Into the Labyrinthe

“The beginning and end of all literary activity is the reproduction of the world that surrounds me by means of the world that is in me, all things being grasped, related, recreated, molded, and reconstructed in a personal form and original matter.


This Goethe quote was carried about in the wallet of the great American painter Edward Hopper. It was surging in my mind this evening as I carved out another drawing of the trees in my back yard, using my previous drawings and one watercolor as a model. For the past couple of days, my mind has been absorbed with the creative minds of Robert Motherwell, Edward Hopper, James Joyce and now Goethe. I am passionate about art and ideas, and nightly I am conflicted over whether I should read, write, make art or just sit before the fireplace quietly and just think. There doesn’t seem time for all the above.

That wasn’t intended as a complaint; I’m deeply grateful for the abundance of life.

Thanks for reading.

I make art to help me think.
I journal when I feel alone.
I blog to remind myself that I am not alone.

2 Responses to “Into the Labyrinthe”

  1. Heidi Russell Says:

    David, do you ever do just nothing? It’s my ultimate luxury.


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