objectivity

objectivity requires
forgetting

anybody out their?

take me to your leader

decay

decay of orbits
decay of remnants of
what was once
either alive
or functional

if this was an image,
what might it look like?

i may have painted that
last week
i'll have to go look

-12ºC outside

the bitches

the bitches
the bitches
with whom i had
the pleasure of spending
a good part of the morning
took me on a tour
of their favorite places
the sniffing around the piles
of old rail-way ties places
and the skidding on ice
and that magic sound
that crusted-over-snow makes
and in return,
unintentionally
i led them to a frozen
still -born calf
left in the woods
to feed coyotes
quite the party
and on the way back
the sun came out
with crystal snow
into blue sky

thanks for asking

you?

.
























do the words notice
when what they describe
no longer fits the discription?

hello, were you looking for snow?

wondering if there's any future for silent paintings? . . . P.B.

the true meaning of "believe" is, to be what one lives, and that requires perception.
. . . A.R.A

glimpses

.......What is the real world?
Something based on perspective,
so it changes?
... S.D.

has to be,  but
do all the perspectives
have to see
the earth. . . P.B.?




....they dont feel connected to it
they can be like aliens already
thats another perspective
like it or not.....S.D.

well and good

sure,
rebellion and innovation are all well and good
but once the constraints and
constants have
been eroded,
and we find ourselves
the establishment
to whom do hand the torch
if no one shows up? P.B.

responce:
someone always shows up
its the function of the gene pool
to provide those odd elements
that startle and jog
things into the future S.D.

language

words clatter
like sun bleached bone
but with effort one can construct
the skeleton of the thing

in order to better understand
one begins to listen
in the foreign accent

so the paintings
take on the accents
of their neighbours
even though
they may be speaking
up side down or
in another
language

dance

into the sequence of time
in the sequence of paintings
the ones in the wings
forever,
for a reason
only they
could know, they
step forward and then
the dance
begins
again

what's it like when somebody likes your children?
it must be strange from the outside to
find someone nurturing inanimate objects...

are they a bit like ghosts? P.B.

responce:
not ghosts but ephemera materialized
or the multiplexed layers of being captured
yeah maybe thats like a ghost S.D.

the pleasure of exploring
the versatility of oil paint
can not be understood
from behind the line.
the solid colour
transparent pools
pouring into gravity and
do the colours dance
in the space between words
when no-one's there to see

when painting emerges
through body memory,
experience is transformed
into intuition-
the wider the experience,
the more likely the landing
in a leap of faith

the boat's string mop
is good for releasing avalanches
from inside the boat shed

in the sequence of time
in the sequence of paintings
the ones in the wings
forever,
for a reason
only they
could know, they
step forward and
the dance
begins
again

painting out-doors
is a winter sport
like ice fishing

it raised some
eyebrows
on the Vineyard,
where there were two horses
watching from across the fence,
curious about what i was doing

beauty elephant speaks

i hung an ancient wooden door,
original latch and cast hinges,
white porcelain knobs

plumb
on two intersecting
floating
sprung spruce arcs
curved threshold in
persistent red elm


the compliant artists agree
to discredit the pursuit
of beauty and banish
the word itself

the speaking
might remind us
what's at stake

no info here

so,
what ever this is....
something specific
it's that split second before
recognition
that innocent moment
this
out of the fog

Revisiting "Charlotte"
painted one winter on Martha's Vineyard
it migh have something to do with the G&B boaryard
there's real red lead bottom paint in the painting
thanks to Nat, who took me out for
an afternoon sail this summer,
now the painting has another chapter


no, i don't know what it is

painting
hazy transitions or
sudden shifts in perception through
time
space
experience
premonition
and recollection
into an abstract dream state
of superimposed viewpoints
and different dialects
reverberating
simultaneously
watching gravity
viscosity and
transparency
working colour into
experience

deep sea trawler

let it become
with out
naming it





48 x 66 in. oil on wood and canvas 2008- 2010


observation:
"so you paint the sounds and wetness and smell of salt marshes
the splash of water as minor beasts slip breifly above the surface
you paint the bodies inhabitation of said place
a mental cleansing of rigid description... " S.D.
.


