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.
The Obscenity Of Silence
Posted on November 13, 2021 by j.g.lewis
// 2 Comments
What happens to the sleep we didn’t get,
words we did not heed, or tears never allowed
to travel down our cheek?
Those weeks, or months,
you refuse to speak of; what happened?
Then.
What became
of the people we didn’t need, or like,
or replaced? Have you given any thought to
what you meant to them? Once upon a time
fairy tale or delusion.
Shared.
Then, remember
the personalities or prospects,
the ones where you didn’t have the self-respect
to introduce yourself to.
Where was your confidence,
or willingness to bare your soul?
Easier, is it not, to confide in a stranger?
Those familiar with your ways,
those who have read a few chapters of your story
may not understand
your reservation.
Someone back when
knew you well, wanted to know more,
then gave up.
Or was that you?
Emotions enrich our lives,
as easily as they can destroy
all we stay alive for.
Is that a reason to hold back?
There was once value in vulnerability.
Now; well, you know.
If you rephrase the question,
are the answers still the same?
Long past a series of coincidences,
the obscenity of silence remains.
© 2018 j.g. lewis
2 replies on “The Obscenity Of Silence”
Powerful. Resonating deeply.
thank you