Archive for the ‘Nonfiction’ Category
Monday, July 2nd, 2007
When Cheryl Truman of the Lexington Herald-Leader published her ten all-time favorite books and invited readers to submit their lists, it got me contemplating my bookshelf. It makes for tough culling, like picking your favorite foods or motion pictures, but it was an interesting activity for me, and—surprise—she included my choices in the ARTS & LIFE section on June 24th. (The lists were originally available at Kentucky.com for a time, but now one has to pay to see the archives.)
Unfortunately, there always seems to be a sour note in these things, and somebody took it upon himself to cite the wrong translation of the I Ching. It may not seem like a big deal, but I’ve never heard of Brian Browne Walker, and I’m not at all convinced his name deserves to appear in this context. I made plain to Ms Truman that the Wilhelm-Baynes translation is my preference. I’ve never seen another to compare, and it’s a big deal to me, because there have been far too many mediocre, commercially oriented versions of this classic of Chinese thought. Thank Goodness we have English as our native tongue, so we don’t have to face sorting out the various translations of Shakespeare or Emerson. Think about it. That’s why correctly making the Wilhelm-Baynes distinction is a BIG deal. You might ask yourself, is Shakespeare worth reading, except in English? Well, sure—that would be like saying one must learn Greek to read The Odyssey. One doesn’t, of course, because there was a Robert Fitzgerald. That’s why getting the Wilhelm-Baynes thing right is a FREAKIN’ HUGE deal!
The Creative Habit
Twyla Tharp’s thoughtful guide to artistic traction is the most practical book on creativity that I’ve yet encountered. The acclaimed choreographer reaches beyond her own craft to provide powerful keys to any dedicated artist.
Harlan Hubbard: Life and Work
Wendell Berry’s biography of the legendary individualist reveals much about himself, and therefore it offers penetrating insights for two of Kentucky’s most extraordinary artistic pioneers. This “double treasure” has made it one of my favorite companions for contemplative moments.
Stand Before Your God
Although Paul Watkins is clearly one of the most gifted novelists of his generation, my favorite among his books is this memoir about coming of age in English boarding schools, a pearl of introspection in today’s miasma of literary narcissism.
Drawing Life: Surviving the Unabomber
I’ll admit that, for various reasons, I’ve wept at the end of other books, but relinquishing my connection to David Gelernter’s mind and heart was an intense, unprecedented experience.
Shogun
I understood more about Islam after reading Whirlwind than from any nonfiction book, but his skill as a storyteller is what continues to set James Clavell apart for me. His “Asian Saga” is the benchmark achievement by which any series of historical novels can be compared, and this massive narrative of 17th-century Japan is his masterpiece.
Huckleberry Finn
The legacy of controversy shrivels when laid against its core of creative genius. I remain astonished each time I realize that no American had ever written fiction so modern. But even if someone had, I think Mark Twain’s towering novel would still have the power to stagger my imagination.
Invisible Man
More than a riveting story and keen take on American society, I think Ralph Ellison’s masterwork is perhaps the most prophetic piece of fiction in the past sixty years.
The Conduct of Life
For any American, this collection of essays by Ralph Waldo Emerson is a rich vein of intellectual ore that’s impossible to exhaust.
I Ching or Book of Changes
Who can deny 3,000 years of Chinese wisdom? It may well be the most profound distillation of human perception that exists. The Wilhelm-Baynes translation is my favorite, and its foreword by Carl Jung is the best essay about the Book of Changes I’ve ever read.
The Holy Bible
Beyond any doubt, it enshrines the greatest and most meaningful stories in world literature.
• • • • • •
March 6, 2017 — I am adding q note today after reading this page again. It would be difficult to take Shogun out of my top ten, but I no longer would cite James Clavell as the gold standard for historical fiction. Patrick O’Brian has recently eclipse his status in my regard, and that is saying a lot.