painted two summers ago
here, outside
it was of shoreline light
i thought i could add a chapter
and in the process of
painting
i reached out
and picked up
a cedar shingle
violet green orange,
to see where orange might fit
and that was it.
the painting, i had explained
was in that place in a chord progression
characterized by 11ths and 13ths,
the place of longing
anticipation
building towards
the unexpected

the shingle was one
that i painted while
breaking-in a solar painting studio
on Martha's Vineyard
in the winter

intuitive reaching out
or
intuition reaching back?

marking territory

as i walk barefoot
across flagstone toward
the woodshed
i mark summers end
in snails trails,
sparkling
like frost

in the extreme case
the minimum requirement of art is
that it is better than it's maker
the art is the teacher
the maker
is the follower













i am reminded
of the spider's art
discovered
one summer day
drifting gently
in a shaft of morning light
against the shadows
of the woodshed

at a distance,
curious about
what appeared to be
a small, animated cloud
closer inspection revealed
a loosly woven
semi-spherical web
that was being alternately
inverted on up-drafts

the filaments in sunlight
seemed to be coloured.
engineered perhaps
to attract the attention
of flying insects
(the photo below is a detail from the spider web photos)





.

as i move around my outdoor "studio"
there are, of course nature's companions
the song birds who disappear quietly
but are all a-flutter if
i haven't got their
nesting boxes cleaned out
by the time they get back
flycatchers and wrens
are replaced by chickadees
as company for the winter
a lone crow, curious
flying low
just above the tree-tops
who spoke in raven voice
may have been over to
bid a seasonal fair-well

the tipping zone
between hope and
greed
where an outstretched hand
a verse
a musical collaboration
is the difference
between life and death

we enter the zone arms flailing and
disbelief suspended
throw in belief and
in free fall
we empty tubes of colour into paint pots
in case there just may be
a future
what choice do we have
but to gift wrap treasure
when we are alone


woods pool
48 x 66 in. oil
private collection
toronto















the painting above reminded me of
looking through the clear water of early spring
gliding
suspended by magic
above the lake-bed
seeing the autumn leaves preserved
where they came to rest


the painting
preceded
the paddling

a small iceberg

-----

-.--.- -..--.-.--.-
....-.---.. //-/----/--/
//.../../../ ///./.././...../../--------

--oo---o-----oooo------..-.-.------



. . .

call it stage fright

the tangible explanation
of the mystic
does resist replication... but
when the paintings speak to each other
it's my place to listen-in
to notice
what a painting must leave behind
in order to take the next step
noticing the longing
in the colours,
the unresolved harmonics.
letting the future past
and the present conditional
come in to play

while fussing with
the intersecting arches
towards the discoveries of sailing
by the light of day
one lone violet shutters
at the coming snow
the painting's nocturnal longing
reaches out to recollections
painted on cedar shingles
pulled from the burn pile
painted on the shore
of a sandy shoal

watching tides
for revelation
both emerging
and arriving
exploring salt-marshes
i found a perfect shell
of a horseshoe crab
an ancient
amongst the reeds





.

having emerged

.

having emerged
from under summer's canopy
the moss
frolics in the diminishing light
of frosty days

the play's the thing

musing

the universe is either breathing in
or breathing out.
as the quickening proceeds,
eventually
the expansion will reach a velocity
and energy that all particles will be set free-
and suddenly it will be
all energy
and just as suddenly,
curiosity,
and the particles will to begin
to condense again.
leap years will be different
when the universe is
contracting.
the dark matter is
the power grid

lest we

remembering

into a family tree
a series of
moments of discovery
beginning as a duet
with Kenny Baldwin.
winter jazz afternoon
in the gallery.
revisited while getting the boat enclosure
ready for this approaching winter.
the structure spilling into the painting
as if through conductivity.

the "moments in time"
fuse
linking one experience with another
somewhere out there, near where
intuition and the interconnectedness
of all things shake hands

a portal
or a simple doorway into
an invitation to remember

painting : 66 x 48 in. oil

.

depth perception

depth perception
from the human perspective
that is,
two eyes on the horizontal plane
and colour vision.
In the forest of sugar maple
the vertical trunks
are much easier to see
in the third dimension
when you are moving

skiing through the woods
head mounted video camera
looking sideways
the near trees move by
more quickly.
it's the same
as looking out
the window
of a train

.

