Archive for the ‘snow’ Category

Waiting for the Oracle

February 17, 2021
Enjoying the fire and soft music playing
Winter sotrm warnings continue till 8 tonight

We cannot will to have insights. We cannot will creativity. But we can will to give ourselves to the encounter with intensity of dedication and commitment. The deeper aspects of awareness are activated to the extent that the person is committed to the encounter.

Rollo May, The Courage to Create

Rising early this morning I breathed a prayer of gratitude for shelter and warmth during this horrid winter storm. So many around us continue to suffer power outages. In the midst of this, verbal poison cascades across the airwaves from small political figures, striving to fix blame on someone else for Texas not being sufficiently prepared for such an onslaught of snow, ice and sustained sub-freezing temperatures. My only wish is that elected leaders would expend their energy fixing these problems occurring on their watch, rather than fixing blame.

Grateful for shelter, my morning has begun like most of the others–sitting with coffee, reading, thinking, recording thoughts in my journal, waiting for some kind of oracle, some encouraging word to get me going on the day’s tasks. With the inclement weather forcing us to stay indoors, Sandi and I continue to lay down plans for our gallery’s Meet the Artist reception set for March 20. The various organizational tasks add plenty of variety to the day, but again, I pledge to be just as much the artist as the gallerist.

Rollo May once again has kickstarted my impetus to roll the creative wheel further. I have always affirmed his statement that we cannot will creativity; we simply have to adjust our sails in preparation for the winds of inspiration that will ultimately blow. Now that May’s words have sufficiently stirred me to action, I quickly dash out this blog before entering Studio Eidolons. An 8 x 10″ beginning to the Fort Worth Union Pacific railyard near Tower 55 lies on my drafting table, awaiting my next move. I’m trying to find a way to work atmosphere into the composition rather than mere minute details. Somehow I hope to get fog and exhaust into the picture. I’m still experimenting. Hopefully by my next blog I’ll have more painting to show along with a piece of the new Hank narrative I’ve been working on for several days now.

I hate to disrupt the sleeping dogs and leave the fireplace, but the oracle has arrived and I am ready to respond.

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.

Painting at Winter Sunrise

February 16, 2021
Days that begin with painting are better than those that do not

When the early morning light quietly

grows above the mountains . . .

                        The world’s darkening never reaches

                           to the light of Being.

                        We are too late for the gods and too

                           early for Being. Being’s poem,

                           just begun, is man.

Martin Heidegger, “The Thinker as Poet”

The dogs always wake me before daylight. This morning is no exception, though it is one degree outside. After feeding, the dogs returned to bed, but it’s too late for me; thoughts move too quickly for me to return to sleep now. Studio Eidolons was dark as I resumed work on this watercolor, so I turned on a swing arm lamp and began. As I worked, I soon became aware of a change in the quality of light on the page. I looked up to see the sun peeking through the suburban horizon of trees. Recalling this passage from Heidegger, I looked it up and now share it with my fellow artists who embrace the invitation to create. And as I work, my song goes out to The Twelve, wondering if any of them found the studio at this hour. In thirty-three days we will join together to celebrate the new opening of The Gallery at Redlands. I can hardly wait for the first time when we finally get to sit together as a group and pour out our hearts in earnest conversation about the stirrings of the heart that urge us to create.

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.

Gratefully Snowbound in Texas

February 14, 2021
Lovely snowfall outside Studio Eidolons

So all night long the storm roared on:
The morning broke without a sun;
In tiny spherule traced with lines
Of Nature’s geometric signs,
In starry flake, and pellicle,
All day the hoary meteor fell;

John Greenleaf Whittier, “Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl”

My 1881 edition of Whittier

The weather forecast told us snow would fall throughout the night. Sure enough, when dogs woke me at 5:45, wanting to be let outside for their constitutional, I was delighted to see the lovely carpet of white across the back patio. Even more, I loved going to the woodpile to kick snow off the top pieces of wood to bring inside and start a fire in the fireplace. I had to wait for the dogs to stop frolicking in the unknown powder before going back inside.

