I’ll admit that the aesthetically exquisite “Outside my Window” influenced my color choices for the Carnegie Center illustration, but it’s time for me to take “FLIGHT, Volume One” back to the library and I really don’t want to do it. I feel as if all my ancient desires to become a comic artist will eventually bubble up to actual conviction if I keep looking through it. Oh well, if I stay diligent and get my nose above the water line again, there’s no reason I won’t be able to buy things like this and build my own library. Plus, I can always continue to study these artists on the Web—Khang Le, Chris Appelhans, Catia Chien, Mudron, Bengal, Kazu Kibuishi. They do more than preserve a wonderful genre; they breathe inspiration into a natural part of my creative DNA that I allowed to become dormant.
Archive for January, 2006
Stimulating Seminality
Tuesday, January 31st, 2006Walk ahead with strength, my son
Monday, January 30th, 2006Bruce‘s visible energy level was dramatically better today, a relief after several days of obvious discomfort and fatigue. This morning we had a visit from ND, who was kind enough to spend some time telling the account of his own horrible ordeal with pancreatitis, defiance of death, and long recovery. Believe it or not, his personal saga dares to upstage even Bruce’s amazing story, proving the adage that someone else has always experienced something worse—two years in the hospital, with a year of that without food, and over 80 surgical procedures. Even though his wife was a nurse, she couldn’t handle the intensity and walked away after the first two months. His internal organs were kept outside of this body in plastic for days until his abdominal cavity was clean enough to accept them back. His weight dropped from around 225 to under 70 pounds. He had to overcome countless temptations to give up or take his own life.
ND is an incredible man, with a depth of belief that was thoroughly tested. He is enormously blessed and gives full credit to the grace of God, without reservation. Very new people on this earth are alive to tell such a story, and I’m withholding his name to honor his privacy. He doesn’t talk about this on a regular basis and only to those he thinks will be receptive to the meaning of his personal testimony.
Sitting with ND and experiencing Bruce’s reaction has started to work some kind of quiet change in my attitude. Last year, Bruce always told me he’d get well enough to come back to Clan Valley. I have a new level of trust and respect for his ability to make judgments and decisions about his own life and the difficult challenges he’ll continue to face in the months ahead. Dana and Terie are driving him home, and how he chooses to deal with the various dysfunctional situations in his Indianapolis environment is something he’s capable of handling in his own way and in his own time. I believe he’ll do the best he can, and he’ll ask for help or advice if that’s what he decides he needs. Otherwise, he has my love, encouragement, and prayers for his complete recovery.
If you don’t think it can happen, it’s probably because you haven’t met the man who sat in my living room today, who lives each day as a gift from the Almighty, runs his own small business, and is back to benching more weight than I’ve ever dreamed of putting on the bar.
Double Homecoming
Sunday, January 29th, 2006In spite of a lengthy planning meeting at the Clan Hall, our soldier celebrated being at home with his family. During a break in the deliberations, Rita took a group portrait outside, and then the cake was cut. Joan insisted on eating Joshie’s head. The long day ended with Dana taking Bruce to the ER after his visit to the farm. Jerome put in some overtime to help identify symptoms of medication withdrawal that were alleviated. Bruce improved so rapidly that he walked home from the hospital.
Tales of the Graybeard Prospector VI
Saturday, January 28th, 2006• After I got back from a 10k at daybreak, my first Saturday-morning run since the year-end holidays, I put in a session on my digital poster art for Lexington’s Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning.
I’m among those who qualified to participate in their “Art of the Alphabet” project. 26 artists were chosen to create the “Carnegie Center Abecedarium,” a collection of illustrated letters of the alphabet. Following an exhibition that begins in mid-February, the Center will distribute the individual 26 reproductions of letters to local pre-school children over the course of a year.
I think that most of the artists will use a more painterly, humanistic technique. or what they consider to be a style of illustration suited to the young child. My approach is intended to be a contrast to what I expect will be the dominant look of the series, and perhaps awaken in children a regard for the graphic arts.
