What shows
how little
we know?
What can be is
oft far less than
what we expect.
What is now
has never been
what it was.
07/25/2024 j.g.l.
value beyond
Simplicity.
Is there emotion in austerity?
Humanity?
What do you see when attempting
to define your limited visibility?
Minimalism, abstract impressionism
or incorporeal thought.
Less is more, but is it enough?
Texture, tone, and value beyond
your current scene. If you take it to an
extreme, you will question
what it means.
What is really there?
What line do you cross?
Can simplicity be complicated, or
should it even be attempted?
07/23/2024 j.g.l.
Mondays are just young Fridays
Things will not go as planned. Intentions will be disrupted, even overlooked, in the aftermath of an unexpected reality.
Where you are headed will not be the place you end up, undoubtedly or undeniably. No matter how hard you attempt to make each gesture, brushstroke, promise, prayer, or pastime as perfect as you believe it can be, many times you will not arrive at a perceived destination. All too often your endeavors never hit the mark; at times your work may be better than expected (celebrate those moments), but everything (even your judgement) is subjective.
You are not limited to, or by, the colours in your paintbox or progression of your process.
Imagination is as limited or expansive as you want it to be. Give it time to blossom; in certain instances, you may even have to reel it in. This is all about possibilities, no matter which media, method, or style you are beholden to.
You owe your art (or life) nothing but your presence; the value comes from the practice, as rudimentary or spontaneous as it is or will become.
07/22/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
April is Poetry Month
Posted on April 26, 2015 by j.g.lewis
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At The Time
She, she might not even notice
the beauty she hosts. She
is too busy,
caring, shouldering
responsibilities
others
are less bothered with.
She says she is lost
I am lost too.
It may not be
the same kind
of lost
or we may
show it or feel it
differently
after all, she is a She and I am a He.
She may not even know, in fact
might not care,
that I
know, her beauty.
I’ve not said it, not in the way
she needs to hear,
the way she needs to be seen.
I said I am empty. It’s not the kind
of empty,
the one devoid
of anything substantial,
but it is an empty
that means there is space
to fill.
I didn’t say it.
I didn’t say it
because I am a He and she is a She
and
we might have tried, but I didn’t enough
and God, she was brave and I
was unknowing and honest,
and frightened.
Yes, I was scared (but I didn’t say that)
and rather than say
I just let it go away.
Because she was that She, and I
didn’t wish to be
just another He.
I knew
she deserved more
than ever I could offer,
at least then, and I didn’t say enough.
At the time.
We all are
fighting time.
She questions her age, and I doubt mine too
and
she doesn’t know her beauty
but I certainly do,
So, seven days before I leave
we spent an evening
reading poetry
talking
taking the time.
Still I didn’t say it, because
she was She,
and I
was just me.
©2015 j.g. lewis
