Something About The Checkerboard Print

Remembering That…

Without darkness, nothing comes to birth, 

As without light, nothing flowers.

– May Sarton

ἀρχιτέκτων

(Greek)

…is both the process and product of planning, 

designing, and construction…

. . . . .

Everything is design. Everything!

– Paul Rand

To Go There

Eyes glued to the seriousness of time –

halfway through its hypnotic song

we reach a certain point…

A Collective Obsession

The Brouhaha Of The Rose

Coming at us every which way –

the rose, remodeled of late in this light.

Playfully Immersed In The Day

Up above on a yellowish-green hill

a little hand tugs on a wavering string

fastened tight to a fancy new kite –

and everywhere it is one o'clock.

Introspectively It Carries Us

I soon realized that no journey carries one far

unless, as it extends into the world around us, 

it goes an equal distance into the world within.

– Lillian Smith

. . . . .

Something unfamiliar pierces us – a sight, a sound, a smell, a taste, a touch. Transfixed, we gasp as an awe runs through us. Seized by those rare moments, time's commanding order, numbered on a clock, disappears. Out there, extraordinarily sustained, we become unconscious of it.

Uninhibited

Finding Spring Midst This Quietness

It elicits one onward,

hearing nothing but the 

slightness of a breeze.

The More You Use, The More You Have

Art is knowing
which ones to keep.

– Scott Adams

. . . . .

The inner fire is
the most important thing
mankind possesses.

– Edith Södergran

At uncertain intervals birdsong fills the air. Long wisps of grass accumulating along the edge of the barn make merry in the wind, lending an expression of giddiness to their nature. For a moment I place myself inside the bigger window…

A Wonderful Surprise

Silently you drew near with lovely flowers

planted in your hand – your telling smile an indication

they had been picked exclusively for me.

. . . . .

A daughter is a gift of love.

– Author Unknown

A Stretch Of Time

In an hour or so all of this will be gone.

For now eagle eyes ogle at the sight of it,

fixing in the mind what the view unveils.

An Entire Day

Your life.

. . . . .

A moment of self-compassion can change your entire day. 

A string of such moments can change the course of your life.

– Christopher Germer

Another World Assembles

All Busy In The Sunlight

It Leads Her Over Stones To The Garden

As the days go along an artist pauses internittently, observing it. Come summer, out in that light, a flowering head develops. Settling into its fascinating pattern of interconnecting spirals – and petals oriented one toward the other, the painter, in full possession of her muse, yet mindful of the life around her, begins to paint. On a freshly stretched canvas the hand unveils, layer after layer, what it is the trained eye descries. Standing a short distance away I study my sister, those ravishing blue eyes contemplating each integral part of the sunflower. Her passion for painting is evident in the way she handles each stroke – in her own signature style she renders the essence of her world and its captivating colours. And it becomes clear that her true calling in life has been realized…

A Large Sky With Or Without People

Our battered suitcases

were piled on the sidewalk again;

we had longer ways to go.

But no matter, the road is life.

– Jack Kerouac

At Play – The Sun And The Seed

Bright flirtatious pinks and pleasant yellows accented 

by the occupation of spinach green leaves and stems

comprising the framework of this teeming backdrop –

the ambrosial scent displaced, mid an evasive solitude.

A sweet notion of love buoys up in behind pupils of white. On any given day a silent trust gracefully surfaces. Sustained in their gaze is an undaunted assurance of attachment, a solidarity that life has, over time, carved into them…

Compared To A Dream

This life

of separateness

may be compared

to a dream, 

a phantasm, 

a bubble, 

a shadow, 

a drop of dew, 

a flash of lightning.

 – Buddha

A Kind Of Tongue-tied Exchange

Beginning Over Again

And so with the sunshine and the great burst 

of leaves growing on the trees - just as things grow

in fast movies - I had the familiar conviction that life 

was beginning over again with the summer.

