Archive for the ‘art gallery’ Category

Commission Finished

February 3, 2019

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Thank you, all of you who have shown interest in the development of this watercolor. There have been requests to post it, so here it is, everything except the signature. This was a labor of love, as the stories behind it warm my heart and are very similar to experiences I knew, growing up and visiting my grandparents on the farm. The patron is a published author, with many fine stories to tell. I hope she publishes the stories surrounding this picture, as they have kept me good company while working on it.

Thanks for reading.

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Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen

February 3, 2019

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Breakfast at the Dairy Queen in Palestine, Texas

Enjoying my weekend in Palestine and The Redlands Hotel, I was tipped off yesterday by Jean (owner of the hotel) to try out the local Dairy Queen for breakfast. This morning when I arrived and ordered the “country breakfast,” the counter girl asked me how I wanted my eggs. “Over easy?” I hesitatingly offered. And what to drink? “Coffee.” She handed me a real mug! And, a short while later, this was brought to me, on a real plate with real silverware.

I do not take meals at the Dairy Queen, but I still recall that the one outside Archer City, Texas serves breakfast this way, as a real American diner would. When I returned to The Gallery at Redlands, I decided that I need to acquire a copy of Larry McMurtry’s Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen. I understand that this collection of essays, autobiographical in nature, contain the author’s lament at the demise of story telling in American culture, and ways in which small American towns have been drained of their local charm. Though I live in Arlington, I have found far more of a fascinating world and culture in Palestine, Texas. I am truly blessed, granted time to spend in The Gallery at Redlands and reside in The Redlands Hotel and enjoy the music and camaraderie of Kevin and Marc at Smooth Rock 93.5 FM. As I write this, I am finishing a watercolor commission for a local author (I know of two authors that live in this vicinity), and the community is awash in musicians. Many of us have the same thing in common–growing up in small towns, working and raising families in large cities, then returning to these small towns to enjoy life at a lovelier pace.

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I Should Finish this One Today

After I finish this painting, I intend to read Walter Benjamin’s 1936 essay “The Storyteller.” And who knows–I may just pick up a copy of McMurtry’s collection and see what I can glean from the reading.

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. 

Nearing the Finish of a Commission

February 2, 2019

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. . . some of the words you’ll find within yourself,

the rest some daemon will inspire you to say.

Homer, The Odyssey

While taking breaks from my painting to read from Homer’s Odyssey, I was arrested by these words Athena spoke to Telemachus when he feared that, as a youth, he did not know the proper words with which to address King Nestor. The reference to the daemon reminded me of a book I still haven’t completed reading: Allan Bloom’s The Daemon Knows. In this work, Bloom quotes an obscure reference from one of Emerson’s journals, claiming that the daemon knows where the idea is going to go. Throughout the work, Bloom extols the virtues of intuition and daring to go outside the box. He argues that we don’t know if our efforts will produce a work of genius. Nevertheless, we continue to push, continue to love the work.

I find all of this refreshing when I find myself struggling with a watercolor. With the one in progress above, I have encountered countless problems that I have not been schooled to address, and I have had to remain focused on the task. So far, nothing has happened to upset me, and the patron came in to look at it today and was pleased with the direction it is taking. Her sentiments freed me considerably, so now I am working on it with much more confidence. All the same, however, I still don’t really know what it is that makes a composition “work”, and I continue to feel this concern that I will make the wrong moves and the piece will “miss.” Even at this age, I must learn to trust my instinct and push onward.

This day has been a soothing balm, reading and painting in the gallery and greeting patrons. Soon, I’ll get to listen to my radio friend, Kevin Harris, perform a solo gig here in Palestine. Afterward, I plan to return and work late in the gallery, as the Red Fire Grille stays open late on Saturday night, and sometimes a good number of patrons come into the gallery. And who knows, maybe I’ll finish this painting tonight!

Thanks for reading.

I make art in order to learn.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog, reminding myself I am never alone.

 

 

Odyssean Wanderings

February 2, 2019

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Time Divided Between Painting and Reading

Why, dear child, what craziness got into your head?