I’m still not clear on all the details of the project, but the honorarium is low, so I’m trying to be economical with my time by recycling some of my previously created elements. I’m using a montage style typical of the way I’ve been thinking visually for some time, but still very much a graphic design. It should be only the first of a series of various works that I’ll be doing this year to boost awareness of my capabilities within the city.
Oh, I hadn’t mentioned, but my letter is H. Try to guess my images before you see the finished piece.
My fellow Americans
Friday, January 27th, 2006Seems like more than the usual number of thought-provoking statistics have come to my attention recently, or maybe I’ve just been paying more attention lately when I hear them.
I learned that 40,000 American are now over the age of 100. That’s rather encouraging. I suppose I’ve had that personal target myself for awhile, at least since I first learned about Josie Dixon’s longevity. Uncle Clarence is giving it the old college try. Each generation to follow will have a better shot at it.
More discouraging is the fact that 500,000 American children are now living in foster homes. One in ten children are born to teen mothers and it’s probably significantly higher in Kentucky. One in five children grow up in poverty, but it’s obvious that poverty is defined differently than when I was a kid in the 1950s. We ran barefoot in the summer, wore hand-me-downs, and got only a few new, modestly priced toys each year, and only at Christmas. In elementary school there was the opportunity to buy a popsicle in the afternoon (before or after recess, I don’t recall), and they cost a nickel. I don’t remember ever having one of those popsicles unless a friend shared one with me. I didn’t have the remotest sense of being “poor,” and, looking back on it, I don’t think we were. Today, many “poor” children have video game consoles, cable TV, and stylish clothing. To me, being poor in the 21st century is less about material things. 40% of American boys are being raised without biological dads.
A new poll says that 91% of Americans believe in God and 87% think there’s a heaven. Only 67% believe there’s a devil, but 74% report they believe in hell.
Do I believe in heaven?
I believe in God, and because there is a God, there must exist somewhere in His creation the perfect abode for the soul… the highest state of being in unity with the Creator.
Do I believe in hell?
I believe in God, and because there is a God, there must exist somewhere in His creation a place where justice is meted out to those who commit the greatest evils… a place for those who ordered the trench assaults of World War I, for those who behead noncombatants in front of video cameras, for those who torture children and then, in response to their pleas for mercy, rape them to death.
And I believe there is a devil because of the previous sentence.
Hur! Hur! Hur-hur-hur
Thursday, January 26th, 2006It certainly looks as if this is shaping up to be a momentous weekend for our extended family, and it’s not just because we’re prepared to make some far-reaching decisions in Council. In addition to Josh’s “welcome back” from Iraq, word just arrived that Dana and Bruce are on their way to Kentucky. Needless to say, each Clansman has looked forward individually to his Blue Bank homecoming for a long time. Who would have ever guessed that both happy events would coincide?
See you at the Valley…
Yeah, I know… it’s a man-crush
Wednesday, January 25th, 2006I first encountered Paul Watkins as a memoirist, and then set out to investigate his novels, reading both a later and earlier one. But, because I’d discovered his prose as nonfiction—spoken in his own, highly personal voice—I just had to find a copy of his first autobiographical work, “Stand Before Your God,” an account of his coming of age at English boarding schools. Thank goodness for the Kentucky system of interlibrary loans!
“Stand” is a bit tough to settle into, due to its uncomfortable opening. As a boy, Paul was literally tricked into leaving home at the age of seven to get an education in the centuries-old manner of the English upper crust. Unfortunately, he was an American, and was made to feel the misfit from the first startling moments. Out of this inescapable loneliness his creativity is born, and by page 100, I’d grown so fond of the lad that I was already bemoaning the end of the book.
A few years ago, after finishing “Drawing Life: Surviving the Unabomber” by David Gelernter, I understood that it’s possible for one to develop such a deep affection for the mind of a writer that the life-span of an exceptional book triggers all the emotions associated with birth, maturation, separation, and, inevitably, the finality of mourning.
I think many dedicated readers would understand what I’m trying to describe. Although I’m a bit uneasy with this phenomenon, I’m not ashamed to admit that on rare occasions, I can actually fall in love with an artist’s creative personality. Maybe it’s even more than that—a non-physical soul union of some type that alters you for the better.
