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.
Posted on July 22, 2016 by j.g.lewis
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I could write about
my buoyant mood
or fluctuating state
of optimism. My
will and my wishes
could easily show a
plan or a goal, or
even inner vision.
Yesterday’s gentle
memories or today’s
unattributed sense
of satisfaction, are
considerable enough
to allow the pencil
some action. I could
think of those things,
and cherish them all,
but in simpler form
a flower says it all.
j.g.l.
À la nuit
Luna radiates stardust and
wonder, sharing the bounty.
Her light bleeds her life
into the leaves and beings,
nourishing all things beneath
her aura. Comfort and peace.
Like a mother. À la nuit.
Through the stillness the
cycle of night continues.
Another phase, full at
this time, intensity shines
on all you wish to see.
All those who feel.
Like a child. À la nuit.
Changes soon, another cycle.
The light will fade, but not
the radiance. Or love.
© 2010 j.g. lewis
Mondays are just young Fridays
It’s after the rain, when
the temperature dips
and the raging humidity
slips away, if only for
an hour or two.
The storm has passed
and, for a while, your
troubles have dissipated.
You can breathe.
Even the wet cement
of the city smells sweet
and fresh. Nourished
by the scent of memory,
fulfilled by a sense of hope,
for an hour or two
everything seems alright.
You want to send this
feeling out to those you
care for to remind them
all is good, after the rain.
j.g.l.