As I write this in the afternoon, the snowfall has not abated, and is not expected to. We went to the store yesterday with all the multitudes to stock up on provisions, as we are expecting about five days of plummeting temperatures and additional snowfall Wednesday. What currently falls is not expected to go away as temperatures remain in the teens. This is highly unusual for north Texas.

I am ecstatic to announce that I have begun a new cycle of Hank stories to continue my Turvey’s Corner project. I awoke with the dogs this morning, and new Hank adventures visited me in my sleep. All day I have been typing and the pages are piling up. I am not yet ready to release the stories as they are still rough drafts. But by the time we open our Gallery at Redlands March 20, I’ll be ready to let them out. My boyhood friend Wayne White (alias Hank) will be joining us, not only to display his photography in our new showing of artists’ works, but also to join me in presenting a gallery talk on the latest from Turvey’s Corner. I am ecstatic that the public will finally meet “Hank” and get a chance to know him better and see his work along with the new things I’ve been creating. We anticipate an exciting weekend March 19-20, as this new group known as The Twelve will present the new face of The Gallery at Redlands. It appears that enthusiasm is already building in Palestine; a painting from one of our new artists sold last night. Congratulations, Cecilia!

a new sketch in progress of Fort Worth’s Tower 55 from a photograph taken in 1975 (part of the Hank saga)
newly completed watercolor from the Hank saga in an 8 s 10″ frame. $100

I am delighted to have an excuse not to get in the truck and drive somewhere to keep an appointment. With the lovely snow falling harder by the hour, I love sitting here in Studio Eidolons and watching it while writing Hank stories, watercoloring, sketching, reading, and scribbling in my journals. I cannot think of a more wonderful way to pass the day.

Thank you for reading.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

What Do Artists Do All Day?

January 26, 2021
Bright Sunlight Floods Studio Eidolons

“We all need white space–which is to have time when we aren’t doing, but being,” [Penny] Zinker said, citing activities like thinking, reading, being in nature and unplugging from electronics. “That doesn’t mean that it isn’t a bit structured–we can go to a yoga class or join a hiking group” she added. “It creates structure so that we create that white space.”

Meera Jagannathan, “Here’s how to make the most of your ‘executive time’ at work”, MarketWatch

While working in the studio this morning, I had the TV tuned into a series of You-Tube documentaries: What Do Artists Do All Day? As I listened to the interviews, I wondered about giving my own account. For quite awhile I have had this notion to share on the blog my day-to-day activity in Studio Eidolons.

My routine is quite regular. The dogs are never going to let me sleep past 7:00 a.m. After feeding them, I move on to my favorite morning task–grinding beans and French-pressing New Mexico Piñon coffee. Sandi and I enjoy quiet coffee time with snuggling dogs drifting back to sleep after getting their bellies full. Over coffee, I scratch out the first lines in my daily journal, musing over what to read to set the tone for the day.

Coffee time merges into executive time, or white space time. This always involves books, my real passion. During all the years I taught, the classes began at 7:35, so there wasn’t really quality white space for morning reading then. Now with retirement in full bloom, I have the delicious option of reading the entire day if I choose, and I frequently choose. Recently, I’ve completed my reading of The River Why and Goodbye to a River. Those books have already set the stage for my next project in watercoloring. Now I am re-reading Friedrich Schiller’s series of letters: On the Aesthetic Education of Man. During my senior years, I have this compulsion to articulate my own theory of aesthetics and why I draw and paint the way I do.

Usually by mid-morning, I lay the books and journal aside and enter Studio Eidolons, my beloved creative space, named after Walt Whitman’s poem Eidolons. In the morning, light floods the windows and drafting tables in a manner I find very inviting. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been on a watercolor binge, featuring canyons and snowy evergreen trees. Today I have given to framing them all so I can get them into the gallery.

My First Sedona Watercolor, 11×14″ framed. $400

Two summers ago, we visited the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and the red rocks of Sedona. From the backyard of our rented dwelling, I looked out on this rock formation, and in the course of a single morning began twenty 8 x 10″ compositions. The one pictured above was the very first attempt. Sometime during this past year, I took it out of my stack of unfinished work and put the finishing touches on it.