Posted in Fiction, Nonfiction, Personalities, Scripture, Words | Comments Closed
Sunday, July 1st, 2007
— Month of June workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-11; Run-0; Lift-0; Yoga-0
— Easy to see that cycling is providing my only form of exercise these days, and I need to figure out what it will take to jump start my typical cross-training. In any case, I find myself thinking all the time about when I’ll saddle up for my next ride. In this part of the country, the lack of rain is creating a serious condition, but it’s made for some superb cycling weather this season, and I’m digging it. Speaking of digging, Marty and I removed another big section of old driveway at the Town House today and hauled it off in rusty Ned. I’m worn out, because six of us local cyclists went to Frankfort yesterday for the second annual Share the Road Ride and Rally. We completed a 53-mile loop through Woodford County, and the roads going in and out of Midway are the most scenic I’ve ever enjoyed on a bicycle. Talk about the heart of the Bluegrass! Just being there gave me the second wind I needed to log my new maximum single-ride mileage for the year (I’m ready for a 60-miler now). We arrived back at the Old Capitol in time for the noon rally. As the only Bike Commissioner there in riding attire, someone suggested I stand in front of a TV camera and say something. It was incoherent enough that I hope they never use it. As many know, I’m more of a rambler than a sound-bite guy when it comes to talking about “all things bicycle.”
— After a busy second quarter (with my solo exhibition, but on many levels), I’ve been looking forward to a “time out” over the next week or so. I need to be unavailable enough to get some things done that have been on the back-burner for way too long, such as finishing the reorganization of the conference room and popping the bonnet on my Mac G4 for a vital overhaul. This kind of a thing always sounds like a good idea until the target date is here. In my experience, clients are much better at taking a break than permitting us to do the same. We’ve wanted for some time to become “indispensable” again, so it will behoove us to stay accessible, but there are things I just have to do to prepare for when we are truly swamped again, and it’s only a matter of time. The Liberty/Casey account is picking up steam, the floodgate could open at any time with the new automotive client, and things are going well with the organic farm. The owners met with Whole Foods last week and picked up more orders for their organic meats, which triggers a need for new packaging graphics. The pendulum is swinging back for Dixon Design, and I must prepare our physical and virtual environment to cope with a heavier flow of business.
— Decades before the blogging culture became a fact of life, E. B. White wrote an introduction to a volume of his selected essays. For anyone who justifies writing words in a public log, his thoughts about the essayist are valuable reading. Most of us who carry on like this have no idea what we’re doing. White, by contrast, had no illusions about the nature of the format he mastered, and nearly all of us who excessively talk about ourselves in thousands of blogs (millions?) would benefit by taking his words to heart and by applying them to our peculiar practice.
The essayist is a self-liberated man, sustained by the childish belief that everything he thinks about, everything that happens to him, is of general interest… Only a person who is congenitally self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays… The essayist arises in the morning and, if he has work to do, selects his garb from an unusually extensive wardrobe: he can pull on any sort of shirt, be any sort of person, according to his mood or his subject matter—philosopher, scold, jester, raconteur, confidant, pundit, devil’s advocate, enthusiast… leave the essayist to ramble about, content with living a free life and enjoying the satisfactions of a somewhat undisciplined existence. (Dr. Johnson called the essay “an irregular, undigested piece”; this happy practitioner has no wish to quarrel with the good doctor’s characterization.) There is one thing the essayist cannot do, though—he cannot indulge himself in deceit or in concealment, for he will be found out in no time… the essayist’s escape from discipline is only a partial escape: the essay, although a relaxed form, imposes its own disciplines, raises its own problems, and these disciplines and problems soon become apparent and (we all hope) act as deterrent to anyone wielding a pen merely because he entertains random thoughts or is in a happy or wandering mood.
— Jennifer B has a squirrel in her knickers about an insignificant reunion of entertainers. Well, there’s only one significant reunion that could get me excited, because I’m old enough to remember the Original Spice Girl…
V & S
Posted in Art, Blogging, Business, Exercise, Family, Friends, Marty, Nonfiction, Personalities, Public Service, Studio, Television, Words | Comments Closed
Tuesday, June 19th, 2007
I’m no expert on numerology, but I’ve been studying the ancient discipline for nearly 30 years, and I’ve dedicated myself to helping Janet and Jerome make some decisions about naming the “bay-bo grils” who will be soon be under their loving guardianship. As Juno Jordan says, “All names are good names,” so it’s not a matter of making an error. At some level, all names are part of the divine order and help tell a living story of each unique soul. In the case of “Baby Molina,” the best way to look at it is the potential for harmony and enhanced opportunity—harmony of a conferred family name with the name given at birth, harmony with the character of her new parents, and the opportunity to reinforce God-given talents and her heart’s desire with a name that will be true to her real self.
