cascades ...

Click "Cascades" to view another sound + vision journal entry ...

CASCADES

See me see ...

Cascading imagery

forests and trees

through seasons

and sunsets

of familiarity ...

Oceans

that speak

through fluid memory ...

dawn,

of timeless uncertainty ...

A Desert

of mindful remedies

(through) solitude and clarity

causal

simplicity

Under canopies of ageless blessings

through paths of grace

It’s all about vision, process, and thought ...

cycled through seasons,

It’s all about vision ...

Desert Painting ...

Click HERE to watch the video ...

Mojave Painting Project (narrative)

I’ve been drawn to this area of the Mojave Desert since the early 1980’s ...

Apparently desolate - lacking ordinary routine,

this solitude appeals to me ...

allowing focus of a different scale,

on undistracted beauty ...

The perspective is unified,

and clearly distinguished ...

self, earth, and cosmos ...

The spirit of this place,

is ancient and palpable ...

Aquatic - primordial, burial grounds ...

bridging the prehistoric past with a distant future -

between here and beyond time ...

I’ve participated in Native American rituals of this region -

continued for millennia ...

experiences that reveal a profound reverence for this land -

earth as a living and breathing organism,

land with Soul ...

This landscape offers perspective,

with no shortage of inspiration -

where imagination runs free ...

Nature is the repository of answers to all questions ...

I came here to observe and learn -

if conditions prevailed,

to paint ...

My work takes cues from Nature -

especially, from what appears as a random flow of simultaneous events;

where information’s magnitude is paralleled only by nature’s variety ...

The desert simplifies by separating relevance -

the arbitrary from necessary;

with precise transitions,

of broad-stroked eloquence

and evolutionary expressionism ...

Sometimes,

the consequence of modernity

is more visible through nature ...

universe ...

regatta ...

life ...

homage ...

Think of it as a birthday of a close, personal friend - one who has stuck by you every day of your life ... What can be done to show appreciation ...

I've included a mix version of "Earth Song" ... listen ...

and an excerpt from a piece by the poet Janice Johnston Howie ...

EARTH SONG

Relentless ... awesome,

trudging onward, an invincible monster,

vast and unseizable.

Almost mocking, but actually indifferent

for nothing we do impacts its trajectory at all.

On and on, with or without us,

throughout anything ... despite everything ...

la "machine infemale"

of which nothing can halt the serene and sinister momentum.

It orbits a cycle, then pausing, resolves ... comfortably,

with a defeatism that is not immediately, if ever, apparent.

And we, poor, deluded, pompous creatures,

with age and erosion, finally shrug in resignation,

somehow relieved by a return of the familiar,

profoundly grateful for a reprieve,

throw up our hands, raise our eyes to the heavens and sigh ...

"Ah well ... what can you do?"

as, dispassionately, the cycle mutates a little, and recurs.

Listen ... here it comes again ... on and on and round and round,

lost in the concentric circles of Dante's Hell,

the stupefying maze of Camus' Amsterdam canals,

where ring upon ring of muddy waters lurk below murky skies ...

till we have ... gratefully ... no clear idea of beginning nor end ...

as the familiar spirographs and distorts geometrically -

or takes fearful, quantum leaps into the unimaginable,

as illusions of 'control' and 'normality' recede ...

imperceptibly ...

as if they had ever been anything more than a dream.

[J.J.Howie © 2003]

partially inspired by the music of Earth Song

as night ...

its always been about -

diving, dying, climbing, and falling;

not being good enough ...

or being far enough away to not care,

too busy to think,

or deep enough in love to forget ...

keep - sake ...

just a few thoughts on a video/performance/installation excerpt entitled: keep-sake - by old friend and colleague, barbara kilpatrick

keep-sake ...

reminds me of art -
how things represent other things -
how quickly they modify, pass -
how events fade through reference, relevance -
focus -
contrast of scale -
nostalgia, purpose, and motive -
subjectivity of necessity -
monotony of effort, life -
requirement for meaning -
their occupation -
the repetition of things that create meaning -
the repetition of things that mean creating -
essential ingredients -
self consciousness rhythms -
figure-less landscapes -
eno, enone, lla -
black, white, grey -
voice, fact -
time and thought -
the imperative of either -
ether -
distractions -
things human-made -
made human -
nature -
the life of wind -
to witness or describe -
particles of change -
sequence -
expedience -
questions and answers -
endless stories -
reminds me of art -
the re-mind -
and rejuvenation -
over and over again ...

pieces ...

