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.
Mondays are just young Fridays
Posted on June 8, 2020 by j.g.lewis
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I had to get across town last week to pick up pencils. It was a gorgeous day and I was in no hurry, so I took my bike.
With no set route, and plenty of time, I zigzagged my way past a few points of interest, enjoyed this city’s expanded bicycle lanes, and stopped for coffee at a place I’d never been to.
You notice more on a bike.
On a bicycle you are right there, on the street; you are physically in control of your speed and more emotionally aware of your journey. It becomes an adventure. Much like Hemingway said, it is on a bicycle that you best learn a country.
While riding last Wednesday, I noticed a book and record store I had never seen before on a street I rarely use. Of course I went in. I found a particularly good Small Faces album in particularly good shape, and a Philip Glass recording I never realized I needed. She Said Boom had great prices, a deep selection, and well-organized bins. I also found a reason to ride back last Saturday, and I even took a different route.
The thing is, had I taken my car (or transit) I probably would not have noticed this store. Had I not been on my bike, the direction of my day would have taken a different path.
Who knows where I would have gone, how I would have arrived, or what I would have missed?
“It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you, and you have no such accurate remembrance of country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle.”
-Ernest Hemingway
06/08/2020 j.g.l.