. . .

necessity relinquishing
intention
on the path to
invention-
extending the moment
into the confluence.
the painting seen
from many perspectives
in translucence,
simultaneously...
as if time lapsed.
images woven together,
in day and nightlight
from a sandy island
to a rocky hillside.
the vapors condense into
possibility

... 16 x 16 in. oil on masonite

broccolification of the arts

not of the
individual,
of disire
but towards
the dictates
of fashion.
the art of
the passion
of the politically correct.
as adventurous
as any project
funded by the
canada food guide.
when destinations
and the route
are predetermined
and followed in
lock-step
where is play?
serendipity?
and the exploration
of meanderings
along the way?

colour vision

note to self

With the leaves changing colour,
and raining down, it's difficult to notice
what else is happening on the forest floor.
The forest canopy seems to protect the
forest floor from the early frost.
Then the newly fallen leaves do bury everything.
note to self:
attach flags to things outside
that you think you might need
before spring

The hillside's forest edge opens to the west so as the sun sets from across a wide valley, there is something unusual about the angle of the sun. At sunset, the hillside trees are illuminated from beneath the canopy.



The jewel weed, this year luxuriant,
neck deep in yellow flower
over most of the hillside.
The stems; succulent and hollow.
When wading into the summer sea of Jewelweed,
if the time is right
you may hear the sound of falling rain-
but the sound is bursting seed pods not raindrops.
Rain drops play into the name, "jewelweed."
Water beads on the leaves, so when the sun emerges after the rain
the water droplets look like jewels.
With the heavy frost of October, while other plants survive
this succulent suddenly disappears,
and in a sense, it has returned to vapour.




The sudden spike in sunlight does not go unnoticed by the rest of the biosphere-here on the forest floor. As the blowing leaves settle into the hollows, the ferns and moss emerge from the summer eclipse.

A few years back, during one spectacular sunset, (the kind where the sky opens at the horizon beneath a solid violet-black bank of clouds), i was looking up the hillside. Looking at some big chunks of moss-covered-limstone when i saw something weird. something i couldn't understand so I went out and investigated....

It was early spring, the other season that the moss can soak up some sun. i.e. When skiing around the bush in the early spring- in a t shirt, you can lean back on those big moss draped rocks and feel the sloar gain... Anyway, it had snowed a little. What appeared above the big rocks was a phlorescent lime-green cloud, hovering above the new dusting of snow.



















The moss had sent up spore heads... transluscent green, shaped like the head of a flamingo, a bit smaller than an alfalfa sprout.
Only the spore heads were protruding through the layer of snow
and they were being illuminated with a golden light from below.

abstract surrealism

...if you're referring to the painting which you sent asking 'where did it take you?' it felt stopped and closed in as opposed to the other one which was swift and sure motion. reproductions of paintings, especially on the internet, are so different from standing looking at a painting. a different animal really. hmmm 'abstract surrealism'. way out there as opposed to only half way. the [other] image you sent took me to an underground hole with leaves and screen across the opening or that's what i remember having looked at it briefly a few minutes ago.
s.

painting above: "MVRV" oil on ply 48 x 32 in.

painting below: "not as titled" oil on canvas 66 x 80 in.

which is which?

what do you see?... there's no wrong answer

dead reckoning

dead reckoning is the process of estimating one's current position based upon a previous position and advancing that position based upon known or estimated speeds over elapsed time, and course. A disadvantage of dead reckoning is that since new positions are calculated solely from previous positions, the errors of the process are cumulative.

to blog or not to blog?