Sedona Again. 11×14″ framed. $450

Same story with this one–removed from storage and completed, but not framed till this morning.

Sedona. Sold.

This painting I also completed in the past year, and I was preparing to frame it, but a dear friend from my past saw it on Instagram and purchased it. So it is gladly making its way now to its new home. Thanks, Chris!

My Sweet Studio Companion

Baby Paddington has turned out to be a loving and quiet friend in the studio. All he asks is to be near me while I work on my projects.

Snowy Evergreens. 11×14″ framed. $450
Snow Evergreens II. 11×14″ framed. $450
Snow Evergreens III. 11×14″ framed. $450
First Snowy Evergreens. Sold

A couple of weeks ago I began a series of experiments with snowy evergreens, and before I began the framing, a dear friend found one of them on Instagram and made the purchase. This one is now in his home. Thanks, Jeff! The other three paintings have been prepared for a class I’ll teach tomorrow (Wednesday, Jan. 27) at Show Me the Monet Gallery in Arlington. I am teaching Watercolor Wednesdays there, about three times a month currently. I have already booked three for February. Anyone interested in any of those three-hour sessions can find the appropriate information on my Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/davidtrippart

Reading, Writing and Decompression

After a full day of working on art in the studio, I love to decompress with further reading and reflection. As the sun approaches the horizon and the shadows lengthen, I love sitting at the drafting table and looking out across the neighborhood. Today has been another one of those sweet days.

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.

Saturday Morning Thoughts from The Gallery at Redlands

January 16, 2021

Heraclitus attracts exegetes as an empty jampot wasps; and each new wasp discerns traces of his own favorite flavor.

Jonathan Barnes, Presocratics

Good morning from the sunny Gallery at Redlands! Every time I come back here, I am warmed by greetings from friends I haven’t seen in awhile, and last evening in the Gallery was no exception. This morning’s reading from the fragments of Heraclitus (2500 years ago) has gotten my head spinning, and just as I was second-guessing myself as to how much of my own thoughts I was reading into the writings of this ancient sage, I came across the statement posted above from Jonathan Barnes.

I will always be grateful that the seminary taught me to read Greek long ago. Lingering over fragment 80 of Heraclitus this morning spurred me to “darkening” many pages from my journal (I love Leonard Cohen’s “darkening” vs. scribbling when it comes to journaling). Heraclitus regarded the world’s dynamic as a perpetual clash of opposites. These clashes, according to Heraclitus, created harmonies the same way as happens with the bow and lyre.

They do not understand how, while differing from, it is in agreement with itself. There is a back-turning connection, like that of a bow or lyre.

Heraclitus, Fragment 51

In previous blogs, I have shared Heidegger’s philosophy of art as a strife between earth and world. “Earth”, to Heidegger, refers to the natural world as it is. “World” refers to everything the artist brings to earth when s/he attempts to create art. There emerges a struggle, because earth does not surrender willingly what it conceals. At the same time, the artist’s world does not remain unchanged during this struggle to make art. Out of the struggle, a third element, “art”, rises. Art is the result of the collision of earth and world.

Heraclitus describes the clash as one that results in harmonies. The Greek word translated “harmonies” could be rendered “construction” or “connection.” Another translator renders it “fitting together” or “attunement.” At this point, I found my imagination firing with applications to my own processes in trying to make a successful watercolor.

New work in progress in the Gallery

As I continue experimenting with 8 x 10″ compositions of evergreens in snow, the observations of Heraclitus are giving me some clarity. The collision of opposites is going on constantly, between wet and dry surface, warm vs. cool colors, contrasts of dark and light, movments between space and form, and the struggle between complementary colors.

Today I have been adjusting my colors between the complements of green and red, and feel that I have learned a great deal about how those two colors and their variations work side-by-side in these forest compositions. I’m going to continue exploring the fragments of Heraclitus to see what else I can glean about unity in diversity, harmony in conflict, etc.

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.

Further Snow Meditations

January 11, 2021
A Second 8 x 10″ Attempt

In the pocket notebook I carried is scribbled, early among the entries for that morning: “The hard thing is to get slowed down.”

