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.
Knowing The Unknown
Posted on May 26, 2021 by j.g.lewis
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When does patience turn to procrastination?
For weeks now (almost) I have been plotting a painting onto a canvas. Thoughtfully, decisively, carefully, consciously, marking each line. Deliberately.
It is a large canvas. It had to be; this is a big project.
I have not painted in oils for decades. I’ve thought about it (a lot), and this pandemic seemed to provide opportunity, or an outlet, to make it happen.
I was slow getting started, but 12 days ago I finally began taking the design from my head and mapping it out.
I was incrementally inspired.
I am now at the point — actually, I am hesitating — where I need to mix my medium, take up my brush and begin to apply colour to the canvas.
But really, for days now, I stare at the lines on the white surface and I see what it could be, but only in my mind.
Is this now a mental block?
Like the lines on the surface, I am at the intersection of design, desire, and fear.
That’s it: fear.
It is not fear of starting (because, technically, I have begun) but there is the fear of this not looking as I imagined it would look.
Exactly.
Can I be that exacting? Will this work live up to my expectations or will it be even better than I imagined?
There is that doubt.
Right now, I can only know the unknown. That invokes this fear.
This is how I struggle, linearly, creatively, even spiritually, when I take on any artistic project.
Hesitation.
I keep talking myself out of the next step. Is it lack of confidence; or is it lack of control?
I have come to know myself. I know, knowing myself, that the moment I mix the paint, the moment I apply some life to the canvas, what has only been a project will become an obsession. It is the way I am with all things creative.
I know, or I feel, the initial underpainting will pull me in.
If I — and I will — take the next step, will it take me further from, or closer to the realization that I am an artist?
If it takes time, that time is now. Today.
© 2021 j.g. lewis
