one and the same thing

[ 12 ] Cellists and Techniques

2007-03-01T12:56:00.000-05:00

“The most perfect technique is that which is not noticed at all."
Pablo Casals

Pablo Casals’ words reminded me of my own words, written in 1996 as part of the juror’s statement I submitted for the Visions exhibition: “What about the use of new techniques and methods, fabric manipulations, experimentation with the medium, and other similar considerations? The expert use of any of these does not make a person an artist nor does it make a particular quilt a work of art. Each is only a servant to art. When a particular technique, no matter how innovative and mind boggling, attempts to take center stage, it tends to subtract rather than add to the creative outcome. Technical gymnastics and visual acrobatics, although impressive and bear witness to one's mechanical expertise, must serve the artistic goal of the work. Whatever methods and materials are used in the making of an art quilt, each must be used with a sensitivity to its subject matter and add to the integrity of the entire piece. In all cases, whatever techniques and materials are used, the work must be well constructed whether it is executed by hand or by machine.”

Comparing our two statements, I must admit that Casals’ version, penned more succinctly and to the point, has much greater impact, once again proving that “less can indeed be more”, and to really think about it even further, the same could be said about techniques.

[ 11 ] Re: Process as Teacher

2007-02-19T17:56:00.000-05:00

It sounds like you are moving more intuitively than you realize as you create. Could it be the piece is taking you where you 'should be going' instead of where you 'want to be going'? Anger may be the intentional goal when you were just beginning the work, however, the process involved in the ‘doing’ is suggesting to you that healing is perhaps a better and realistic goal. When looking back on the hundreds of pieces, large and small, I have created since 1981, perhaps only a handful had a hint of meaning 'before' the pieces were started in the studio. All the other times, I innocently started with the materials surrounding me, and these took me on journeys I never expected. However, ALWAYS, the deeper meaning for the work came after the fact. I learned that, for me, the process was almost always about discovering meaning; not necessarily my intended meaning, but instead a more useful meaning that I needed to better understand. I let the work and the creative process decide what needed to be learned because learning is what I will be doing until the day I die, and most likely, even after. Another person’s early life experiences can be horrendous for sure, but these are memories in the past, and since life is so short, for me, it seems so counterproductive to keep living with these uncomfortable experiences in the present and then continuing to project them into the future. What I am trying to say (so poorly, I'm sure) is that right now, in the present, finding ways to heal ‘is’ more important than interpreting deeply stored negative emotions like anger in work. I find little hope in nurturing deeply felt anger that persists over a long period of time. I would rather work in an atmosphere of hope and reconciliation. I want hope to actively participate in the process. Of course, this is just how I feel about how I work best. It cannot be expected to be everyone’s cup of tea.

There are many artists, including quilt artists, who have spent long periods of their lifetime’s work dealing with dark and distressing themes, and I’ve wondered how they were able to carry such crosses for so long a time without succumbing to deep depression and poor health, and I assume, that many great artists did succumb and ended up breaking down and becoming depressed and physically ill. For some, their situation became their muse, and this creatively worked for them; however, personally, I cannot imagine living day in and day out without believing in the possibility of hopeful outcomes. As I get older, I find myself more and more embracing the present rather than dwelling on the past, and the future as well. If I can’t make sense of some painful past experience in a reasonable amount of time, I try to move on as best and fast as possible. It’s a survival technique that works for me.

I think of when I was working on Child's Play. Surely I was angry at what happened in Oklahoma City in 1995, but I didn't want the piece to take on that tone. I'm so glad that I didn't go the 'angry route', and actually, now that I think more about it, I do not find this theme predominant in the works of the other nineteen artists who were invited to be part of the exhibit. It took me nine months to complete my entry, and I didn’t want to spend that amount of time on negative outcomes, despite the many reasons for sadness and anger that could be mustered over what had happened on that tragic April day. My written statement (link to statement) that traveled with Child’s Play explains best what I learned while completing the work. I did not write my words until after the quilt was completed, and not until then did I more fully understand what the piece was teaching me, nor do I consider my statement the final word on all that I had yet to learn from the piece. I had a full teaching schedule during those nine months and traveled with a section of the quilt wherever the schedule took me---there were five sections. It was the only way I could complete such a large quilt before the due date, and I remember clearly the experiences of peace and contentment that surrounded me at the end of each teaching day. In the evenings, my time was my own, and that was when I added most of the hand-beaded embellishments, sometimes alone, sometimes with students around me who were working late into the night. It was peaceful. In hindsight, I now know that I was being healed of my deep rooted anger and feelings of resentment for what had happened to those nineteen children who where killed in the bombing. I did not realize at the time, that this healing was taking place inside me. It’s easy to understand why Child’s Play: Sometime with Kisses, Sometimes with Hugs is one of my favorites. When I look at this piece today, I find myself the student once again, still learning from the work and discovering that there is hope for myself in a world that sometimes does not make much sense at all.