What that means in relation to my activities just then is a bit mysterious to me. Probably it means I was impatient with my own dawdling slowness, prodigious and no trouble at all to attain, and that I then grew irked with my impatience. Impatience is a city kind of emotion, harmonious with “drive” and acid-chewed, jumping stomachs, and I presume we need it if we are to hold our own on the jousting ground this contemporary world most often is.

John Graves, Goodbye to a River

Three years into retirement, I still find myself at times moving about in high gear as though I have appointments to keep. And when I do slow down, I feel internally guilty, as though I am supposed to be doing something. Yesterday’s snowfall throughout the day slowed things down, and the experience was precious. It has carried over into today, though the snow has evaporated, the sun is bright, and temperatures are rising. Still, I choose to linger in my studio and experiment with a new set of paintings. The one posted above is attempt #2 of snowy evergreens, and #3 is also in progress. Two other blank surfaces are lingering on the sidelines.

I have been dizzy with freedom since spreading out five surfaces and opting to go experimental with color combinations and techniques. My assistants have been a bottle of Richeson Mediums that I use with a toothbrush to spatter the masquing for snow effects along with a fan brush intended for acrylic painting to get the splayed effect of pine needles. Sprinkles of salt and dry bread crumbs have also worked to break up the wet washes of color spread about. I’ve also been spritzing with a fingertip sprayer manufactured by The Bottle Crew.

I have spread out an assortment of colors to get a variety of greens, beginning with Winsor Blue mixed with Transparent Yellow for one base green, then Winsor Green and Alizarin Crimson for a darker green. To vary the greens, I have mixed in the following: Daniel Smith Quinacridone Gold and Quinacridone Sienna. Also touches of Winsor Red Deep and Daniel Smith Quinacridone Rose. For the dead trees in the background, I have blended all the above colors to produce a warm gray, and have also used HB and 5H pencils along with one of my recent favorites: the Blackwing Matte pencil.

Soon I shall be leaving to spend a day on the Brazos River in search of stocked rainbow trout. I’m ready to get back into the stream with a flyrod. Also, I plan to take along sketch materials for potential drawings and watercolors of that magnificent basin that carves its way across the Palo Pinto terrain. I’ve had an itch to paint cliffs topped with cedars, and that is the nearest location I can think of that offers those views.

Stay tuned for more, and thanks always for reading.

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

Snowy Meditations

January 10, 2021
Watching the snow fall from the windows of Studio Eidolons

A wise man will hear, and will increase learning; and a man of understanding shall attain unto wise counsels, to understand a proverb and the interpretation, the words of the wise and their dark sayings.

Proverbs 1:5-6, KJV

Baby Paddington has decided to nest in his bed and watch as well

It is extremely rare in north central Texas to see snow falling. Snow may have hit my neighborhood while I was away for winter holidays, but I myself have not seen the white powder in Arlington, Texas for at least five years. This morning is making up for it–I slept in till nearly 9:00 and the snow was falling heavily when I got up. Now, at 1:30 it is still coming down in huge, wet flakes. Accumulation should be minimal as the ground has not been frozen yet this winter and the temperatures are lingering in the upper 30’s. Our low forecast is set for 32; we’re not near that yet. Still, the skies are filled with white flakes, the ground is getting covered, and I am loving my coffee, fireplace, Christmas tree and adequate windows to the neighborhood.

Occasionally on Sundays, I will take out the Bible and read for awhile. This morning I focused on the opening chapters of Proverbs, bearing in mind that the Sunday talk shows are featuring a number of elected Washington officials whose only manifestations of “wisdom” appear in dodging straightforward questions of what contributed to our current demise, and what should be an appropriate response.

As stated before, my blog is not intended to be a political forum, so I will only say that my morning so far has been divided between studying and painting. As for studying, I am devoting some time to unpack the text from Proverbs, looking at some key words beneath our English translation (learning, understanding, interpretation, dark sayings). I’m fortunate still to have a copy of the Latin Vulgate and Septuagint (Greek translation of the Old Testament) and have enjoyed perusing the languages.