This is not a trivial exercise. The new name can be a means or vehicle for greater usefulness, but will be of no active value without the true self “behind it,” and without a meaningful connection to the special role that is already ordained. In her landmark book, JJ tells of people who take a new name, who are not happy, and who feel an underlying uncertainty because they are aware at the soul level that it doesn’t reflect their true being. This insight is valuable to the objective of naming an adopted child, and could explain in part why some adopted individuals confront undue challenges in life. Maybe it has something to do with carrying a name that’s not in harmony with who they actually are. Another way to look at the endeavor is to avoid setting her up for unnecessary discomfort as she finds her path in life as an adopted child from a distant ethnic heritage growing up in Kentucky. From what I already perceive in her birth chart, she has many fine attributes and inner gifts that will serve her well in this regard. The proper “arranged name” can contribute even more to her opportunities for satisfaction and fulfillment.
Precious one, there is great love in store for you when you encounter your new mother and father, plus an entire Clan that stands behind them in support. And a new sister, too! What a year of profound blessings!
Posted in Family, Jerome, Nonfiction, Numbers, Psychology, Words | Comments Closed
Thursday, May 24th, 2007
Dana took Bruce to St. Joseph on Monday for surgery on his arm that would facilitate extended dialysis. Unfortunately, his potassium level was too high, so he stayed until the following day. He had two dialysis treatments (Monday/Tuesday), and then he was in shape to get the procedure. It was a blessing that the surgeon found a way to work on the problematic left side. Bruce had been very reluctant to condone any vascular manipulation of his good right arm.
We broke away from Danville to be with Bruce after his surgery, and then got the good news that he was being discharged. It was complicated for me, because I was trying to remotely handle authorization for necessary revisions to the Band Festival poster, and also make sure the proof got back to Louisville. After we left St. Joe, it was time to pay a visit to Mombo over at Central Baptist. Both Jeanne and Joan were there.
Joan had already told us about the setback on Monday when Mombo’s heart rhythm became erratic. Dr. Martin said it happens in 25% of cases. They put her back on an IV and stabilized with medication. According to Joan, “She got a pretty African violet plant from the Gels Family. Many friends and family members have been by to see her, and she has had some welcome phone calls. She has been pretty wheezy, so they took x-rays,” which indicated fluid in her left lung. My mom told Joan she can feel the power of the prayers on her behalf.
We had a nice visit, but this is the part of the saga when my awe of modern surgical technique collapses into misgivings about extended stays in the hospital environment. Having just read Gladwell’s chapter on the powerful influence of context, from The Tipping Point, didn’t calm my apprehension. She doesn’t seem to have any appetite for hospital food, and she’s struggling with the motivation to get out of bed and walk. Mombo needs adequate care in recovery, but I can’t help but wonder how much the simple fact of just being in a hospital room can adversely affect a patient’s sense of well-being and resistance to potential complications.
I want Mombo out of that place as soon as possible…
Posted in Angst, Dana, Family, Jeanne, Joan, Mombo, Nonfiction, Prayer, Psychology | Comments Closed
Wednesday, May 16th, 2007
Everything felt rotten today. Terie went to the ER with severe spinal pain, and Bruce almost ended up there, too. I was stressed out anyway, because I’ve been trying to get the Band Festival poster to the printer for the past three days. There were last-minute revisions to the sponsor list, plus I’ve had pressing commercial deadlines rubbing my nerves raw. A local reporter keeps calling about doing a feature on my painting, Spellbound By Brass. In a momentary lapse of discipline I say, “If I don’t get this poster right, there will be nothing to toot my horn about.”
Damn… tripped up again by an illusion of chaos and the sense of disorder. Ralph Waldo reminds me that, “There is no chance, and no anarchy, in the universe. All is system and gradation.” I must believe it’s true, even on days like today. I must have full faith in a divine order—the reality and foundation that underlies this “kingdom of illusions.” I must never think I’m too busy not to keep this reality before me, hour by hour. “Whatever games are played with us,” Emerson writes, “we must play no games with ourselves, but deal in our privacy with the last honesty and truth… and taste the real quality of existence, as in our employments, which only differ in the manipulations, but express the same laws; or in our thoughts, which wear no silks, and taste no ice-creams.” Why is it so difficult for me to “see God face to face every hour, and know the savor of Nature” when in the jaws of masticating days such as these—not on a day when it’s easy, but on a day when it matters?
