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 July 20, 2020 by j.g.lewis
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I went to the gallery last week, a pleasure I have been denied for months.
I’m a fairly frequent visitor to the Art Gallery of Ontario; the last time I went to the AGO was February, before COVID-19 shut everything down.
When the gallery announced it was reopening, I booked a ticket, agreeing to the accepted COVID practices: face masks, social distancing and limited numbers.
My primary interest was seeing some of The Group of Seven work from the permanent collection. The 100th anniversary of the group’s first exhibition could not be properly acknowledged in May because of the COVID closure. For months I’ve been feeling that I I’ve been missing out.
We’ve all missed out on something over the past few months, many of us have been unable to attend events far more important than visiting a gallery.
But visiting an art gallery was a slight return to normal for me; something I enjoy, something I appreciate, something I do fairly often.
After The Group of Seven, I simply wandered through much of the gallery. At one point I took out my notebook and just sat in the beautiful building and wrote about how sad it was that this gallery, and so many others, was locked up for months.
Even resting on a flat wall, behind closed doors, art is active.
Art is there to inspire, to soothe and to bring a bit of joy to our complicated lives.
Art is never passive, it always displays a fragment of what life meant at the time.
Art is a reflection; art will show you sorrows and celebrate the soul or the city.
Without boasting, art proudly reflects not only what should be celebrated at the time, but also what should forever be celebrated.
I spent a couple of hours at the AGO last Thursday but I didn’t see all I needed to see, so I went back on Saturday.
You can never see too much art.
07/20/2020 j.g.l.