4/30/08
7:26 AM

though my mentors warn against it,

here’s hoping ...
that heaven has a corner serving coffee and double-bag green tea
where you can smoke some decent tobacco without disapproving looks
in the company of so many people whose views i’ve come to miss
since their departure joins the growing list ...

hoping that they save a large leather chair with arms
where i can comfortably slouch and spend more time listening
to the subtlety of formed thought and words
and bask in the beauty of their spirit
which i only allowed myself to glimpse
through preoccupation ...

that i might see through the paintings and surfaces
to the fires that formed them
and the flavors of passion ...

that heaven isn’t politics ...

earth, 2008 ...

"Relentless... awesome...
trudging onward... an invincible monster,
vast and unseizable.
Almost mocking, but worse: indifferent,
for nothing we do impacts its trajectory at all.

On and on with us or without us.
Unfazed by infinity; traversing eternity;
La machine infernale
of which nothing can halt the serene and sinister momentum.

It orbits a cycle, then pausing, resolves, inevitably,
with a sadness, a fatalism, perceived with anxiety in the realms of the subconscious,
as we, poor deluded pompous creatures,
with age and erosion finally shrug in resignation;
always relieved by a resumption of routine;
wretchedly grateful for even a semblance of a reprieve
throw up our hands, raise our eyes to the heavens and sigh:
Ah well… what can you do? What-can-we-do
as, dispassionately, the cycle mutates a little, and recurs?

And with each hypnotic, mesmerizing loop
hope, (God help us) is somehow energized anew!
We are as Sisyphus, making freshness grow in baron moors,
in drought, in fire, in snow - or how could we bear to face each day?
Ha! How's that for a challenge!
The terrible wonder of the human condition
against which daily we anaesthetize ourselves--
taking comfort in our magnetic, orbiting state,
as we may rock our children to sleep,
or as we may strive to sway worrisome ideas from our heads,
searching peace in the repetition of a familiar refrain,
while the marching machine forges resolutely ahead to a perpetual cosmic chant
in which the sum of all human endeavor is less than white noise;
a trifling, inconsequential interference
as invisible on the oscilloscope as the footsteps of tiny spiders;
as inaudible in the vacuum of space as the screams of
massacred peoples, exterminated species -- while the planets sing on
in celebration of their existence like whales in the deep.

Listen… listen… here it comes again… on and on and round and round.
Adrift in the concentric circles of Dante's hell:
a stupefying, unfathomable, unnavigable maze of canals
where ring upon ring of muddy waters lurk below murky skies,
until we have - gratefully - no idea of beginning or end
as the familiar spirographs and distorts geometrically;
or takes fearful, quantum leaps into the unimaginable
as illusions of control and normality recede --
as if they had ever been anything more than a dream."

by janice johnston howie ©2005, 'earth song'

far from blues ...

an icy night + proof positive ...

a view through
to the studio
to center
clue ...

proof positive, © 2001.
acrylic paint on wood.
5' h x 3' w.
allentown art museum collection.

outsider ...

entropy + black holes

[ inspired by keith jarrett's 'out-of-towners' ]

to qualify ...

how far out of ‘town’,
or off the mainline
in this megalopolis,
or global village,
do you have to be ...

what do you need
to ‘not’ look at,
or read ...
how many
city streets, traffic jams,
garbage piles, cabs, cars,
buses, subways,
bridges, tunnels, and people
do you need to refrain from ...

which search engine,
operating system,
cable subscription,
radio, web host,
or chain of bookstores,
and cyber cafes,
chat rooms,
or magazines,
and newspapers
should you avoid ...

