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.
Perception Personified
Posted on February 24, 2021 by j.g.lewis
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The spontaneity of life’s
humanity deftly narrated
printed in his own words.
We can read not what was there
but what he saw.
Unlike those who came before.
Now another dead poet
amongst the others we know
those who breathe substance
onto the page
into the world
so generously documented for us.
He was an American
who travelled
‘dwelt in a hundred cities
where trees were books’
who wrote of the country he knew.
Its people occupied
streets beyond the periphery
of his soul.
Perception personified.
An autobiography,
he gave to us a focus
so we could feel
an America
more sharply delineated
than a history book
or with more colour than
the six o’clock news.
A parade ended Monday
but the beat lives on.
© 2021 j.g. lewis
“I see another war is coming
But I won’t be there to fight it.
I have read the writing
on the outhouse wall.
I helped Kilroy write it.”
Lawrence Ferlinghetti
1919 – 2021
Rest in peace
