Colorado Decompression

No, I am no longer There. Yet “There” is still “Here”

What a beautiful day. More than ever I realized how much I liked wandering alone. I described my day to Bill Tweed, but as I did so, I realized that I couldn’t do it justice. A day like that can’t be shared; that must not be what they are for. There was no reason for anyone else to be interested. Maybe they are like dreams in that sense. It was a walk only, not an adventure. Writing about it might resemble writing about gardening more than writing about climbing. Contemplative writing, landscape writing, the experience of peace . . . I need here to take on this problem, which possibly can’t be solved, although really every human experience should be legible.

Kim Stanley Robinson, The High Sierra: A Love Story

Settled back in my home on Sunday morning, I still have the Colorado mountain mystique wrapped about me like a comfortable robe. But reading Kim Robinson above reminds me that I cannot encapsulate the experience in words, no matter how deeply I reach into the well of words. But I sit here comfortably in my Studio Eidolons, surrounded by books, paintings, my journal, and the memories. And that is enough.

Colorado watercolor titled A Van Gogh Moment. 11 x 14″ framed. $150

I painted this from the view above where I was reading the book on the cabin deck. As I looked up and admired the flowing stream, a fisherman ambled by and I took his picture with my phone. His blue jacket and broad-brimmed light-colored hat reminded me of the Van Gogh painting below. I decided, Why not give it a try? I’m glad I did. Yet another memory preserved of a perfect getaway.

The Painter on the Road to Tarascon, Vincent Van Gogh

I’m glad I have a few days respite before I have to jump back into a moderately heavy art calendar. It feels good to rest and reflect for the day.

Thanks for reading.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

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