how many times a month
do you need to visit
galleries, museums,
lectures, parties, meetings,
friends, restaurants, and shows ...

what dialogues, diatribes, or soliloquies,
secret handshakes,
or life-altering trends
at ‘next’ big things
can one miss
to fulfill ‘hip’ ...


the fast faceted ‘inside’,
compared to other worlds, outside;
the scale of concrete and steel to nature,
maintenance, diversity ...
centralized
being ‘in’,
fitting ...
in footprints of trophies,
fearlessness, arrogance,
causes, humility,
varieties of survival ...

there’s no one
nowhere
that can’t speak,
or email,
or communicate
with anyone
at any time
anywhere
day or night
if they answer ...

connected ...
a little south of chelsea,
east of hollywood,
north of the liberty bell,
a safe distance from d.c.,
as far west
as i want to go
before running into my self again,
twenty minutes from
any airport in the world,
just a ‘click’ away,
just outside
your insides ...
in or out,
sides ...
touching,
versions of reality ...

a click away ...

nature ...

[ most times, the left hand doesn't know
what the right hand is doing ]

contrast
unbearable heat
intolerable cold
darkness and light ...

incomprehensible scale
measurable components
universal digestion, assimilation
constant transformation ...

changing
nothing static
adapting
mixing ...

sensory
wonder and amazement,
serenity, fear,
majesty, brutality,
sublime creation
evolving ...

in fact .

'fulcrum', 16' h x 7' w. © 2007

the momentum -
of whatever force,
or energy -
incessently
prevails ...

overshadowing
everything,
like the rubble
of mountains
under glacial blooms ...

to hear ...

the sounds that brought me here ...

the early winter outdoor silence,
absent of inconsiderations -
[before rudeness and suburbia invaded] -
the kind of unimposing sound
that generations before me heard
standing on this same ground ...
the occasional breeze stirred leaves or branches -
a cracking or thump from something walking, falling,
or dropping ...
a bird call or few from winter stragglers
maybe geese, but not often ...
though there is no wind,
every head shift cups a different sound;
could be the easterlies,
or just the earth turning ...

then, the amazing whisper
of snow flakes touching the ground -
in dendrites of childhood;
peaceful, safe, and quiet -
gentle chimes
of prayer bells,
found on the floor
of catalina straits -
breaks this trance,
with penetrating cold
and fond memories ...

through fog .

protecting vitals ...
life, hope, dreams;
will and belief ...

sanctity of spirit ...
threadbare sleeves,
prone to elements;
abuse and dis ease,
fearful and fragile,
cunning and agile ...

deliberate momentum ...
silted with time,
flowing onward -
sanity, clarity,
reason nor rhyme ...

beyond presence ...
sight;
agitating,
anticipating -
too smart to fight,
too tired for flight ...

forming ...

changing water ...

resurrected [circa 1975]
odd that 3 is missing ...

surface ...
that thin skin
of separation,
containing difference;
function, purpose,
composition -
the last retention ...
between
being and change;
dispersion
absorption
evaporation.

particulates diffused;
blended, filtered,
reused ...

word fields too ...

word fields ...

loving the yin of it ...

5;30 am - predawn wake up in early october to the sound of darkness, rain, and falling leaves. everything reverberates a little thinner with more distance as the backdrop of foliage recedes with the light. only a month or so ago i was awakened half an hour earlier by forest activity that mimicked times square on a saturday night [minus the horns, sirens, and rudeness - with the exception of a couple of crow]. it’s difficult to be excited without the excitement.
so those of us without ample sun and warmth become task oriented and ‘responsible’ to fulfill or fortify whatever cause that defines us.
the ‘yin’ of year depends upon self generated motivation.

the ending summer sunlight
struggles through my room
blushing trees
with autumn’s breeze
that opens winter's tomb ...
[circa 1963, minersville,pa]

since my heritage is baltic, i’m probably hardwired to respond so emotionally to the onset of winter. what was it like for my plebeian ancestors - what did they endure - and choose to continue to endure on a daily basis [obviously, or i wouldn’t be here]?