When it comes down to it, most art is basically stupid… but not when it reaches heights worthy of the word. To be able to produce a single significant, enduring work of art is a tremendous achievement, but to consistently connect with others at such an essential level—as Watkins is able to do—almost defies comprehension.
The universe is full of stuff
Tuesday, January 24th, 2006Anyone who actually visits this site is probably quite familiar by now with how I’ve provided numerous updates dealing with Bruce’s ten-month medical ordeal. Anyone who actually visits this site is probably already familiar with some of his private difficulties, of which I’ve never provided details here.
I learned today that some of my recent wording struck a nerve. Most likely it was when I wrote, “the conditions of his personal life are too harsh for me to present…” Even that level of discretion was apparently offensive.
I don’t consider my use of the word “harsh” to be inaccurate, nor is it even slightly exaggerated. Displeasure undoubtedly arose from the mere fact that I said anything at all which might touch on the reality that all is not well.
I would hope that another truthful statement is that the very people who regularly like to know what’s on Uncle John’s mind are the same people who care for Bruce deeply. As far as I’m concerned, anyone else is not welcome at this site, and I urge you to find better uses for your time. The rest of you come here for my candid thoughts and opinions about almost anything, including my family.
Keep coming back. I’ll do my “dangdist” to let you know what I really think about, and, to the best of my ability, I’ll avoid unnecessarily ruffling any feathers. If you disagree with me—and I’d expect that most individuals would, from time to time—you can take Brendan up on his offer to host a blog for your viewpoints, too. For good or ill, this is the era of The Blog… Hey, it’s almost like it’s the 21st Century, man!
And if you want to know something else, I learned to blog from the Adkins brothers, and they’re not known for pulling a punch (especially Ian)—when they punch, that is—which isn’t very often, because they’re nice guys, but they do know how to punch, because they used to do martial arts and stuff and kicked hind end in video games and watched a lot of movies where guys get punched and kicked a lot, and sometimes you can see the blood and it doesn’t look fake and the ruffled feathers are sorta pink and bloody and sticky, and if it wasn’t a movie it would smell like a Kentucky cock-fighting pit, if you know what I mean…
I love you, Bruce.
That’s why, when I look back over my year of log entries, your amazing story is…
• • • the top highlight of 2005 • • •
Inner Storm
Sunday, January 22nd, 2006Beyond the realm of thinking
Or mere philosophy,
You hoped to comprehend it,
Unlock reality.
The mind is much too wondrous
To squander in a rut.
You must have felt you’d find it
In your heart, bones, or gut.
“Teach a lie, conceal the whole,
And satisfy with crumbs.
Chew another piece of soul,
but let them keep their thumbs.”
Sed libera nos a malo
And tortured Gospel cries.
You always feared to swallow
Those precious infant eyes.
The pictures were too jarring,
Each time you stopped to stare.
You never thought to measure
A mother’s simple prayer.
You’ll make it through the downpour,
When you reduce your speed,
With steps the Lord will show you,
Sufficient to your need.
J A D
This is definitely a Sunday
Sunday, January 22nd, 2006I hadn’t been feeling the tenderness in my knee, so I figured it was time to start running again. My waistline had been telling me the same thing for over a week.
I ran the full cross-country course out at Mack’s farm, half before the “Shared Silence,” and half after. Milton talked about how he categorizes and charts modern myth theories. I was still thinking too much about a couple movies we watched with David and Lee last night.
The Constant Gardener
The best thing about it is the editing. The worst thing about it is also the editing. That doesn’t mean it won’t win awards, but personally I think they went a bit overboard on the final product. Nevertheless, it’s probably a masterpiece, but, for some reason, I’m not sure about that.
Broken Flowers
Bill Murray may be Hollywood’s greatest facial minimalist since Buster Keaton. I could be wrong about this, too.
Although totally different, both movies were very creative. Both had superb casts and great music. On some level I think I’d already accepted this as a given, so I really doubt if either of these films will stick with me for very long. Maybe I’m just a little burned out on motion pictures lately, or, more likely, my thoughts have been occupied most of the day with something else.
I have afternoon plans to go to Lexington with Danny and attend a full Latin Mass—my first since the 1960s.