This line of thinking takes me back to my birthday, flying from Dallas to Detroit, unable to pull my eyes away from the images far below my window’s point of view. I was expecting to review my notes from three days of high-intensity exposure to powerful speakers, significant motivators all, but I couldn’t ignore the sights under the speeding craft, the living plains and wooded river bottoms as we crossed the heart of my beloved motherland. I could see the hand of Nature in the centuries-old patterns of meandering watercourses and how the farmers had endeavored to exploit the riches of her fertile, changing designs—everywhere, the evidence of God’s magnificent Kosmos, and it caused my soul to sing. It triggered previous experiences of knowing what is real, in contrast to what I’ve conditioned myself over my life to think is real. I wanted to have that profound knowledge stay with me always, but I recognized it would pass, so I tried to hold on to one point of reality that might “stick” with me—that I am loved, that I can love in return, and that I can be in that reality no matter what is going on around me, no matter what conditions or circumstances challenge my thoughts or emotions. I wondered if I could hold on to that idea, and not fail to safeguard it, as Tolstoy’s Olenin had failed when he returned from nature to the Cossack village. And so I prayed, as I watched America sliding by, knowing there would be times like now, when my resilience to illusion would be shallow in the face of daily influences.
Posted in Angst, Fiction, Nature, Nonfiction, Prayer, Priorities, Terie, Words | Comments Closed
Saturday, May 12th, 2007
Back during the 70s when I worked in acrylics, I once made a painting called “Blur-Head.” It could be a symbol of my life in 2007. I try to compartmentalize, but everything is just shmooshed together, as each day tumbles into the next, filled with unmet requests and rapid-fire deadlines. I can’t complain. It’s a product of my own intent to be busy again.
Ian was in Danville for a spell, and we met him in the gallery at the Community Arts Center. The lad looks slim and trim, and I was glad to see him. He liked my show. He walked home with us and had a chance to say hello to Bruce before heading down to the farm. I may not get to see him again before he departs for a big island in the ocean. Be safe. Aloha.
I won’t say how long it’s been since I was on a bike that wasn’t meant to sit on a floor, but I finally joined friends for a Thursday night ride out past the Rick Dees estate. It was an incredible evening, although I gabbed so much I don’t think I fully appreciated being out there. That’s ok. It’s a start. I feel like I have to build my conditioning from scratch. How did that happen?
During the time I’ve been actively blogging—since January of 2005—it’s never been this much of a struggle to make a regular entry. Something about the little calendar in the other format helped prompt me, but it’s more than that. Blogging is effortless when you know what you think or feel. This spring I haven’t allowed the mind-time or heart-time to catch up with myself. Hopefully that will change as I adapt to this new rhythm of daily activity. Forgive me if my notes here become a bit “blurred.” If that’s the way my life is right now, perhaps I’ll have more to show for it than a journal. There’s a logic and purpose to what’s happening lately. My profile is being elevated on multiple fronts, all at the same time. I need to resist the tendency to seek validation by writing things in a log. On the other hand, life without introspection is an alien existence.
“Fate is a name for facts not yet passed under the fire of thought—for causes which are unpenetrated.” —Emerson
A new and satisfactory pattern will emerge.
Posted in Art, Blogging, Exercise, Family, Friends, Ian, Nonfiction, Studio, Words | Comments Closed
Tuesday, February 20th, 2007
Early childhood accumulation is the most authentic form of collecting—that first little box or drawer with trinkets to stimulate the bud of imagination. Certain special shards of quartz from your “rock store” just couldn’t be carelessly tossed back into the driveway gravel, could they? When it came to postcards or match-packs, adults would facilitate, but most likely it wasn’t their idea at the outset. Not all children collect, but for many of us, the desire was innate. What was it about that hoard of popsicle sticks or milk-jug caps that gave us a tingle of satisfaction? It was only a small step of forward progress to coins, stamps, baseball cards, books, antique tools, vintage toys, etcetera. Or was it the opposite of progress? Some types of collections made you feel “big,” but now I am, and everywhere in the world of grownups are admonishments to clean up the mess, downsize, and banish your clutter. I caught a few minutes of Dr. Phil the other day, apparently a whole program about the dysfunctional pack-rat, in which the message was unequivocal—needing to keep all that junk is the latest fear-based personality disorder.