This painting found a home quickly

I began an ended the above painting yesterday, and by nightfall it had sold. As I had said before, I tried this composition three years ago and the picture sold before I could really study it. Now that this one is leaving, I’ve decided to lay out five more compositions of the same size (8 x 10″) so I can continue to experiment and find a way to solve my issues of snowscapes and the multiple green tints I experience when viewing cedars and various evergreens. I find a real joy in exploring this composition and hope to share good ideas in future posts as I move ahead with these.

Preparing to make five more . . .

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.

A Brighter Morning

January 9, 2021
Paddington just keeps growing and stretching

Brethren preached separation from worldly pleasures, but my mother laughed at comedians, particularly Gracie Allen, who said, “My mind is so fast, sometimes I say something before I even think it.”

Garrison Keillor, That Time of Year: A Minnesota Life

This morning was brighter, filled with more color, than the past two days. Sipping coffee before the fireplace, reading more of Garrison Keillor, dog snuggled under the blanket with me–yes, a much warmer morning. Entering Studio Eidolons a few hours later, I found Baby Paddington looking not so much as a baby anymore. He seems to stretch halfway across the room now when he’s looking for something beneath the tree. We’ve decided to let the tree remain through January, since we spent so little time in the house with the Christmas decorations in place. Now we can enjoy them for a few more weeks without departure interruptions.

. . . painters must devote themselves entirely to the study of nature and try to produce pictures which are an instruction. Talks on art are almost useless. . . . Literature expresses itself by abstractions, whereas painting by means of drawing and colour gives concrete shape to sensations and perceptions.

Paul Cezanne, letter to painter friend Emile Bernard

Today I have worked further on this 8 x 10″ watercolor sketch of winter trees I photographed in St. Louis when we visited during Christmas 2017. I painted them once before, and sold the piece before I was emotionally detached from it. That happens sometimes. For three years, the image has continued to burn on my retina, so I researched the files in my smart phone to find the photo and give it another crack.

Having stripped away the masquing, the snow seems to be showing up OK now. I have just barely begun to place the dead tree branches into the gaps on the left side of the composition. This is going to take considerable time as I’m spending more time enlarging the photo on a flatscreen TV and working on the nuances of the branches (color, thickness, direction of movement, density, and so on). I’m still trying to find the recipe for the neutral coloring of the trunks and branches as well.

Yesterday I struggled with a problem that Cezanne expressed in his writings, namely that the difficulty in painting a cluster of trees was separating out all the shades and tints of green so the painting doesn’t become dull and monotonous. I haven’t solved that problem to my satisfaction, but I think the painting is OK so far. Today I struggle with the Cezanne quote posted above concerning the relationship of literature and visual art. Last month, I had an engaging conversation over dinner in St. Louis with my high school friend Clarry Hubbard, a retired journalist. He expressed how he continually wrestles with visual images as he writes, and I countered with my own struggles, attempting to express visually the literature I read and hear. Soon, I hope I can find a way to write more lucidly about what I am trying to do with brush and paper. In the meantime, I echo Gracie Allen’s sentiments: “My mind is so fast, sometimes I say something before I even think it.”

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 Bliss

November 24, 2019

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Beginning of an Evergreen Snowscape, 14h x 16w” watercolor

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.

But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.

And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.

The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.

Psalm 1:1-4 (King James Version)

Decades ago, while serving in the Protestant pastoral ministry, this passage took deep root within me, and the words I still recite by heart, though my application of the message is not the same as orthodox churchmen would generally apply. While working on this snow scene in The Gallery at Redlands this quiet Sunday morning, these words come back to me, and I feel the impulse to unpack them the way they speak to me in recent years:

This is how I paraphrase–Serene is the one who doesn’t waste time listening to cable news or responding to social media chatter. His serenity resides in the beauty of an artful world, and in that splendor, s/he meditates day and night. And this one will be like a tree planted beside still waters, sending roots down deep. The quiet one’s works will flourish. As for the social media obsessives–they are driven by winds of social change, with no root and no fruit. Their days shall be spastic and their joys fleeting.