Various & Sundry, part thirty-one
Saturday, January 21st, 2006— When I got up at 6:30 to check the weather, the wind with light rain was enough deterrent for me to call off my scheduled run. I guess I have to admit I’m not as hard-core as I used to be. Dana and I did yoga instead, with the Charles and Lisa tape, waiting for live TV coverage showing the return of the Kentucky National Guard’s 623rd. Josh and his unit had some initial delays in getting out of Iraq, since they had to fill up a plane first, but he’s been back in the States for a number of days now, and was supposed to fly into Louisville this morning. When he touches down and is greeted by family, it will mark the end of his perilous overseas deployment. Welcome back, Josh!
— Last night Hayley’s team met its match with some athletic, high-pressure ball players from Lincoln County High. Our Belle displayed some skilled moments, but most of her minutes showed a hesitancy that comes from inexperience with competition at this level of intensity. She faced a energetic, senior-dominated squad. I think she also defers too often on the floor to older teammates, rather than place more confidence in her own leadership, which she’s more inclined to do when she’s not nervous, and then she shoots more, finishes her powerful drives to the basket, or finds an open player. When she performs that way she usually has a high-scoring game. The consistency is sure to come, but she needs to find a way to bear down and trust her own abilities. I wish she had a better coach, and some day she will. She has a lot of basketball ahead of her. It will be a joy to watch.
— I made more progress today on remodelling the small kitchen off our upstairs conference room. It’s hard to explain why it’s been so neglected over the years, but this is the year to complete the project. It’s proven in many ways to be the log jam that impedes the last phase of physical organization that has to take place for us to have the kind of studio space we always intended for the Town House. I also wrote an email to the chairman of the Library expansion committee describing our desire to recycle some materials from the demolition of the church to take place across the street this summer. We’d like to take stone, brick, or both, and create a rubble-style paved driveway. I think there’s a good chance the project will get a green light, but it’ll take some “Clan-Power” for me to pull off my end of the deal.
Too gnarled a realm for this cautious blogger
Friday, January 20th, 2006I have a desire to do another detailed Bruce Update, since his medical situation continues to improve, but the conditions of his personal life are too harsh for me to present in this format, at least for now. Perhaps in time I’ll write something for the permanent record, but, for those of you who read this log and care about Bruce, if you want to know the specifics of what’s going on, please contact me or Dana directly. I encourage you to do so, and then to communicate your best regards to him.
Untitled
Thursday, January 19th, 2006I heard a story yesterday about combat pilots in training. Each group goes into an oxygen deprivation chamber and half of them take off their masks. Eventually the half that maintains an adequate oxygen level has to struggle with the others, forcing them to put their masks back on so they won’t die.
I don’t have any particular reason to think that the story isn’t true, but last night I had a dream. I was driving a car in terrible, slippery weather and began to hear people screaming. I looked out the window to my left and saw a dam collapsing. I knew I had a split second to decide whether to flee away from the broken dam in an attempt to outpace the onrushing flood, or to drive uphill in the direction of the water, at an angle, with the possibility of escaping the rupture. I woke up before I could decide.
There’s no people like show people
Wednesday, January 18th, 2006Tonight Dana had her book club, so I took the tickets Jeanne gave me and went to see the Harlem Gospel Choir at Norton Centre with my friend Danny D. The people on stage were very accomplished professionals, but the performance was too loud, too packaged, too “Show-Biz” for me. I get extremely discerning when it comes to worship-based music, but I can’t help it.
Moving kinda slow, but discovering the good stuff
Tuesday, January 17th, 2006It sent out a beam like a laser sight, hitting my eye sideways from across the library, and I couldn’t believe I was the first to spot it on the new-purchases shelf. I immediately brought home “FLIGHT, Volume One” and consumed it as I would a delicacy—which, of course, it is. I’ve been to Bolt City and other webcomic sites, but savoring this collection plays to my print bias. It makes me realize how much other incredible work I’m surely allowing myself to miss. I’ve got to do something about that. A new golden age of the comic strip is already under way.
