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 August 3, 2020 by j.g.lewis
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I’ve been feeling lost lately.
It could be the collective self-isolation that began months ago, and then progressed week after week. Perhaps it is this ever-present dysthymia that has settled around all of us like volcanic ash after an eruption.
Who can say they haven’t felt a lack of human touch as the distancing became more than physical?
My attitude, I know, is not the only thing affected by negative news of our current pandemic and this general loss of hope.
Last month, as I was visiting the Art Gallery of Ontario after it had just reopened to the public, I found again a glimpse of comfort as I wandered the space in awe (as always) of the magnificent works on the walls or in the corridors.
It was heart-warming to see people (yes, in limited, controlled numbers and always six feet apart) out and about and taking in art.
I went back to the gallery later in the week, and then the week following just to get this feeling again.
Art is my comfort zone; any art.
I realized, while at the AGO, how little of my own art I had created lately.
Yes, I’ve pissed around with some poetry, and I kept up with the daily contributions to this website, but I had not felt like digging deep into my creativity for a while.
I’ve got a few manuscripts in several states of undress; one of them (I’m most certain) is complete but in need of a final read-through. Sometimes you need to give it a break, or some space to breathe, before you go back in and actually label it ‘complete’.
I’ve given this one a bit too much time, I know.
I haven’t been feeling it.
I knew I needed the muse to grab me by the ear and pull me back in, or give me a solid kick in the ass to get me going. Again.
I decided, right then at the gallery, that I needed to motivate myself and set about creating a plan for August to settle into art and pull myself back to the land of the living.
Art can do that. I just wasn’t allowing art to do it to me.
So beginning August 1 (which already feels like weeks ago), I began taking my camera with me on my warning wanders through this city. I also, on that day, as soon as I woke, sat down with a brand new notebook and wrote for 30 minutes straight (at least), just how I used to do back in the original days, six years ago, when a group of humble souls from across this planet gathered together online for 30 days of writing.
I needed to push myself.
In the past couple of days, I’ve regained familiarity with my camera and lenses. I have pulled out my paints and amused myself with colour and composition.
I mindfully began creating art without judgment, and intend to do so for the remainder of the month. Of course I will go beyond the 31 of days August (or I feel, right now, that I will) but I’m only thinking of the present at the moment and plan on ignoring everything else that is going on around me as I immerse myself in art.
It may seem selfish, I know, but I’m calling it self-care.
I’ve got art to create and to see.
I’ve got reading to do, a life to revisit, and a person to be.
I need art not to complete me, but to be the complete “me”.
08/03/2020 j.g.l.