(Artwork: Child's Play: Sometimes with Kisses, Sometimes with Hugs, 1996, 91" x 76")

[ 10 ] February Freeze

2007-02-17T15:00:00.000-05:00

Valentine's Day - 2007

(Click images for larger views)

Often it's the ordinary that first catches my eye.
Or perhaps it's better to say, the 'altered' ordinary,
the 'embellished' ordinary. Ordinary made new.

Or maybe it's an interesting line that draws my attention,
or unexpected shadows.

There's the pull of simplicity,
noticing quiet acceptance.

Shapes can be attractive, changlings, breathing in and out,
Melting before our very eyes.

Mystery surrounds us.

Inspiration awaits in every direction.

At every turn,
there is an invitation to notice
and pay attention
to everything around us.

[ 9 ] waiting for the rain

2006-12-31T21:33:00.000-05:00

waiting for the rain
breathing in deeply
smelling the wetness long before the first drop
touches my face
when I start and jerk away
I need this so badly
I need this damp, clean sensation that brings back freshness
and dives gently beneath my skin and sinks into my bones
I shiver under its magic spell
turning years younger

[ 8 ] Let Silence In - Turn Something OFF!

2006-12-25T17:18:00.000-05:00

I have a poem by May Sarton to share with you, New Year Resolve.

Click to enlarge the image.

In this poem, May pleas with us to find ways to un-clutter our lives and 'let silence in'. My own resolution (and I want you to know that I hate making resolutions) is to turn one thing OFF each day to make room for some quiet time within myself, to reflect and listen to my heart without the distractions of the world around racing around me and, especially, to remove myself from so much media input---in my case, from radios, televisions, computers. Since I still live in the dark ages and find myself surviving quite well without a cell phone or a dvd player, I don't have to worry about making those sacrifices, but perhaps you do! I don't think I could turn OFF one thing for an entire day---at least, no yet; I will just make it my goal to do without something for 30-60 minutes in the beginning. It's important to for me to be aware of the intention as I make it. This awareness will strengthen my resolve to continue.

(Photo Credit: Janet Steadman, Clinton, WA. Janet took this shot of Useless Bay from her back porch. In early January, Janet and her family will be moving about a mile or so inland, however, they will still be able to enjoy beautiful sunsets from their new Home-Sweet-Home.)

[ 7 ] Re: The Illusion of Non-Effort, Ticking Hearts, and Vicarious Pleasures

2006-10-27T12:38:00.000-04:00

I have been following your work through postcard show notices, and I believe I saw something of yours recently in one of the magazines. You have really taken off, and I feel your work has become more original and personal over time. The two MUST exist together if what we create is to be valid, substantial and meaningful at a universal level, and by allowing this union, the work becomes more than just personal. When the work does not strive to touch the universal sensibilities in others, it often falls victim to self-absorbance and sentimentality. May Sarton taught me this. Your own work is looking spontaneous, although I know better, but the best work almost always looks spontaneous, as if easily accomplished, as if a master magician’s hands have been at play. Actually, the very best work, in my opinion, bears with it the illusion of non-effort, a Zen concept that allows every creative act to lift itself out of nothingness.

I have bookmarked your blog and am happy to see that you, like myself, cannot and do not feel obligated to make daily contributions. I can't work that way myself. I will stop by now and then to see what you are doing.

Glad to hear, for both of us, that our hearts are still ticking along. I now also have a pacemaker-defibrillator combo implanted (much like a four-slice toaster) and feel safer because of it. I also attend Phase 3 cardiac rehab exercise classes three times a week. I especially enjoy the community of heart patients that I have met in the class. Misery loves company . . . how true! Sciatica is now my most recent ailment, but I'm dealing with that just fine thanks to a good doctor and some good medicine. The learning curve about our bodies and growing older is an endless journey, and it never ends, does it? The spirit seems forever young, and I am grateful for that.

Please keep me on your postcard mailing list whenever you have a show. It gives me such vicarious pleasure, especially since I haven't made a quilt in over three years. Transitions often take a long time.

(Note: If you haven't read any of May Sarton's works, I would suggest you begin with her journals in general, and with Journal of a Solitude in particular; then, if you want more, read the rest of her journals in chronological order. Her second journal is entitled House by the Sea. The book cover above is from my very old copy. The republished editions will have a different cover design, unless you are able to find an older used copy.)