Well, maybe it is, but I was happy to recently discover the other side of the spectrum with In Flagrante Collecto, Professor Marilynn Gelfman Karp’s fascinating, richly illustrated treatise on our essential impulse to acquire—the rare, the strange, the unsung, and the incidental. How, as a life-long collector, she’s found the ability to survey the topic with such intelligent objectivity is quite remarkable to me. She defines six shared traits among all collectors:
1) Unquestionable Dominion • the total mastery of your self-defined territory.
2) Hands-On Gratification • the satisfying communion with your booty.
3) Empowerment by Delimitation • the boundaries and criteria of allowable desire.
4) Hunting and Gathering • the fulfillment of discernment plus the exhilaration of the quest.
5) Possession • the self-affirming ownership of historical era by osmosis.
6) Husbanding and Transference of Characteristics • the salient attributes of the collection which accrue to the collector.
Her bottom-line assessment is that “loving the unloved is the purest state of collecting from which all collectors’ motives may be deduced. An object of material culture is any object that a person deems worthy of collecting.”
I suppose most of us who face piles of stuff fall somewhere in the middle of the continuum between connoisseur and cripple. So the question remains—what do I do with all of it? Much has no intrinsic value and begs to be pitched (if it isn’t actually begging, then my patient mate surely is). To me, it’s an archival record of what has appealed to heart, head, and hand throughout my life. Ah, precisely… there’s the source of its abiding interest to me. It represents the creative opportunity to organize, process, synthesize, repurpose, and present to others a “culminating artifact” that maybe, just maybe, will achieve some level of extrinsic value greater than its inherent nature as a sum of overlooked ingredient elements.
Will that make it art? It’s worth a try…
Olden…
Posted in Angst, Art, Creativity, Dana, Nonfiction, Personalities, Psychology | Comments Closed
Thursday, February 8th, 2007
Issues having to do with an outrageous astronaut meltdown, in addition to George Will’s recent article about Chicago, are stimulating my libertarian streak today. Is it possible that NASA officials are using scarce resources for a public relations effort to portray Captain Lisa Nowak as a sympathetic figure, in order to safeguard its own institutional image? If a Mayor Daley can begin turning over government assets to the free market, maybe it’s time we privatize the whole bloody space program and finally get on with it.
Consider this— If LBJ had farmed it all out to Walt Disney back when I was in junior high, do you think we’d still be fiddling around with obsolete launch vehicles and half-built orbital tin cans almost 40 years after we landed on the moon?
Posted in Current Events, Nonfiction, Personalities, Space, Technology | Comments Closed
Thursday, January 11th, 2007
As usual, I’m scratching along in my own analytical way, looking for “keys.” For me, that often involves attempts at integrating various “reality maps” I’ve encountered that make sense as individual systems. Numerology would be one example, but seems limited when I approach it in isolation. Feng Shui has appeal, but I haven’t totally bought into the premise. For a long time, Bruce has made references to Chinese medicine, but my investigation into Chinese thought has been confined to a study of the Book of Changes or I Ching.
Today I read a short magazine article by Mark Blessington. We must think along the same lines, because he’s made an impressive start at applying the principles of Chinese medicine to the relationships between money and people. There’s often a fine distinction between genuine insight and wacky diversion, I must admit, but I would say that Blessington’s ideas about achieving a balance in money elements deserves the benefit of the doubt.
And so we press on with our attempts to synthesize the unbridgeable gaps of knowledge and to learn the unknowable truths, like why you can’t find a missing object until you tell somebody else that you lost it. We’ll continue to look for the profound answers that elude us all, to understand why time always speeds up every Thursday night during NBC’s telecast of “The Office,” and to solve the many riddles of a mysterious universe.
