Transplanting Myself

An Early Morning Attempt at Watercolor

An Early Morning Attempt at Watercolor

[In Paris] I was writing about up in Michigan and since it was a wild, cold, blowing day it was that sort of day in the story.  I had already seen the end of fall come through boyhood, youth and young manhood, and in one place you could wite about it better than in another.  That was called transplanting yourself, I thought, and it could be as necessary with people as with other sorts of growing things . . .  .

Maybe away from Paris I could write about Paris as in Paris I could write about Michigan.

Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Later, I will probably post about the kind of morning I’ve had, beginning at 5:40–it has been sublime.  A significant part of the morning has been this watercolor I began last night, that takes me back to a time in my life between 1986-87.  Throughout the time that I lived in rural Whitesboro, I felt that I was sucking the marrow out of the environment, though I only knew Thoreau by reputation–I was not yet reading his works.  I was not painting in those days, but rather completing my dissertation for the Ph.D.  However, I wanted to paint and write about this land, this house where I was living.  And I felt that I could not.  All I did was take many photographs and record observations in my inaugural journal pages.

Now, twenty-eight years later, I am painting it, and remembering, much (I suppose) the way Hemingway was able to write about his significant chapters in life only after geographically and chronologically transplanting himself.  As I pore over my photographs of the textures and colors of this land and house, I remember, and am glad to remember the good things.

Thanks for reading.

I paint in order to remember.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to keep from being entirely alone.

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One Response to “Transplanting Myself”

  1. lifeofawillow Says:

    im glad you remember the good things too 🙂
    wonderful post!


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