[ 6 ] Re: Painters and Craft

2006-10-26T19:41:00.000-04:00

Exceptionally gifted painters need to respect their talent and try to make it work for them in the world of painters. I think maybe some painters who are not talented or inventive enough to make it in their own world try to wiggle their way into another medium just to get noticed. I have infinite respect for painters, especially those I have come to know personally, and I know it isn't easy to get noticed because there are so many of them and the competition is keen. I am learning the same thing about photographers. Since the digital camera came on the scene, nearly anyone can compose and take more than decent photographs. The really talented ones have discovered that they must also meet the challenge of climbing the learning curve of Photoshop to process their images. Now that's where the real talent lies, in the processing. Alfred Stieglitz knew this with film photography. Yes, he had the true eye of an artist, but what's a good eye mean if the processing is poorly done or, at best, mediocre.

Enter craft and it’s preeminent importance. I always told my students that I strongly believe that great craft can be made without becoming great art, however, great art is an impossibility without the processing power of great craft.

Anyway, I'm rambling on again. Thank you for once again encouraging the rambler in me. I'm always learning that there's a great deal of wisdom to be found in rambling.

(Artwork - The Sweeper, Alfred Stieglitz)

[ 5 ] Headlines in the News: 'War is outdated'

2006-09-17T12:23:00.000-04:00

"There are no national boundaries. The whole globe is becoming one body. In these circumstances, I think war is outdated . . . Destruction of your neighbor is actually destruction of yourself . . . I think we are social animals. We need a sense of caring, a sense of concern for others."

These words from the address of the Dalai Lama encouraged thousands of teenagers from 31 countries at a world PeaceJam conference at the University of Denver to embrace globalization and accept people from all countries as neighbors and collaborators, not rivals.

(Cover photograph, A Simple Path: Basic Teachings by His Holiness the Dalai Lama, published by Thorsons)

[ 4 ] s-p-r-e-a-d-t-h-e-w-o-r-k-o-u-t

2006-09-14T14:56:00.000-04:00

In a recent email, Susanne McCoy, quilt artist from Ft. Lauderdale, FL, shared with me some quivers of trepidation she was experiencing about her upcoming solo exhibition. Susanne wrote, ". . . I would have said I was excited about what's coming up, but yesterday I got the floor plan for my solo show, and I, for some reason, have gone into panic mode. I am certain it's because I've never done this before . . . and I now feel that I need to borrow some quilts back that are already sold . . . as I write you this, I see it's a bunch of logistic things bothering me. . . this is so new to me . . ."

A brief comment about not having enough pieces for your gallery space. I have noticed that the more famous an artist becomes, the a fewer number of works are expected from her/him for an exhibition. A large gallery space with four walls, for example, only needs four pieces, but we must remember that only a proven successfully accepted artist can get away with this. So my advice to you is to s-p-r-e-a-d-t-h-e-w-o-r-k-o-u-t. In doing so, the visitors will think you are REAL famous, and then they might be more likely to make a purchase. So often the perception of what makes something art, or not art, whichever, becomes clouded by it's setting, spacing and dramatic lighting effects. Keep the exhibition arrangements as simple as possible to allow the work to speak for itself. It is very difficult to breathe in an overcrowded room.

My, my, that prompts me to recall all those art quilt shows we've attended where the work is packed into three-sided curtained stalls, aisle after aisle after aisle. It's no wonder the idea of quilts being REAL art is so hard to swallow.

I'll have to give this some more thought.

(Artwork - New Growth, 15" x 17", by Susanne McCoy. See more of Susanne's work at her web site.)

[ 3 ] Reprise: Five Years Later . . .

2006-09-10T11:52:00.000-04:00

"We know that marriages, families, communities, nations often come together and discover their strength when some apocalypse---some new revelation of the faultlines in our lives---has occurred. Hospital chaplains see this all the time. For some reason we human beings seem to learn best how to love when we're a bit broken, when our plans fall apart, when our myths of our self-sufficiency and goodness and safety are shattered. Apocalypse is meant to bring us to our senses, allowing us a sobering, and usually painful glimpse of what is possible in the new life we build from the ashes of the old."

(Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith)

Credo

I believe
artists possess a particular vision
that can change and heal a society in distress.

I believe
through hard work and relentless focus,
we can make a difference and bring
hope, light and understanding
to every dark and fearful place
within the human spirit.

I believe
the world needs to know and experience
the unique vision and truth
that each artist possesses.

As an artist myself,
I believe we are powerful beyond measure.

(David Walker - September, 2001)

Imagine Peace on Our Planet!