Posted in Family, Nonfiction, Numbers, Personalities, Television, Time | Comments Closed
Tuesday, January 9th, 2007
— If you like Howard Pyle, N.C. Wyeth, and the “Golden Age of American Illustration,” Paul Giambarba has put together a smashing collection of biographical notes, artistic comments, and rarely seen images. I just love this handsome stuff, and tip my hat to anyone who would spend the personal time to compile such an extensive reference site.
— I grabbed a few moments of “mind time” in Harrodsburg while Dana got a haircut, thinking LJS would be a relatively quiet place at that time of day, but the music was a bit more electric-70s than I was expecting. I still haven’t given up on achieving a new level of organization, and it’s that time of year anyway. Business development remains priority one. Nevertheless, I find myself pulled continuously in a different direction with so many art deadlines and volunteer responsibilities demanding my attention. I have another milestone facing me within a week as part of my contractual obligation to the Band Festival as 2007 featured artist. And I must make steady progress on preparations for a one-man show in May at the Community Arts Center. If I don’t find a way to more successfully block out my time, there are some intense experiences that I won’t be able to avoid this year. One good new client would take much of the heat off our situation, and that has to be my focus, one way or another.
— We had a full house at the B.I.K.E. meeting tonight, including our newly sworn-in mayor. It was an important kick-off for the year, a discussion of our first major proposal to the city for infrastructure enhancements and repairs. If I didn’t have so many experienced community leaders at the table, I think I’d probably spin my wheels a lot, but they have a way of making sure I keep getting the traction we need (I don’t know if that pun was intentional or not).
— Dana and I continue to chip away at our three hours of P.J. O’Rourke on tape. He says he dislikes memoirs, and so I can only assume he’s never read the extraordinary Paul Watkins book, Stand Before Your God. He really doesn’t like bloggers either. According to him it’s like “what I did last summer” for adults, and he seems to detest the whole phenomenon. As far as this blog goes, it appears we have an every-other-day pattern of entries developing and that suits me fine. It’s half the level of blogging I was doing a year ago, arguably a more reasonable pace for my current situation. If you desire more than that, dear reader, all I can say it this: you must have way too much time on your hands.
V & S
Posted in Art, Blogging, Business, Community, Dana, Nonfiction, Personalities, Studio | Comments Closed
Sunday, January 7th, 2007
Good Grief. I just read Keillor’s first syndicated column of the year. For somebody who got famous being humorous and touching at the same time, it’s painful to cringe through something with that much self-righteous venom. He’s far too good a writer to inflict that on a reader, but it was my choice to partake. It’s like deciding to sit in front of Meryl Streep and have her look directly at you and weep.
Looking for an antidote, I sat down to watch a few minutes of P.J. O’Rourke on “In Depth,” who was talking about how much writers dislike the act of writing. He said something very close to this: “No writer who I respect says they love the writing part. I suppose the only people who love writing are bloggers. Blogs are free—and worth it.”
Yow. One of those days. I’d better go accomplish something.
There you have it, Ian. You just got your money’s worth.
Posted in Blogging, Ian, Nonfiction, Personalities, Political Affairs, Television | Comments Closed
Saturday, September 23rd, 2006
“A designer knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.”
— Antoine de Saint-Exupery
With a strict focus on our most urgent priorities, I must temporarily devote myself to creating a stronger and more stable business posture.
Click the “Archives” and browse a few of my past entries— January 2005 to September 2006.
From time to time I’ll continue to record my thoughts in a private book, just as I have done since 1971, because I concur with Harlan Hubbard in that I have always kept a journal for “myself changed and at a later time,” and, to use his words again, I would hope that I can someday resume this log as “a kind of memorial to the passing days.”
Until then, please do a few things for me…
• Don’t neglect your creative self.
• Read any Paul Watkins book you can find.
• Ride a bicycle, just for fun.
• Visit Anacrusis, Monday through Friday.
• Treat your body as your best investment.
• Put in a good word for Dixon Design.
“The education of the will is the object of our existence.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Once a pirate, always a pirate.”