Why bent on rambling over the face of the earth?

Homer, The Odyssey

Saturday morning finds me well-rested, and working in The Gallery at Redlands. My attention moves back and forth between a commissioned watercolor and the reading of Homer’s Odyssey. The reading always seems timely, as this morning I came across the passage of the elderly nurse grieving at the news that Telemachus was about to set sail to distant Sparta and Pylos in search of his father Odysseus. She wonders why he is bent on rambling.

As I am now composing my own memoir, imspired by Julia Cameron’s It’s Never Too Late to Begin Again, I acknowledge that I have always been a wanderer at heart, though I managed to hold down the same job for twenty-eight years. Still, I always had the urge to travel, and since retiring, that gift has been offered to me. Having spent a week in west Texas, I made the five-and-a-half hour drive home to spend a few days, and then found myself moving back and forth between Palestine and Arlington (two-hour drive), as I celebrated the birthday of a dear friend in Palestine, returned to Arlington to work as district Spelling Bee pronouncer for my twenty-fifth year, and then come back down to spend the rest of the weekend working in the gallery, my sacred space.

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Celebrating Ron Darr’s Birthday at the Red Fire Grille

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Gallery at Redlands with Smooth Rock 93.5 FM Broadcasting

The morning after Ron’s birthday celebration, we had fun meeting the Smooth Rock broadcasting team. Kevin and Marc welcomed my friends to the station and visited with them for a long stretch of the morning.  Driving back to Arlington, I rose early the next morning for a Spelling Bee, featuring two competitions that stretched from 8:30-3:30. When it was over, the children were exhausted as was I, and I still had a two-hour drive ahead of me, as I chose to return to The Gallery at Redlands to spend the weekend.

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Posing with One of the Champions

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Posing with a Co-Champion and his Sister who went Deep into the Competition

Outside, Palestine is dark and overcast–the perfect environment for coffee, books and painting, from my perspective. Tonight, Kevin Harris will be doing a solo acoustic gig at Bishops Barbecue. I look forward to attending that event. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy the Saturday calm in the gallery.

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. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday Morning Coffee in the Gallery at Redlands

January 13, 2019

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View from my Desk as the Morning Finally Breaks

Just as the potter’s wheel, once set in motion, still turns for a long time and then turns only very slowly and stops, so did the wheel of the ascetic, the wheel of thinking, the wheel of discrimination still revolve for a long time in Siddhartha’s soul; it still revolved, but slowly and hesitatingly, and it had nearly come to a standstill.  . . . But on the other hand his senses became more awakend, they learned a geat deal, experienced a great deal.

Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

Sunday morning, daybreak in The Gallery at Redlands is providing rich sanctuary. The words from Siddhartha come back to me:

Within you there is a stillness and sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself. 

A long shadow looms across my desk, crosses the floor and climbs the gallery wall before me: the towering edifice of Sacred Heart Catholic Church rises behind me. In a few hours, the sounds of traffic will increase, joined by myriads of voices of worshipers moving along the sidewalk and crossing the street to attend mass. The silence I know now will soon yield to that white noise. At this point in my life, I feel I live more in the silence than in the white noise, and the change is welcome.

As I move to the closing chapters of Siddhartha, the passage at the top of this blog came along, and I felt something stirring from deep within. My mind drifted back eighteen years to an intersection in my life calling for a life-altering decision. At that time I was teaching high school full time, university part time, and serving as education director of a large urban Methodist Church. I was commuting a considerable distance to all three of those locations. Life was spinning out of control, as all my time was chewed up by tasks–lectures, lesson plans, administrative meetings, and constant driving to appointments. I had just taken up the brush again, after a couple of decades of artistic hiatus, and wished for some quality studio time to create. I was just getting accepted into art galleries. I wanted to experience the soulful calming effect of the arts, but felt my life was burning out with too many occupational demands.