[ 2 ] Ratatat, ratatat, ratatat . . . I need an excuse to stop

2006-09-04T16:34:00.000-04:00

It’s another one of those days when I really, yes really, want to write something important. I’ve set aside the time to speak, even feel energetically thoughtful and sufficiently open to the idea of setting meaningful ideas into motion. Nothing happens. I close my eyes to better see my thoughts. There’s nothing there. All’s blank. Blank inner space, without images, without symbols, there are NO metaphors leaping out for me to grab onto. Yet, fighting the urge to take the easy way out and simply quit and give up, I am determined to write something, anything, even if it’s gibberish and boring as hell. All this in an effort to get beyond the darkness, beyond that empty space I see on the fleshy screen inside my eyelids.

Unless I physically begin to type something, nothing will get written, so I’ve been told. I have to keep hitting the keys, ratatat, ratatat, ratatat, in hopes that a decent thought or chain of thoughts might emerge and take flight. It is the constant determination to write anything, even gibberish, that makes it eventually happen, so I’ve been told. It is that sudden breakthrough experience of ecstasy that I am waiting for, so I’ve been told, when words become ideas with purpose, more than fonts and letters and punctuation strung together merely to pass time and waste ink and paper. I must push myself to the brink without worry of failure, so I’ve been told. There is no failure in trying. True failure is impossible if you are truly trying, so I’ve been told. So I continue, ratatat, ratatat, ratatat, without any goal in mind. How can others fault me if I at least don’t give up, even though I’m boring myself and everyone else?

So I keep on typing no matter what, ratatat, ratatat, ratatat.
I wait for the phone to ring.
I need an excuse to stop.
Is that a knock I hear at the door? No, it’s just coming from the radio in the next room.
I need an excuse to stop.
I’d better check the time. I don’t want to miss dinner.
I need an excuse to stop.
Ratatat, ratatat, ratatat . . .

[ 1 ] Excerpt from A Wedding in December, Anita Shreve

2006-08-23T00:22:00.000-04:00

“I wonder . . . I wonder if the idea is that the sins of man, more terrible than anyone’s ability to imagine them, are nothing in the face of Nature’s bounty and serenity,” Nora said.
“Nature a supreme being?” Harrison asked, puzzled.
“Entity?”
“A terrible one at times.”
“Not today.”
“No, not today,” Harrison said.
“Or . . . or are we meant to be reminded of a reason to stay alive? To savor each day as if it might be the last?”
“Nature capable of grace?” Harrison asked. “I like that.”

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I agree with Harrison. For sure, the notion that nature is capable of grace is appealing, one that implies purpose and direction, one that suggests that nature is meaningful and devoid of self absorption and judgment. I continue to be amazed at how easily nature provides all that is necessary for its survival, and it does so without compromising it’s values and priorities and never needing to withhold it’s endless bounty to get what it needs to survive. Nature goes about its business without showing any sense of pride or accomplishment. It just works! In the course of time, it stays in the moment without accounting for time’s passage or needing the praise of achievement.

I watch what happens around me as best I can and try to stay alert to the natural world and its lessons, but I still find myself incredibly slow to notice the great teacher speaking to me, and I keep wondering why life is not moving more gently in my behalf. I worry that days and months and years are going unused, wasted. I worry that the journey is going around in circles, and that I am getting nowhere. Is it possible to both know where you are going and safely travel an unknown route at the same time? I don’t think so, or I don’t want to think so, because then how would I experience the mystery and wonder of the journey? I so much enjoy the mystery and wonder of traveling without total clarity of the final destination. I don’t want to know what’s around every corner before I make each turn.

I feel that since I am a particle of nature myself, I, therefore, possess the fullness of nature’s identifying qualities. I think Harrison felt the same way. How else could Harrison have arrived at such an amazing concept, new to him, but surely not new to nature---the concept of “Nature capable of grace”? If nature is capable of grace, then why can’t everyone be just as capable of grace as well? What a wonderful way to travel the journey, with grace moving us constantly forward and keeping us grateful and satisfied at the same time. Without himself even knowing, Harrison must have all along desired an active sense of grace in his life. He just wasn’t aware of this possibility for himself. Could it be that we copy best what we have first discovered in ourselves without knowing that it needed discovering? Could it be that we eventually recognize a truth because it has been embedded within us from birth, hidden away from conscious thought, awaiting just the right moment to pounce on us with its surprising relevance? Something has triggered its presence and validity. It doesn’t matter if we can identify the specific trigger. However, shored up on all sides with an attitude of humble amazement, what is important is that we embrace with joy our new discovery which has finally surfaced at the right moment to make a difference in our lives.

Cultivating grace in my life has once again become important to me. I know that I have drifted in and out of grace, forgetting that thought awareness manifests significant change. Grace has always been there, patiently waiting, but it has often gone unused or, at best, become stale. What is happening now in my creative life is the rediscovery of passion. Hopefully, grace will help ease the stress of rediscovering passion too quickly.