Year two, day one
Monday, January 16th, 2006Sort of hollowed myself out with yesterday’s long entry, so now I’m just sitting here, realizing I was staring at the screen, slowly collapsing like a carved pumpkin head in November, with my menacing grin replaced by a weary smirk.
Today is King Day, and I recommend reading Gruntled Center.
Our heroes have feet of clay. Doesn’t that make their contributions more remarkable? If you don’t think so, you probably haven’t understood the nature of heroism.
About Uncle John
Sunday, January 15th, 2006(Because today is the one-year anniversary since the start of this daily log, I thought it was about time I included some sort of personal profile or “creator page.” Until I figure out a way to treat it as a separate file, I’ll just use this entry for the “About Uncle John” link. Thanks for all your help, Brendan.)
— — —
Within a nine month period, Uncle John had a niece and two nephews named Jerusha, Brendan, and Joshua, but that’s not how he got his name. Kristi or Rachel was probably the first person to call him that. He was already a stepfather, by virtue of Terie and Bruce, but was never called Stepfather John, thank goodness. Lots of exceptional young people now call him Uncle John on a regular basis and he likes it that way. Marty calls him GrandyJohn, and he likes that even more. Nobody ever called him Daddy, and that makes him sad at times, but that’s just the way things work out.
The best way to know more about Uncle John is to frequent this log, but if you want to go to school on the guy, you can learn something from what he likes and what he doesn’t like.
— — —
UNCLE JOHN LIKES—
Dana
In fact, he likes her a lot.
Exercise
Because his ticker came from his Dadbo.
Art
Not Uncle Art, who he also liked a lot, but the other kind—paintings by Paulo Veronese, Maurice Utrillo, Carl Rungius, Paul Klee, Andrew Wyeth, or Sheldon Tapley. He’ll always take time to appreciate a Dürer print, a Blake watercolor, a Mucha poster, a Stickley chair, a Rockwell cover, a Schwitters collage, a Patterson woodblock, a Wright interior, a Cassandre litho, a Kent engraving, a Link image, a Watterson strip, or a Glaser design.
Pirates
For good or ill, they’ve always been lurking nearby, outside, underneath, and inside.
Television
He thinks Mission: Impossible was the pinnacle of series television. In addition to great vintage shows like The Rifleman, Combat! and The Wild, Wild West; animated classics like The Adventures of Jonny Quest and Rocky and His Friends; and obscure gems like The New Breed, The Rogues, Tenspeed & Brownshoe, and The Yellow Rose, he also thoroughly enjoyed The Prisoner, Kung Fu, thirtysomething, The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr., and Firefly.
Words
His favorite living writers are Allan W. Eckert, Paul Watkins, Tom Wolfe, Peggy Noonan, Sebastian Junger, and Brendan Adkins. He also likes Homer, Kipling, and Clavell, but, unfortunately, they’re dead. In all seriousness, at different points in life, he’s found significance in the creative insights of Michel de Montaigne, Carl Jung, Alfred Korzybski, Ayn Rand, Morihei Ueshiba, Koichi Tohei, Gyorgy Kepes, Ann Wigmore, Mark Prophet, Juno Jordan, Twyla Tharp, and Deepak Chopra.
Motion Pictures
At the top of Uncle John’s list are movies like this: Forbidden Planet, The Great Escape, Silverado, The Big Country, Out of Africa, The Player, Groundhog Day, The Pale Rider, Braveheart, The Sting, Will Penny, The Conversation, Gorky Park, The Cowboys, Spirited Away, Indian Summer, Master and Commander, The Princess Bride, Fitzcarraldo, The Last of the Mohicans, Amadeus, Five-Man Army, The Rounders, Open Range, The Verdict, Red Sun, The Hustler, Quigley Down Under, The Great Santini, Z, The Man Who Would Be King, Hell in the Pacific, Sneakers, My Dinner with Andre, A Clockwork Orange, and It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World. (Like hell he’s gonna provide links for all those!)
Uncle John has a very likable business with Dana in Danville, Kentucky. He also likes to make greeting cards, collect vintage plastic toys, catch fish from Lake Huron, listen to music, shoot all types of firearms, and, like everybody, spend time with his friends.