Things suddenly came to a head, and I immediately severed all my connections accept the full-time high school teaching post, deciding it was time to slow things down. But as we all know, nature abhors a vacuum. All the empty spaces created by the terminations were immediately filled as my high school saddled me with more courses and more responsibilities. So I continued to spin my wheels, cranking out lectures, lesson plans, tests and activities for new courses that just kept coming. In my final eighteen years of high school instruction, I taught ten different subjects, six of them brand new subjects for me. I switched to a different university for adjunct duties, and ended up teaching five new subjects, all of them for the first time in my life. In addition to this, I began to find more galleries to carry my art work, and began participaing in art festivals. So again I found my life incinerating in an inferno of responsibilities.

In May 2017, after twenty-eight years, I retired from full-time high school teaching, and I feel that life has finally slowed and calmed. My university courses are now online, and the subjects I know comfortably. My time in the studio, painting and drawing, is quiet, and my calendar has very few appointments. Of course, this has required quite an adjustment in my thinking: after decades of living in the hurricane, I frequently second-guess my status, sensing that there is some assignment I am forgetting to do. I am continually shocked to awaken to a day absent of demands.

Those who know me well are probably chuckling by now, knowing that I always seem to be “somewhere else”, always driving to another place. But I choose that; it is not demanded of me. What is most precious in my life now is that I generally awaken before daylight, but don’t have to dash into the shower, dress and eat quickly to make my 7:35 a.m. class (after twenty-eight years!). And I no longer have to come home tired at the end of the day, having watched 125 students storm through my classroom. I can enjoy bliss in my home, because I no longer have a myriad of tasks to accomplish in order to show up prepared for classes the following day. The league of morons in American society who believe public school teachers are overpaid for very little work have no clue at all. They don’t know that teachers face a stampede of students five days a week and then bring their work home at the end of the day–grading, preparing for the next day, returning phone calls to parents, going to bed late at night–and as for myself, I was never, never, NEVER caught up. There was always a task delayed, a report not filed, papers not yet graded, and then at the worst time, someone would manage to let me know that the students deserved better. (I just needed to get that off my chest. Two years after leaving it behind, I still taste the gall).

O.K. Finally to get to the real point of this post, the quote at the top of this page: The potter’s wheel of my life turns more slowly now. With the erasure of all those calendar deadlines, I now find quality time–hours–for daily reading and pondering and recording of ideas. Quality time for scribbling in the journal. Quality time to compose lectures now delivered to an audience of one–me. And I love and embrace this. I feel as if finally a reward is offered for all those decades of chasing deadlines and performing tasks on command. The wheel turns slowly now, but there is genuine quality in those revolutions. I can now savor what I read, take more time to write and revise, and create art at my leisure. And when I decide to travel the open road, I can.

These are truly turning out to be Golden Years. I am so happy I decided not to push my service to thirty years. Twenty-eight was more than enough. My life is worth more than the few extra dollars earned by staying another year or two at a profession that was chewing me up. I am extremely happy to be in this new life.

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.

 

 

Return to the Gallery at Redlands

January 11, 2019

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Early Morning Country Drive

Waking at 5 a.m. is not my cup of tea, but I was motivated this morning: Smooth Rock 93.5 FM broadcasts out of the Gallery at Redlands in the historic Redlands Hotel in Palestine, Texas, two hours from my home. So, after being away several weeks over Christmas and New Year holidays, I decided I wanted to see my friends again, Kevin Harris and Marc Mitchell, during their live broadcast. Thanks to streaming, I listen to them nearly every weekday morning from 7-10:00 (I live outside their broadcast range), but this morning I decided I wanted to be in the gallery while they performed their magic. After driving through ninety minutes of miserable rain, I was greeted by an idyllic sunrise, and by the time I reached Palestine, was in the dry once again.

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Kevin Harris Broadcasting “Kevin and Marc in the Morning”

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And here is Marc Mitchell

Sure enough, when I entered the gallery, they immediately invited me to join them in the live broadcast. Oftentimes, Kevin gives me a heads up about what we are going to discuss, and then there are those times when I just hear the prompts the same time the listening audience does. This morning featured a little of both, as we discussed Leonardo da Vinci, Johannes Vermeer, and some related art ideas. I have that live slot behind me now, so I can just enjoy working at my desk and listening to this pair create this amazing radio presence.