be it painting or ballet
it is not the art-form
that is dead...
as declared routinely,
it's the audience
chanting the money mantra
fingers in their ears
eyes closed.
now that there's dozens
of elephants in the room
it seems a bit pointless
choosing just one
to ignore

building

as the first snow
prompts raking leaves and
collecting from the forest floor
broken limestone to
build a retaining wall
bone white within
black earth skin
and now in the
second sun-season
the moss sprawls
luxuriant





the gothic arch
from forest maples
to gather light
soon to shed the snow
the structure to tarp the end
convex against the wind
a spinnaker in reverse.
will i be refitting for the ocean?
or will the sea be at my door
by the time i'm done

sailing

i stepped out
into a warm and windy
foggy moon-lit night
i took the oil lamp
heading into the west wind
to sit at anchor
in the woods

perhaps

perhaps it is normal
to be reversing the order of
the first and third verse-
or paragraphs
towards the easiest flow from
one idea to the next
on the airwaves
of imagination
the steps of logic
behind
blind
leaps of
intuition

painting
a number of canvases
simultaneously
in different directions
allows one to explore
the "what ifs?"
with-in
an expanding
context

painting
exploring
gravity and
viscosity
transparency
weaving a space
through intuition
explored
in the space
of curiosity-
the energy
of particle
consciousness
moving toward
complexity or
reversing
into
simplicity
we explore
the limits of
our potential
expanding and
collapsing
cycles
are real
where-as
years
measure
in only one
direction
from wherever
you
happen to be.

degrees

If time fails on it's subjectivity
if painting is out-side time
forever simultaneous,
simultaneous views
from different perspectives.
then how could art be otherwise?

of futility of moral cerainty in this age of denial

the age of denial

what did one big fat Nile croc say to the other
as they lay basking in the sun?
....Ahh, there's no place like da Nile

premonition and recollection

the cinderella slipper
both rare and
a comfort
the embrace of
time
time
time
of longing
and imagination
of silent song
dissolving
time
time
time
measuring heart beats
between words
unspoken
of rain drops
and snow flakes
dragging mountains
to the sea
time
time
time
why in heaven's name
is there no such thing
as time?

cave man banging out a rythm

rewriting

deer and crows and....

The crows were having a much more elaborate
conversation than usual this afternoon-
in what sounded like words and phrases.
There was none of the territorial or warning tone to their voices.
Were they all excited about their fledglings or perhaps
in conversation with the deer who seem to have
taken up residence on this hillside?

Or perhaps it was the wild turkeys,
several of whom were poking around
oblivious to the deer who
seemed to object
to the intrusion

the deer fly debut, and

satiated caterpillars

i watched a "friendly fly"
(big house fly with stripes)
doing a dance with a moth that was flapping around on the front of the tractor
the fly seemed to be attacking the head of the moth
.... i hear the flies lay their eggs on the moths ?

from the "give me the bad news first" dept.

begining July

i was sitting at the table
with coffee
in the summers breeze.
in shifting shadows
i noticed a colour
that wasn't green.
a doe nipping the tops off
jewel weed
if not
the new ash trees

the end of June

the forest sings
the canopy thinned
by a late snow
and crawling things
today
free of biting bugs
the wood shed now full
the tractor paths
black earth reveled
fragrant
walking through
overgrown trails
the fragrance
of wild geranium
rising
from a lacy green sea
with tiny pink flowers

enviro-ransom

question:
who stands to benifit from
BP dragging out the oil spill?
didn't the Bush/Republicans and the British
go to war together over oil?
and
who's getting tarred with
trying to get it cleaned up?

time travel

the canopy
of late in may
diminishes
in density
the sound of rain
on a sunny day
and the smell of autumn
in the air
fragments of leaves
dry underfoot and
caterpillars
in your hair

the voice of laundry

more compelling than
still images,
the monitor mesmerizes
with sound and the
illusion of movement
which act on our
basic defense mechanism
until it's overwhelmed-
and then
we buy a thy-master

we might think of
cloths flapping in the breeze
as an act of subversion

katimavik challenge

install clothes lines-
using good pulleys
mechanisms
and intelligent
lay-outs
to encourage
painting
with laundry

unattended documents

unattended documents,
like needles in haystacks,
sad too say
may hold secrets
to our survival

be it a painting
or an herbal recipe
for an antibiotic
from the trees
of the tropical
rain forest,

oppotunities missed,
opportunities lost.