— Frank the Fisherman
Posted in Blogging, Business, Fiction, Nonfiction, Personalities, Pirates, Priorities, Studio, Words | Comments Closed
Monday, August 28th, 2006
Bruce spent most of the day resting. He wanted to leave for Indianapolis after tonight’s concert. Quite some time ago, as a 40th birthday present for her son, Dana got tickets for a rare Bruce Cockburn performance at the Kentucky Theatre. Lee and David decided to go, too, and the five of us drove to Lexington for dinner at Natasha’s before the show. We had a great meal and great seats. Bruce was clearly pleased with his gift. Early this morning on her way to work, Joan dropped off hers—an excellent copy of “Walden” that belonged to Joe Wood. At lunch, Bruce and I had a good talk about writing as a subtractive process, and the necessity of brutal self-editing (not unlike the practice of “design refinement” drilled into me as a university student). I’m finally beginning to fully appreciate Bruce’s artistic spirit. My anticipation for his creative output is a familiar craving with which I’ve learned to live. I respond to artists in one of three ways—indifference, inspiration, or demoralization. Although Bruce Cockburn’s sensibilities tend to fall a bit farther to the left than mine, he doesn’t fit the description of a stereotypical liberal musician. Experiencing his creative energy inspires me to my own art, and maybe that’s one more thing my son and I have come to share.
Posted in Art, Creativity, Dana, Family, Food, Friends, Joan, Music, Nonfiction, Personalities | Comments Closed
Saturday, August 26th, 2006
In Lexington this morning, a commuter jet crashed while trying to take off from the wrong runway, killing 49 of the 50 souls on board. I bicycled out to Shared Silence, and left for Kelley Ridge when I got home, to help Joan get her armoire to the upper floor. I didn’t find out about the accident until she told me. Jeffrey had to leave, but I stayed and had lunch with her, Caitlan, Josh, Pat, and Verla. Caitlan and I talked about her internship, and I also found out that Josh will be working full time as a screen printer for the 10th Planet. Joan sent me home with gifts, including Berry’s book on Harlan Hubbard and two of Joe’s old wooden boxes that will enable me to create assemblage under the influence of Joseph Cornell. She also loaned me a James McMullen book which totally throws open my thinking with respect to a concept for the Brass Band Festival poster. I worked outside when I got home, swept the driveway, and finished stacking my salvaged bricks. I got an email informing me that the son of a cycling pal (Martin V of Burgin) had died in a rock-climbing fall. I helped Dana finish her food preparations for Bruce’s visit, just as he arrived. It seemed so amazing to have him here after his first solo Interstate drive in a very long time. It was only a year ago that he was still in the thick of a battle against potentially deadly infections, so this marks another important milestone in his slow recovery. Jeannette and Ben stopped by to see him and have a bite to eat. Terie, Marty, Joan, and Caitlan paid him a visit, too. It’s been a happy evening, in a house not usually so full of life, but I’m acutely aware of the overwhelming sense of tragedy that so many other Central Kentucky families must be feeling tonight.
Posted in Art, Caitlan, Creativity, Current Events, Dana, Death, Family, Friends, Home, Jeffrey, Joan, Josh, Nonfiction, Personalities, Priorities, Terie | Comments Closed
Sunday, August 6th, 2006
Drove to Hot Springs yesterday via 25-E, which, during the daytime, is a much more pleasant route than the Interstate. It gave us an opportunity to locate the LMU campus and learn that it’s quite close to the Cumberland Gap tunnel. Much of the way I read to Dana from “Simple Loving,” a book that used to belong to Joan and Joe. By the time we arrived at Broadwing Farm, we were thinking sufficiently “outside the cube” to make our short breakout worth it, even if nothing comes of our appointment tomorrow. Bob and Carol had a delicious supper prepared and we talked until sleepiness held sway. Typically, we spent today in deep conversation, fueled by natural foods, fresh air, a majestic view, a run to the nearby coffee hangout, and a dip in the spring-fed pond. Carol turned us on to Sarah Susanka, Bob convinced me to start watching the series “Band of Brothers,” and Pete gave me some hemlock slabs from the sawmill for my woodcut experiments. The regional infestation has worsened to the point that he’s been forced to harvest a lot of hemlock from the forest, but the timber is being put to good use in building a horse stable and a third rental dwelling. This one will be called Cedar, and will surely add to the success of Poplar and Pine at Broadwing Natural Bath Cabins.