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How many Radio Stations broadcast from an Art Gallery?

When I was notified last summer that a radio station was moving into The Gallery at Redlands, I was immediately enthusiastic, but had no idea just how magnificent this arrangement would turn out to be. I could not have asked for friendlier and more interesting “roommates” as I find with this duo. Their broadcast experience they manage to blend with a sense of humor and all-around joie de vivre that makes them a true delight to know. I have told countless friends that anyone feeling nervous about participating in a live broadcast will immediately find their fears allayed by the way these men handle live discussion formats; they melt the fear away immediately. And they have real fun in their work.

Moving on to another subject now . . .

I always love to pause and reflect over the emergence of a new year. Over the past two months, I have adopted the “Janus-faced” perspective I addressed in a recent blog. January is named after the Roman god Janus, depicted by a double-face looking simultaneously ahead and behind. As I prepare to retire 2018 and lean forward into 2019, I wish to comment on this morose passage I just read from Herman Hesse’s Steppenwolf:

And while I ate and drank there came over me that feeling of change and decay and of farewell celebrations, that sweet and inwardly painful feeling of being a living part of all the scenes and all the things of an earlier life that has never yet been parted from, and from which the time to part has come. The modern man calls this sentimentality.

Frankly, I don’t recall ever entertaining these feelings during a New Year’s watch. For me, such times have always been an invitation to reflect, be thankful for the good that has been received, and find ways to deal with the not-so-good. I don’t look upon this past year as a bad one in my personal life, though plenty happened that I didn’t relish, and I don’t feel the need to gnaw on those distasteful bones any longer. Many wonderful things came my way, and I am thrilled to bring them into 2019 with me.

As far as goals and planning are concerned, I am very happy not to enter a classroom for an entire semester, and to see how successfully I can manage online instruction. As to art shows, I have nothing on my calendar until March and April, so, like a farmer in winter that gives attention to maintenance issues, I welcome this time to work on my art, my business, and tend details that need my attention. The planting season will arrive soon, and I pray for a successful harvest later in the year.

I have a wonderful stack of books waiting to be read, and am so glad to be free of deadlines for awhile. Hopefully, I’ll continue to find passages worthy of comment in future blogs.

Thanks for reading. And so, until next time, this is David Tripp signing off from the Gallery at Redlands, home of Smooth Rock 93.5 FM, situated in the historic Redlands Hotel in downtown Palestine, Texas.  I wish all of you an exquisite day.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

 

The Next Turn of the Wheel

December 20, 2018

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New Work on a Commission

There are moments in our lives, there are moments in a day, when we seem to see beyond the usual, such are the moments of our greatest happiness. Such are the moments of our greatest wisdom. If one could but recall his vision by some sort of sign. It was in this hope that the arts were invented. Sign-posts on the way to what may be. Sign-posts toward greater knowledge.

Robert Henri, The Art Spirit

Finally, I am painting again! Nearly a month has passed since I’ve worked seriously in watercolor, as the college schedule heated up before dismissing for Christmas, and then a surgical procedure rendered me dormant for over a week.

I am writing now from the Gallery at Redlands, and listening to my roommates “Kevin and Marc in the Morning” on Smooth Rock 93.5 FM, less than twenty feet to my right. Last night the radio station hosted the Blue Santa Toy Drive with the Palestine Police Department in the driver’s seat. The evening was filled with acoustic musical performances, all of them first-rate. The lobby and gallery were filled with people all night and the unwrapped toy donations filled the space beneath the lobby tree, and then the histoiric elevator car was filled to capacity. I worked on the painting above as people moved in and out of the gallery, and our open door allowed the live music to flow in.

