Shamlessly Cropped

Flower fall.

Daffodil leaves and azalea.

Snapshots

Pansies I described a few days back...



Our dogwood.

Springtime Suburbia (Sienna)

quote of the day ("...that the moment one definitely commits oneself, the providence moves too.")

Given this quote to read -

W. H. Murray in The Scottish Himalaya Expedition, 1951. There the text apparently goes:

'But when I said that nothing had been done I erred in one important matter. We had definitely committed ourselves and were halfway out of our ruts. We had put down our passage money--booked a sailing to Bombay. This may sound too simple, but is great in consequence. Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, the providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets:

Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!'

Tale of two paintings

Same image - computer manipulated photo of three sisters when younger. Eight and by ten size prints on C photo paper. The first one I started on I used a light touch and then I went past margins with the paint (tactical error) and so to save it the pic got heavy and then heavier . Meaning more paint and less of original image. A vicious cycle not unlike lust. Sometimes whatever you do just drags you down deeper.

So the first pic was heavy and I did a lighter one and stayed light and within the frame and then somehow I pulled it out and the pic is so magical I cannot give it away. It is a sort of template. Balance between transformed pic and the paint. Magical.

So for two days I have been trying to save heavier pic and everything I did made it worse, then better, then worse. Like a bad roller coaster ride. I know sometimes it get really bad and then you pull it out - like delivering a baby.

So I am working and my wife says - that is horrible, throw it out and I am like thinking - thanks for the vote of confidence. So she makes me work harder not to destroy but to remove or blunt many elements and suddenly it pops out....slow motion like a car crash (all senses alive) nicely. So quick yest so slow.

The high point of my day. I look at it and melt. It is good, which makes me want to laugh (not because funny, but because I am charmed).

It is this feeling as much as anything that makes me crave to create. All day I did mundane things like clip hedges,m take trash to the dump but what I was going to do to the pic was always on my mind....

But I like the second one with a light touch even better. The one I would keep.

For You

I read a review of Springsteen in Rolling Stone and bought his first album when it came out. Paid less than four dollars for it. Long ago, I told my friends, two bands will make it big - Springsteen and Camel. Oh well - Camel. I have a number of versions of "For You" - starting with the first album but mostly bootleg versions off concerts.

It is a lovely song that always touches me. I lived and die by love songs. It is my Achilles heel and tendon, my everything.

FOR YOU

Princess cards she sends me with her regards
Whoa, barroom eyes shine vacancy, to see her you gotta look hard
Wounded deep in battle, I stand stuffed like some soldier undaunted
To her Cheshire smile, I'll stand on file, she's all I ever wanted
Oh, but you let your blue walls get in the way of these facts
Honey, get your carpetbaggers off my back
You wouldn't even give me time to cover my tracks
You said "Here's your mirror and your ball and jacks"
But they're not what I came for, and I'm sure you see that too

I came for you, for you, I came for you, but you did not need my urgency
I came for you, for you, I came for you, but your life was one long emergency
And your cloud line urges me, oh and my electric surges free

Whoa, crawl into my ambulance, your pulse is getting weak
Oh, reveal yourself all now to me girl while you've got the strength to speak
Cause they're waiting for you at Bellevue with their oxygen masks
But I could give it all to you now if only you could ask
Whoa, and don't call for your surgeon, even he says it's too late
It's not your lungs this time, it's your heart that holds your fate
Don't give me my money, honey, I don't want it back
You and your pony face and your union jack
Well take your local joker and teach him how to act
I swear I was never that way even when I really cracked
Didn't you think I knew that you were born with the power of a locomotive
Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound?
And your Chelsea suicide with no apparent motive
You could laugh and cry in a single sound
Alright

And your strength is devastating in the face of all these odds
Remember how I kept you waiting when it was my turn to be the god

You were not quite half so proud when I found you broken on the beach
Remember how I poured salt on your tongue and hung just out of reach
And the band they played the homecoming theme as I caressed your cheek
Yeah, that ragged, jagged melody she still clings to me like a leach
But that medal you wore on your chest always got in the way
Like a little girl with a trophy so soft to buy her way
We were both hitchhikers but you had your ear tuned to the roar
Of some metal-tempered engine on an alien, distant shore
So you, left to find a better reason than the one we were living for
And it's not that nursery mouth I came back for
It's not the way you're stretched out on the floor
Cause I've broken all your windows and I've rammed through all your doors
And who am I to ask you to lick my sores? And you should know that's true

I came for you, for you, I came for you, but you did not need my urgency
I came for you, for you, I came for you, but your life was one long emergency
And your cloud line urges me, oh and my electric surges free
Oooh
Ooh ooh

Spelling lesson

Long Island railroad had switch problems and getting home was frustratingly slow this Friday evening. Wish I had not forgotten my new book or bought 250 ml of a Cabernet. Listened to the New Pornographers on my iPod and they did not blow me away, old pornography apparently was (is?) more original and inspired.

Train finally moved and rolled. Friday was a hot day - first of the year, really. I so wanted it to be warm and now it is here. Smells like the beach and summer fashion is in full swing out there. I enjoy all the seasons, but tolerate winter the most. Spring and summer. Baseball and all things beautiful.

Worked late Thursday night on painting of the three sisters. Lot of image painted over. Looked promising. Finished it tonight and got up in the middle of the night to varnish it. Looks quite dashing. Hard to give it up.

Some paintings you do and do not mind when they are gone - like those done specifically for a gallery show. Others have a bit of our heart beat in them, or your tears, or your laughter, or your sleepy mind (as I feel at 4 AM as I write this).

My fingers are a bit sticky - the clear varnish does that to them. Yet, I enjoy the chemical smell and how my hands are slightly gummed by the varnishing process. Varnishing is like delivering the baby. Or like when a baby turns two months old and suddenly it smiles.

Once a pic is varnished colors pop out and it is like being young and in love.

Three day weekend. Looking forward to it. Manic male mockingbird is singing in triplets outside. Endless and rabid.

How do you spell insomnia?