dark ages

dark ages
occur when
when clouds
of greed
obscure the
wisdom of light

as the competition gears up
and world powers realign
this time the spoils will be different.
rather than the usual,
"winner takes all"
this time, the last man standing
will mark the end of the fall.

as the oil spews into the sea
the CEOs with their experts in tow
align for blame and litigation
stunning in their inability
to imagine any feasible plan "B".
any old small town plumber could have
had it solved three different ways by now.

art for dark ages

the monument:
the final testament of man's achievement

a baker's dozen figures- more or less
male and female
fat
on-all-fours
in a circle
heads up each other's asses

(in bronze because it will last a long time with no maintenance
... and make a couple for each continent so the next intelligent life to show up
will be sure to find one- we owe them a good laugh )

hear no, see no, speak no truth

how are we to a trace
the best of our passing
in the sands of a language
that is slipping through
our fingers?

Switch languages
as perception fails-
as in autistic necessity?
like leaping between boulders
looking for meaning
and finding the secret of architecture
through the dance?

it's not all that easy compared to
reading the "writing on the wall"

does the message fail if nobody notices,
as well as when language has been
overwhelmed?

time travel

As I walk the lane to pick up the mail:
I notice that some of the ash trees-
which leaf-out much later than the maples-
have retained the leaf stems from last year-
rather than being in bud.
Wondering what, if not
emerald ash borer
may be killing them?

"art and visual perception"
was my first attempt at writing about art.
It brought to light
the problem of
the interconnectedness
of all things
in simultaneity.

The model that first arose to illustrated the problem came as the drawings unfolded
around the performance art piece of sept 11 -01.
Time re-assembling itself as in
images merging towards each-other
from all different directions.
As the first of the 40-odd drawings emerged
it was apparent that there was a large gap
between the individual drawings-
some with a few graphite lines through bees wax
while other were buried in wax crayon.
But, by the time they filled the room,
sequences linking them up were everywhere.
Eventually they were shown nine-up
as they had been pinned
to the canvas stretchers in the studio.
As such, at least they could be "read"
in all different directions-
in two dimensions-
the connections shifting
with the intuition of the viewer.

colours

the double helix
might make a better model
than the colour wheel

learning

Words to the Blind

Being firmly entrenched in
the age of denial,
even if we could see,
it is not in our best interest.
If i was to paint a forest in summer leaf
with a snow covered forest floor,
would it not would be unsettling-
to anyone who
took the time to look?

May 9th- 2010
There were no song birds
singing this morning
when dawn broke
below zero
with snow.
If a volcano
was to spew
white ash
it might look like this.


For the most part,
our day-to-day existence requires that
we make assumptions about the world around us
and reject what is "wrong."
However, there's a nasty human trait that adds the ego
to reinforce willful blindness when
it comes to what we believe.

Galileo and Darwin and
"Constable's snow"
come to mind.

When I say , "I like to be wrong",
why is the statement taken with such suspicion and disbelief ?
because it's not "normal"?
because it's not normal to want to learn?
without readily abandoning
an opinion or a belief
how can we learn?

Thanks to several generations of education that
has been focused on
encouraging the student rather than
an accountability to learning,
we have an "entitlement" generation who are
unable to differentiate
their knowledge from their feelings.
To critique their work is to walk on egg shells.
Hurt feelings may be met with irate parents
and even their lawyers
( i wish i was making this up)

They want to be famous- to be "celebrated" without
troubling themselves with
learning or working to achieve
anything of note.

A university student complained "why do I have to be judged?"

If everyone in class is given an "A" just for signing up,
will best students be ok with that?
Studies have proven otherwise.
Of course she meant is that she didn't want to be "criticized" or "corrected".
Of course she did want to be judged-
but only to be celebrated.
Why the disconnect?