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Our Gallery Window, Tricked out for Christmas

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Heather Little performing in the Lobby

As warm music and conversation filled the Redlands Hotel last night, I felt the lovely spirit of Christmas joy.  Among the many highlights of my night was meeting Heather Little, a singer/songwriter from the area whose presence helped light up the night. Before she went on, she introduced herself to me in the gallery, admired my work, and visited with me awhile, answering all my questions about song writing. Her original tunes created a hush among the formerly loquacious gathering, and I am proud to insert her website below for your listening pleasure. If you are in the Dallas area, I highly recommend you checking out her venues.

http://www.heatherlittlemusic.com/

After the evening wound down, I retired to my suite upstairs and resumed reading Hermann Hesse’s Steppenwolf, a novel I read with great fulfilment around 1987, and decided to re-read after a number of references popped up about the work and its background in my recent reading of John Kaag’s Hiking with Nietzsche. Last night the following words found their mark in my soul:

And these men, for whom life has no repose, live at times in their rare moments of happiness with such strength and indescribable beauty, the spray of their moment’s happiness is flung so high and dazzlingly over the wide sea of suffering, that the light of it, spreading its radiance, touches others too with its enchantment. Thus, like a precious, fleeting foam over the sea of suffering arise all those works of art, in which a single individual lifts himself for an hour so high above his personal destiny that his happiness shines like a star and appears to all who see it as something eternal and as a happiness of their own. 

While reading these words, I reflected over the lovely night I had enjoyed downstairs in the gallery and lobby. As the night filled with patrons and acoustic musicians, I watched from my drafting table as a world slowly emerged from my brush. Out of the white abyss, a house and trees slowly took form with layers of color combinations I had not previously used. This is the part of making art that moves me in ways I cannot describe. As I have told my friends, I love the Genesis creation narrative, of God creating a world out of chaos. Every time I gaze into a white rectangular space with brush in hand I feel a shiver as I ponder the possibilities that could emerge from that space. Watching something take shape from the tip of my brush still moves me. The Genesis narrative says God created people in his own image. I have long maintained that that “image” is the creative instinct that is inborn with all of us. Why do we create? Because we were created with that drive.

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.

Voyage Dallas Just Published Me

November 28, 2018

Below, I have posted the link to an interview just published on Voyage Dallas.

http://voyagedallas.com/interview/today-wed-like-introduce-david-tripp/

 

Morning Coffee with Dave and Walt Whitman

November 2, 2018
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In The Gallery at Redlands, Working on Whitman Collages & Greeting Cards

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, 
Healthy, free, the world before me, 
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. 
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, 
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, 
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, 
Strong and content I travel the open road. 
Walt Whitman, “Song of the Open Road”
Yesterday, after class, I set off for Palestine to work in my gallery and make preparations for the weekend Genny Wood Art Show & Sale. After the two-hour drive through the country, enjoying the bright sun and 60-degree weather, and filled with the ecstasies of Kerouac’s odyssey, I decided upon reaching Palestine to spend some time outdoors. I had spent too much time the past few weeks chasing deadlines. Finding a park bench beneath an enormous shade tree, I sat in the cool, took a cleansing breath, and opened my volume of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.  Reading Kerouac’s On the Road yesterday prompted me to look up Whitman’s “Song of the Open Road” today. He published this poem the year after his Leaves of Grass took flight, and the adrenaline was apparently still surging through his creative consciousness. My heart floods with good sentiments every time I read verses such as this from Whitman’s hand.
After five years of reading rave reviews of his Leaves of Grass (some of which he published anonymously himself!), he felt the time had come to publish a second edition of this collection of poems. There was only one problem–he had reached ebb tide and his creative surge had faltered. Perhaps he was still too young (first edition came out when he was thirty-seven) to realize that creative output is cyclical. At any rate, he was feeling morose and second-guessing whether or not he had genuine talent or was just over-sold with that first edition.
While walking pensively one evening along the seashore, he composed a poem that reflected his sagging sentiments of the time: “As I Ebb’d with the Ocean of Life”–
O baffled, balk’d, bent to the very earth, 
Oppress’d with myself that I have dared to open my mouth, 
Aware now that amid all that blab whose echoes recoil upon me I have not once had the least idea who or what I am, 
But that before all my arrogant poems the real Me stands yet untouch’d, untold, altogether unreach’d, 
Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congratulatory signs and bows, 
With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word I have written, 
Pointing in silence to these songs, and then to the sand beneath.
Whitman’s second edition of Leaves of Grass contains a number of troubled verses replete with his second-guessing. As we all know, he got over it eventually. The surge returned, and the collection of twelve poems grew to over five hundred, as he remained prolific throughout his life.
This is why I read so much biography–I want to learn all I can from these creative heroes about the dynamics of creative eros, including those barren times when the winds of inspiration have stilled, and how they addressed the problem.  At this very moment I am tired, exhausted. But not depressed, not panicky. I am confident that quality time for creating will offer itself up to me again, and that I will be ready to answer the bell. But for now, the appointments are joined end-to-end, it is the high season for art festivals and shows, the semester at the university is entering its final stretch run, and there is much demanded from me. I thank God that I am (semi) retired, have my health, and at least don’t have to answer to a Monday-Friday, 40-hour a week job. Life is much better now, and at least I can find the time to sit beneath a shade tree, read, reflect, and think about where I am going next. I have never been happier, even when tired.
Today I am packing up the Gallery to take to the Genny Wood Art Show & Sale at the Bullard First United Methodist Church Family Life Center. Today I will enjoy seeing my artist friends again as we set up, and the show will run all day Saturday. Below are a pair of photos of my booth from last year. I am hoping to make a much better display this year. Among my offerings will be collages of my creative heroes, including Walt Whitman and Jack Kerouac.
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Last Year’s Display at the Genny Wood Art Show & Sale

