Uncertainty can often
blur your surroundings.
The map is always there,
the lines signify the path
you need to follow.
You simply have to find
It is all in your hands.
© 2017 j.g. lewis
original content and images ©j.g. lewis
A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking. They may get you thinking too . . .
There is very little that can be said about Eric Clapton that hasn’t already been said; except I saw him last night.
I’ve been listening to the musician, in all stages of his career, over the past five decades and he has been around even longer than that.
Through the years I’ve grown to appreciate Clapton more as a performer, recording artist, and as one of the greatest guitarists of all time, but I’ve never seen him live; until last night.
He was everything (and more) that I expected, playing selections from his lengthy career, and paying homage not only the blues artists who have influenced him but also to friends no longer with us.
Clapton and his band kicked of the Toronto concert with a cover of The Band’s The Shape I’m in, a fitting tribute to his longtime Canadian friend Robbie Robertson. Then, later, a tune he once recorded with Tina Turner: Tearing Us Apart.
The show was filled with both popular hits and selections you could tell he felt like playing. With a catalogue like Clapton’s there could have been even more hits, but he did what he had to do.
At age 79, Clapton’s seemingly effortless prowess on electric and acoustic guitar was both mature and effective. There were a lot of “wow” moments.
It was quite an evening.
What else can I say?
I'm like a pencil;
Still I write.
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
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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.
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.
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