Remember "war is peace"? Orwell 1984?
"Big Brother" has so successfully taken control that
the young and trendy are convinced that it's their idea.
"Dumbing down" is helpful if you want to control a population.
Democracy depends on the ability to express oneself -not just permission.
Unfortunately the dumbing down has been too successful .
The "experts" who the shortsighted politicians rely on
have no idea how their policies will unfold.
(re. experts: When will they try a "wet-vac" with a tapered steel tube on the end to clean up the oil spill?)
So, the politicians resort to polling...
and doing what their dumbed down "folks" want
simply to stay in power.
Following is now
passing for leadership.


Being a painter,
How could i even imagine that
someone from the entitlement generation
would spend some time in a room full of paintings (without their personal sound system)
in case there was something of value?

If it doesn't move, flash and make noise they don't seem to be able to see it


Further,
How could we imagine them
exploring the silence
and finding their inner voice?
exploring their curiosity?
exploring the natural environment?
following the connections as they shift
with their intuition ?

Surfing the web-
on the surface may seem like
a form of exploration but
the surfers will all hit the same top
rated sites and again
succumb to the popular.

So, where does their sense of belonging come from?
what kind of "tribe" might they belong to?

Unfortunately, most of what passes for self-expression
in this consumer society
is choosing which "brands" to align oneself with.

So, if they were to recognize themselves
reflected in such an outward expression
as a painting on a wall, chances are they
would be recognizing "their brand"?

wasn't branding initially used to differentiate
livestock?


Despite some braying to the contrary
most people are content with following
the leader...
and where do we find our leaders-
our role models
but the tv and the movies
"who wants to be a millionaire?"

who else might they apprentice with?


how do you describe colours to someone
who has never seen?

snow in May

shelter

after one week in may
the forest canopy
now solid green
with rain and wind
a deer came in
from the twlight of
the open pasture
to the darkness of
forest glade

feeling

the warm embrace
of sun and earth
through the
moss coverd rocks
of spring

listenenig

for the sound of your smile
as gusts of wind
pick up leaves
curling as they emege
from the press
of winters snow

looking

through your blue eyes
as i drag a brush through colours
your expression guiding my hand
intuitive
with the music
of your gaze

intuitive touch

will the artifacts cease to inform us
as the intellegence of the hand-made diminishes?
when we pick up a hand tool, be it a fountain pen
or a hand plane, will instinct carry us across the void
so we can carry some special traditions forward?
is anthropology more crucial now than ever before
for it's lessons in, how they used to do things?

happybearthday

earth day

will we deny the
interconnectedness of
all things?
will we be
forgiven?

the flycatchers have
a nest of moss built in the woodshed
there was snow on the ground yesterday
the canopy will be bursting into solid green
by the end of the week

nickle copper

it's an alloy that has the qualities that make it a good choice for a marine environment
and it does oxidize green
but unlike stainless or silicon bronze you can cut it with a bandsaw
so it's sympathetic to hand fabrication

i made these caps to be bedded with 3M 5200 to keep the water from following the chain plates through the deck
of Calypso

earth air fire and water
imagine the wood smoke
of a viking departure
drifting skyward
through the treetops

i was cooking
over woodfire
in the woods
at sun set
in a T shirt
this first day
of songbirds
of spring

yes

yes,
the components of this blog
are arranged
to echo
the nuances
of the incremental
changes in
flow of the seasons
as you become aware of
and seek to record
the change in
the change
moment to
moment

such a fine day
the bees are abuzz
in the fresh chips
of the maple trees

the apiaries that sell
honey according to the
local flowers
begin their seasons
with basswood then
clover then star thistle
then buckwheat....
as i recall.

perhaps the first honey
has a hint of maple
because
as yet
the basswood flowers
are nowhere to been seen

moss time

forest green
48 x 66 in. private collection Toronto

observations on listening

when i wrote "depth perception",
(the piece on Wednesday)
i got up in the middle of the night
with the
the words forming
in my head.