Smooth Rock 93.5 FM is humming along in fine fashion as I write this. I cannot describe how much I enjoy my new “roommates” as they broadcast out of this gallery, looking out their “Window to the World.” The Redlands Hotel is decorating for Christmas and yesterday began bringing decorations into the gallery and studio. The “Kevin and Marc in the Morning” show broadcasts live from 7-10 a.m. Monday through Friday. You can stream it on your computer, and even get the app for your android or I-phone.

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“Kevin & Marc in the Morning”–Smooth Rock 93.5 FM

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.

 

Shifting Gears

October 30, 2018

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A Moment with “Kevin and Marc in the Morning”

I am back at my own desk at home this morning, preparing for my Logic class, but my heart is still beating in Palestine. The weekend was filled with great moments, as I enjoyed my new friends, Kevin Harris and Marc Mitchell, while they hosted the Hot Pepper Festival. Spending the entire Sunday in the old country store was also a profound blessing, especially watching the deer come out in the evening to graze. Yesterday was a labor intensive Monday, as I rearranged the gallery yet again and took down all my art work in the lobby of the Redlands Hotel. Weekday morning hours in the gallery are always electric, as “Kevin and Marc in the Morning” pulsates just twenty feet to my right, in the same gallery. The fellows surprised me by calling me over to the microphone twice this time. I never know what will happen when I sit at the broadcast table with them. I wish everyone could experience firsthand the dynamics of a live radio broadcast.

Now it is back to my other job–teaching Logic at Texas Wesleyan University, the institution that has been so good to me since the year 2000, providing adjunct contracts that help keep my mind sharp. Nietzsche wrote of the dual forces of Apollo and Dionysus that work in our psychological makeup, with Apollo representing order and Dionysus providing spontaneity (many like to speak of left brain/right brain issues). With my art and passion and overall lifestyle, I have been closer to Dionysus, often feeling more disorganized and undisciplined than creative. Yet, Apollo has had his say in many of my life skill disciplines as well, and most particularly, teaching Logic, with all its inflexible structures.

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This morning I will introduce the Traditional Square of Opposition, credited to Aristotle. I particularly enjoy this part of the semester, and appreciate the positive attitude of this semester’s students.  And of course, a ton of grading will be waiting for me once I return home from class. But . . . by bedtime, all of this will be completed and tucked away. Meanwhile, I continue to seek quality in 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.