A ramble which defies a title...

I sat down to write a post this morning, cause I had a few minutes before the sun rose, and my head is pretty clear, but then I realized I had nothing much to say...

Well, that's not exactly true, I have plenty to say, I just don't know how to say it in a manner that suits me or looks pleasing to my eye.

A thousand years ago in another lifetime, I had dreams of being a photo-journalist. Pictures that suggested the sublime buried in the ordinary and everyday, supported by short, pithy phrasing and words beneath them, like candles or torches illuminating hidden messages- picture/poems or poem/pictures or something else entirely. I actually made a good many, black and white photos taken on an antique camera, that I hand developed and printed in a little ghetto darkroom I built up from cast off, broken, found and repaired equipment. To this day I still dream of doing that.

More than that, these days I wonder how to recapture/revive that arrogance of youth, where nothing seemed impossible and that whether you "could" or not had no bearing on whether you "did" or not. Because in the end, the doing is what matters.

So, I write, I draw, I paint, I take pictures, I make videos, record sound, build odd little objects, make things out of clay, stack rocks...none of it matters much or is significant to anyone but me, which on the surface seems self-indulgent and maybe it is. But I need to do these things as much as I need to eat and sleep, and I'm a better person for it.

An artist friend/mentor came by to seem me yesterday at work. He's a story himself. I should tell it here someday (if I haven't already.) A well respected artist and teacher, but contrary to the accepted norm of his peer group, he's an inspiration. He defies categorization and this sometimes disturbs people (collectors, galleries, academics). He makes stuff according to his inclination at the time and has done so for over 30 years.. He has a fairly big studio, ceramics oriented, that served as a printmaking studio this fall and winter. Him: "I spent last week cleaning up my studio, moved everything either out, or up against the walls, I need the floorspace...you should come by..." Me: "done printing?" Him: "yeah, I'm going to start a painting series- 50 canvases, big, abstract" Me: "how big?" Him: "like 5 FEET by 8 FEET each..., that's why i needed to clean up, I need the floor space, I'll lay the canvases out on the floor, sit and middle of them, and work on them on the floor..."

This guy follows where his muse leads, and doesn't worry about it too much. He's content to DO. Is this something that is learned from experience? I don't know, but I plan to find out. So I'm going to take a walk, go to work, come home this evening and make up some poems, take some pictures, maybe draw and write or do any number of other things and not think or worry too much about it, and see what happens.

I guess I had something to say after all...