This morning, I am grateful for life, for strength, and the ability to respond to beautiful sights surrounding me and quality thoughts penetrating my consciousness. Soon, Cindy and Gary will arrive and I am so looking forward to spending a couple of days with them, working on this film documentary.

Thanks for reading.

Shultz reduced

I make art in order to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.

The Bowery Bum

March 17, 2019

Why, I just shake the buildings out of my sleeves.

Frank Lloyd Wright

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8 x 10″ watercolor sketch of Archer City–$75 in white 11 x 14″ mat

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8 x 10″ watercolor sketch of Missouri snow scene–$60 in white 11 x 14″ mat

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8 x 10″ watercolor sketch of Palo Duro Canyon–$80 in white 11 x 14″ mat

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8 x 10″ watercolor sketch of Missouri snow scene–$50 in white 11 x 14″ mat

Years ago, at the close of a state convention (the Texas Council of Teachers of English), several of us were sitting in the Dallas convention hotel lobby. I was in my second year of teaching, and felt energized after two days of sessions. As we sat in silence, soaking the afterglow of the event, one of the “more seasoned” teachers remarked: “At the close of these things, I often feel like a Bowery bum with an empty bottle.” We all laughed at the brilliant, poetic analogy, and I then wondered to myself: “Will I one day know that kind of weariness?” What a dumb question, I now realize three decades later.

The past forty-eight hours were the kind that used to energize me, but now I know the sentiments of that seasoned English teacher. For a few weeks, we advertised a beginning watercolor workshop that I would hold in the lobby of our Redlands Hotel. We decided we would limit the session to twenty applicants, but before we knew it, twenty-eight had thrown hats into the ring, so I decided to add a second session immediately following the first. By the time the day arrived, we had nineteen committed to the morning event, and fourteen for the afternoon. Setting up the lobby for the event proved to be exhausting, and I was glad we did that the day before. Nevertheless, the evening before the event, I knocked out a pair of watercolor samples of what we would attempt (and found neither of them satisfactory). Then, at the two workshops, I did a second pair as a live demo, one for each session, and found little satisfaction with both of those. Nevertheless, the participants were enthusiastic beyond description, and today I am still warmed at their remarks and sentiments throughout the day.  I couldn’t have asked for more eager and focused participation, and I can proudly say that the students’ attempts were all better than mine! So I can at least take pride knowing there was quality art created throughout the day.

By the end of the second session, I barely knew my own name, and understood the Bowery bum analogy–I certainly lack the energy I knew in earlier days. Going upstairs to bed (the Redlands Hotel is a beautiful place to reside!), I turned off my phone, vowing to sleep from 9:00 till sometime the following afternoon. But by 8:30 this morning, after waking a dozen times and feeling that it was nearly noon, I decided I had had sufficient rest for the new day. My plan was to do nothing all day but read. That didn’t happen. By the time I had finished my coffee and read about twenty more pages from the N. C. Wyeth biography, the itch returned to go back downstairs and open the gallery.

Once inside the gallery, I matted and sleeved five watercolors that needed presenting–four of them completed over the past couple of weeks (No, I will not mat the four demos I worked on the past couple of days!). The N. C. Wyeth biography, along with the affirming remarks I heard all day yesterday among the workshop participants, inspired me to go to work on a fifth attempt of what we painted in yesterday’s workshop and see if I can turn out a decent painting of the subject. I posted the Frank Lloyd Wright quote above, because when I crank out several paintings at a time I am reminded of how prolific he was as an architect late in life, and hope that I will be able to keep up that kind of production and enthusiasm.

It is Sunday, and I expected to see no one in the gallery today. Sundays are very quiet in downtown Palestine, and the weather is gorgeous today, inviting people to flock to the lake. But surprisingly, in the first 45 minutes, three people have already come in to browse and chat, so I guess I figured that one wrong.

At any rate, it feels great to be painting again, and if I can turn out a decent effort this time, I’ll post it for you to see.

Thanks for reading.

I make art to discover.

I journal when I feel alone.

I blog to remind myself I am not alone.