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.
Home In A Van
Posted on October 15, 2021 by j.g.lewis
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by Patricia Morgan
Home is movement of the heart
And a conversation with nature.
It’s the place of awe and wonder
At unseen connections
That brings all to a stop
For a moment.
Home is hearing what is
Whispered, trilled, whooshed, or trickled.
Hissed, soughed, or scratched…
When the roar of humanity is silenced.
It is the space that allows a deep exhale
And a settling of the bones,
The relaxation of the muscles to stay…
To stay here today. Tomorrow, maybe there.
Home is this song that has arrived
When the heart quiets
And a weaving of mind, body and spirit
Forms its own state, free
Of boundaries, barriers and walls,
And the perseveration of thoughts.
Home is a mobile tuning fork
In harmony with its surroundings,
Coming to rest in perfect attunement
With community
And nature
And heart
So perfectly
There’s no need to leave…
Until there is because
Home is movement.
Patricia Morgan has lived a migratory existence from Maryland to the South Pacific,
from Oregon to Costa Rica, and currently resides in Washington.