Posted in Art, Business, Family, Food, Joan, Nature, Nonfiction, Television | Comments Closed
Saturday, July 15th, 2006
Our Indianapolis arrival was behind schedule, but Dana, Marty, and I had a nice Mexican supper with Bruce. Said our goodbyes and headed north this morning, travelling through Ft. Wayne, which was much better driving than I-75. After a big delay in Lansing, getting groceries and trying to find the best route to Grayling, we finally arrived at Barefoot’s Resort before dark and settled into Walt’s old mobile home—not a stylish abode, but comfortable, bright, and more than roomy enough for the three of us. Finished “Payne Hollow” during the drive up. Harlan inspires me to my own individualism, and it’s my hope to find significant time for contacting my creative self over the next few days, with conceptual development for artwork and self-promotion that would be hard to sustain in an environment less conducive than this. That’s my idea of a good break from the typical routine.
Posted in Creativity, Dana, Family, Marty, Nonfiction | Comments Closed
Friday, July 14th, 2006
Not too many things make me angry, but I must say that I hate to misplace things, and looking for a missing item is a fast track to the loss of harmony as well. I truly hate the entire dynamic, and it goes to the heart of my quirks about organization and a personal relationship with “stuff.”
Before long, we’ll complete our final preparations and leave for Michigan. If we can survive the packing.
It must not matter if you’re famous or anonymous, nor whether you have the means to buy almost anything once you arrive at a destination, there’s still something about packing for a trip that generates tension and the potential for conflict. When you add to that the frustration of locating misplaced items, the combination can be rather combustible.
Charlton Heston thought enough about this volatile phenomenon to include some observations in his excellent collection of journal entries called “The Actor’s Life.” He wrote about various pre-departure blow-ups. Later, he records that he and Lydia finally came to a workable resolution—henceforth, he would play no part at all in packing.
He never mentions it again.
On this point alone, Chuck is more man than I shall ever be.
Posted in Angst, Nonfiction, Personalities, Psychology | Comments Closed
Thursday, July 13th, 2006
All I wanted to do was locate a copy of “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” and Joan has to go and bring me under the spell of Harlan Hubbard. I walked right into it, without philosophical defenses nor emotional armor. Like a dang fool!
Well, at least I’m leaving tomorrow for a humble dwelling at Barefoot’s Resort, where I can make an effort to sort out my longing for paintbrush and engraving tool, clean and eat fish caught with my own pole, and put on my wet suit again, returning to the long meditative swims in open water that I’ve daydreamed about for nearly a year… to contemplate what life will now be like with Harlan under my skin and Joe Wood’s gaze in my imagination, keenly observing how I deal with it.
Posted in Art, Fishing, Joan, Nonfiction, Personalities, Priorities | Comments Closed
Tuesday, July 11th, 2006
While at Kelly Ridge, Joan let us pick out some of Joe Wood’s old fishing poles for our trip to Michigan. She also handed me a book by Harlan Hubbard titled “Payne Hollow.” I pointed out to her the handwritten note on the front jacket flap that said, “Not for loan.”
“Too bad,” she replied. “He should’ve stuck around to enforce it.”
I immediately began to read the small work, as Dana drove us north for a few Lexington errands. I’d never heard of this memoir—the heartfelt story of an artist-craftsman and his quest for an isolated, unconventional life close to the earth, but I quickly understood why it might have been one of Joe’s most treasured books. Hubbard describes his conviction that a longing to live an even more primitive, solitary existence is less important than the compromises necessary for the richer satisfaction of a married life.
The author did not win me over from the start, but rather by slow degrees. I’m struck with the parallel of my own experience with Joe himself. Perhaps he came to the same conclusions about a life alone. Perhaps this is my sister’s way of helping me better appreciate the natural course of their own love story.
Wow… and I still have the second half of the book ahead of me.
Posted in Art, Craftsmanship, Dana, Family, Fishing, Joan, Nature, Nonfiction, Personalities, Psychology | Comments Closed
Sunday, June 25th, 2006
It’s been sorta push-push lately, so I think I’ll pause in Sabbath Mode until I restore both physical and cognitive abilities, and then it’s back to the grind.
“Why should I hasten to solve every riddle which life offers me? I am well assured that the Questioner, who brings me so many problems, will bring the answers also in due time. Very rich, very potent, very cheerful Giver that he is, he shall have it all his own way, for me.”
— Emerson
Posted in Home, Nonfiction, Prayer | Comments Closed