in the voice of the biosphere
there's nothing to stop
a few words from arriving
"out of the blue"
after all, we are
natural creatures
with-in
the interconnectedness
of all things-
if we choose to remember

reminder:
participate in evolution
by being the change
of your longing

I did know that Uncle Jack
was in the darkness of a coma.
he had been in the darkness of total blindness
for the last few years
i had been paying attention
to listening

so the ideas
of wednesday
may not have been
entirely mine.

i didn't hear that Uncle Jack had died until friday
he was well into his eighties

in the imagined images
of blindness,
have the brain's pathways
of sight been
transformed to
new purpose?

besides telling us what they see
by touch, by smell... by recollection
could we not learn to see
what they are projecting
on the inner screen of their
mind's eye
in their visual imagination


what kind of
communication is possible
through imaging imagination?

what is the difference
between imagination and
bringing forth something
fully formed
with-out having given it a name?
is that where intuition
resides?
in the listening for a voice
that is not our own,
in the finding the note that arrived
in a bottle on the shore?

are these gifts?
a direct exchange of knowledge?

note to scientists:
look for the difference in the brain activity
between sighted and blind people
when you ask them to visualize something.

when we think of Beethoven imagining music
with such clarity, after he become deaf that he
was able to write the scores, how would that
rare activity appear
on the brain wave monitoring screen?

painting with fire and space and

the rythm
of the fire
with
wooden flute
accompaniment
in the late afternoon

Jack Letheren

Uncle Jack died
on wednesday
in "depth perception"
he fought for liberty
there on the coast
of Normandy
he lost an eye
and returned to
edit the words
of journals-
when word
held more sway
in democracy.
What part of the
perception of sight
learns to adapt
to compensate
for seeing
with one eye?

time travel

but wait,
scrolling in either direction
through the changes of
the seasons
and the paintings
and the words,
and
you are walking
through
the woods
on the
stepping stones
of time

cutting trees
out of the canopy
to allow others
to form it
anew

time
on another scale


our lifetime
but a day

maple springtime 80 x 66 in. (recently found a good home in Toronto)



the photogragh (below)
has been taken through
a uv polarizing lens
which is to say
the reflection in the water
had a lot more glare

depth perception

stop
look
listen to your heart beat
take a deep breath
stop
take a step in your bare feet
feel the earth
stop
listen to the voice of
eternity
stop
yes
it is about you
stop
now

photo

sunset tonight
of a few years ago-
if you know what i mean
this linear time thing is a
a bit relentless
don't you think

melttime

of course i forgot the daylight savings
so when my friend's noisy car arrived
i was listening to Enright on cbc
and had yet to make coffee
he was coming to do some recreational
firewood
the moss covered limestone
is pushing through the
fleeting blanket of snow
there was no mid-winter melt
so there's no resistant crust
luckily we started with a coffee break
because from the kitchen table i caught sight of
some movement up the hill
a doe and a yearling were making their way
to drink from the melt-water springs

two damaged maples
felled, split and stacked without mishap
began the season with half a day

invite

luckily the snow has been
too deep to start the fire wood
and the weather to fine for
grinding off gel-coat

painting hope for Haiti

"Forest Green" oil 32 x 42 inches 2009

For three days, February 26, 27 and 28, Squatters' Gallery in Flesherton will be home to a fundraiser for the Foundation for the Children of Haiti. Artists from everywhere are welcome to participate in this very worthy cause. We will have our own inventory cleared out, so there will be plenty of wall and floor space available for two and three-dimensional (any medium) pieces.

cooking on boats

I like cooking on boats
I bought the boat because
I liked the stove-
and the way she moved

boat meals:

onions
green & red pepper
olive oil
green beans
tomatoes
roasted eggplant

garlic
oregano
L&P
portabello tomatoe sauce
black pepper


on basmati
buttered

or pasta

ground beef (optional)

note to self:
build in stoage
for mason jars
and invesigate
two forestays
oh,
so now i'm a
food photographer