– F. Scott Fitzgerald

Something new — something extraordinary and beautiful

and simple and intricately patterned…

The Picture You Have In Your Mind

And it is telling you

something about

what you are about –

something you keep 

hidden in your self.

. . . . .

You need something to open up a new door, 

to show you something you seen before 

but overlooked a hundred times or more…

– Bob Dylan

The Flowers That You Love

Bold And Lovely In My Mind

Just yesterday you came to me

with a picture in your hand –

at once I felt the burst of its

white diffusion of confusion.

. . . . .

You must have chaos within you
to give birth to a dancing star.

– Friedrich Nietzsche

. . . . .

And again today
you offered me one more… 

. . . . .

The creation of art is the passion. 
The completion of art only ignites another creation.

– Jeffrey Breslow

Go Then…

Be gone…

Be anonymous for a while…

. . . . .

To see a world in a grain of sand, 

And a heaven in a wild flower, 

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, 

And eternity in an hour.

– William Blake

A Cluster Of Possibility

To inspirit our art, 

to bring the life of it into fruition…

To make connections as part of the process of its liberation

it becomes quite simply an amazing thing…

. . . . .

Thanks to Kat and to each of those participants

who willingly shared their creative selves, thoughts and ideas.

1290 pieces of art

216 artists

11 countries

. . . . .

The essential thing is to spring forth, to express the bolt of lightning one senses upon 

contact with a thing. The function of the artist is not to translate an observation but to express

the shock of the object on his nature; the shock, with the original reaction.

– Henri Matisse

. . . . .

At First Light

Again, I am surprised by the small particulars of life that become, over time, notably the most significant reflections held in the mind's eye. And here at first light, falling into the quiet ease of morning, I am pleased to have the chance to muse over each of their insightful attributions once again.

And Always That Drama

The luminous round face of the scorching sun drowning at the heels of the horizon. The mind clinging to the raw idea of something strangely wonderful burning so bright – but then all too suddenly disappearing in its own private way, away from where I once stood, The brightest star sinking under a force it could not control midst the day's orderly procession.

Coming Out From Under A Stone

The whole of its sweet strength pushing out

from under a stone where seemingly no bloom should be,

springing out of the earth traveling skywards.

Just Like That

One day I will find the right words, 

and they will be simple.

– Jack Kerouac

What Remains Of It

Lit up

in this stillness –

a small joy

there is.

To Live In The Present

Often, when she found herself in a space of tremendous comfort, usually out in nature, or when her children were safe all around her and on the verge of going to bed, she forced herself to take stock. Here you are, Hope, she told herself. What a beautiful moment. You may never again be here at this spot, enjoying the calm…

– David Bergen

A Thing Able To Be Seen/Felt/Perceived

An object – how radiant it becomes

over time with the aid of the sun's heat – 

the colours of autumn burnt into it.

Moved By The Wind

A precious flower

held out into the airy window of the world,

the eye of it eyeing me.

. . . . .

In its own way the body of it pantomimes the lift and thrust of a helicopter's propellor. Round and round the face of it easefully quickens like one's heart sometimes pleasantly races. For a split second the blades of it feel as if they might advance upwards to where the clouds have been painted over by a lovely sky blue. My body shivers with excitement because I too feel like I could be carried away, hovering above my world midst that sky awash with light. And – for the briefest of seconds, the pinwheel and I are gone… 

But then all too soon, from the opposite direction of its billowing sail I hear a voice that sounds like my mother's call. From over my shoulder I search out her shout that seems to be getting louder. The strain of it pulls me away from the movement of that fiery red form towards the image of home…

A Meaningful Process

I was struck by the way the light settled on a leaf –

its frail structure resting ever so gently upon the Spring grass.

. . . . .

The seasons are the emotions of Time.

– E.J. George

As It Often Is

In the morning a swoosh of air. With such grace aimlessly they float. The soul is stirred by the singularity of each one. Thousands of them drifting, tumbling, tickling the air. The eyes become receptive to a spiritedness transpiring. The charm of it, affecting, as it often is.