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.
Time For Answers
Posted on June 5, 2021 by j.g.lewis
Leave a comment
There is a tree on the highway between Brandon and Winnipeg, one I have passed
hundreds of times, which marks the halfway point of the journey.
Roots deep and strong, the tree has been there my whole life, surviving deep-freeze
winters, occasional drought, and the widening of the highway. It is an important tree,
familiar to anybody who grew up in the area. Mention “the tree” and people immediately
know where you were.
The landmark helped answer the ‘how much farther’ question from a restless kid in the
back of a sweltering station wagon, and came in handy on any of the bloodshot drives
across the barren prairies at 4 a.m., winter or summer.
The tree is a part of me, even now, if only in memory.
It’s too bad there aren’t more trees in our lives, markers to let us know something is
halfway done. Yes, we have battery meters that let us know when our laptop or personal
device is running low, gas gauges in the car, and clocks and calendars, but we need more
organic clues to help us navigate this journey.
Don’t we often question if the glass is half empty, or half full?
We tend to do things differently when we get onto the second half of anything.. Knowing
there is only one more lap around the track, we naturally pick up the pace to put in our
best performance? If we are caught up in a particularly enjoyable evening, don’t we tend
to ease up a little at the halfway point, trying to stretch out the pleasure to avoid the
inevitable?
There can be increased optimism if something is nearly done, or added sadness because
time is expiring. If we don’t know where we are, how can we know how to react?
June is, for all intents and purposes, the halfway point of the year. By its very nature it is
a wonderful month for reminding us where we have been, and what we have done, while
still allowing time to look ahead at the possibilities. Summer comes with June; and color,
and optimism. Longer days allow a review of the grief and glory we have experienced,
and provide increased light to renew your intentions and review your values.
This month is a pulse check. How is your heart beating? What remains unfinished, what
is still undone, what more can you do? How will you do it? Should you even bother? Of
course there are more questions, but there is still time for answers.
© 2016 j.g. lewis
