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.
implicitly evident
Posted on May 8, 2024 by j.g.lewis
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Was it a month ago we all seemed to take the time to notice a temporary change in our environment?
A mystery to many, a greater spectacle to some — depending on where in the world you were situated — most of us went out to watch the total eclipse, as daylight faded to night in the middle of the afternoon.
It was simply stunning.
We felt it, almost more than we saw it
A once-in-a-lifetime experience I have, so far, managed to take in twice; decades apart.
The wonder of it all still sits with me. Will I feel it again in my tenure on this earth?
I didn’t bother making the trip to nearby Niagara Falls, considered to be the ultimate spot to spend the much-heralded three minutes or so. Thousands of sky-watchers from all over the globe made the journey to the city on Canada’s border with the United States to take in the magical occurrence, just as they did in 1979 when I had my first total eclipse experience in my hometown of Brandon Manitoba.
This time I chose to stay near my current home in Toronto. It was close enough for me. While the effect was not full, it was intensely satisfying.
What became implicitly evident to me in the hours and days afterward is that people noticed, for a short time, the natural wonder occurring right above them. Many of us took out our cameras; even more purchased those special protective eye shields that allowed them to safely see what was going on; it was that important to them.
I am still wondering why we don’t do it more often.
Yes, an actual total eclipse is rare and bewildering, but why don’t we look up more often?
Why does it take a “special event”?
Why can’t we just be aware more often of what is above us?
Really. Each night, stars or not, there is something up there to capture the imagination. It might be one of the glimmering constellations you discovered as a child. Sometimes it is a full moon (the next one happens in 15 days) but even in the few nights that follow we are allowed an extravagant glimpse of Luna; a delight in any phase.
Earlier in the days there are clouds, gentle wisps of inspiration, incandescent at sunrise and sunset, or brooding with turmoil as coming rains manifest right before our eyes.
I always take time to notice the clouds, always in awe of the songs they sing and the shadows they cast. I have to, they are right above me, day and night.
Some days are more colourful or spectacular than others, but that’s life. Isn’t it?
Instead, all too often, we are all caught up in earthly concerns: troubles at the office, the rising costs of gas and grub, the politics of it all and the protests of many.
Can’t we give our eyes and minds a break from it all and look up in mindful meditation even for a moment or two, relieving our soul of the inconveniences we might be experiencing or drama we are currently ensconced in?
Look up, look ahead, and look around.
See what is there and, if you can, feel what it means to you.
It is usually quite humbling.
For your own good, take the time to notice.
© 2024 j.g. lewis
