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.
It Goes Without Saying
Posted on July 15, 2023 by j.g.lewis
Leave a comment
Often, occasionally, sporadically,
even spontaneously,
I make mistakes.
They happen naturally:
a missed word or apostrophe,
my mind gets moving and
I fail to see the errs of my ways,
or errors throughout the day.
It is, or was, or has been
when I write or what I say.
Incidentally or accidentally,
it goes without saying,
but the fact remains
I make mistakes.
Every day.
We learn from our mishaps, or
should anyway, we try to
improve and continue
to count the ways. What we do
and how we behave
counts for a lot.
My eraser rubbed raw
by attempts and change,
I continue to make mistakes.
Forgive me please when
my thoughts go amiss, and
remember I am human amidst
this confusion or corruption
we all experience.
I make mistakes,
I may fail or fall,
yet remain myself, flaws and all.
© 2018 j.g. lewis