— — —
UNCLE JOHN DOES NOT LIKE—
Coyotes, opossums, cormorants, and snapping turtles.
Idiots who yell at cyclists and runners.
Con artists who aren’t in the movies.
Computers that won’t cooperate.
Sloppy or incompetent work of any kind.
Manipulation (except advertising and politics, of course).
Squandered potential (especially when it’s his own).
Lies (that includes advertising and politics).
The absurdities of safety-net health care.
Leaf blowers, hydrogenated fat, do-it-yourself junkyards.
Litterbugs, deprogrammers, identity thieves.
Ideological elites.
Meth pushers.
Abortionists.
— — —
Some other things you may want to know about Uncle John:
He normally doesn’t write about himself in the third person. He wishes he could still be a gardener, teacher, and practitioner of Aikido (and perhaps someday he will). He’d like to run a half-marathon in under two hours. He hopes to visit Alaska, Chile, Norway, Slovakia, South Africa, and Japan. He looks forward to documenting all the details of his lifelong “Legend” project before he heads to that big playset in the sky. He wants to build a studio in The Knobs and live to see each of his nieces and nephews become grandparents, unless he or she is destined to bequeath only influence, rather than genes—like him—and in that case will always be welcome to stop by the Valley Retreat for a visit, taste some Amarula, and listen to the Blue Bank Farm whippoorwills…
— — —
Obscure celebrities of Nordic history
Saturday, January 14th, 2006Ian’s face-recognition blog entry is hilarious. I had to try it, too. So I uploaded a recent picture of me that Dana likes.
Who the hell is Christian IX of Denmark?
Sulking, I looked through a few more pictures, and—you guessed it—I selected a picture of my notorious alter ego, Headley Lice.
No picture of Admiral Lice would return a result at the MyHeritage.com site. Very curious. The fear of this pirate’s dreaded wrath extends deeper than I ever presumed.
And so I used my old Muscle Club shot.
—Theodore Roosevelt— YES!
Then I took the big plunge. Uploading a photo of Dana in high school, I sought scientific proof that ever since the night I first watched El Cid, I had spent my youth trying to lure Sophia Loren into the pillows.
—Isabelle Adjani— Hmm, not bad…
Who the hell is Sophia Loren?
Various & Sundry, part thirty
Friday, January 13th, 2006— You asked for them…
BIG Jim — The BIG Guy Himself — The BIG Valley — The Other BIG Guy Himself
— The BIG news of the week in Danville was the corporate restructuring of Ephraim McDowell Health, with the president of the medical center being ousted in the process. When I chatted with him today I suggested he run for County Judge Executive, just to see his reaction. He didn’t dismiss the idea at all and said, “John, I’ve thought about a lot of things this week, but that wasn’t one of them.” It was almost as if I could hear that familiar Lalo Schifrin tune, and felt like I was finally stepping into the shoes of YOU KNOW WHO.
— We just got home from the BIG Danville-vs-Boyle-County basketball double header. As Cliff predicted, the boy’s game was intense, given the deep local rivalry. I haven’t felt that kind of energy near a basketball court since my high school days, when a Northmont or Vandalia-Butler showndown brought the student body to fever pitch. Both Boyle County teams won, and I agreed with Marty that the girls’ game was more satisfying to watch. If I counted correctly, Hayley’s point total made it to double digits again. She’s a real playmaker and had a number of significant assists. She also continues to be prone to mistakes that accompany her inexperience with sustaining game focus. It’s scary to think how good she’ll be when she stops making them.
— After the ball games, while taking Marty home, we learned that Bruce was being admitted back into Methodist Hospital. It has to do with replacing some of his dang “pipelines and spigots.” I guess BIG problems could result if this kind of thing were ignored or downplayed during his steady recovery.
What can I say? It’s the vibes, man
Thursday, January 12th, 2006Earlier today I wanted to take advantage of the mild weather and paint the porch eaves. While grabbing some newspaper to put underneath my paint can, I noticed a story from December, 2004 about the Danville-vs-Boyle-County girls basketball game. Hayley scored five points. I’d just been thinking about going to her game tomorrow night. And then Jeanne pulled in the driveway, so we started looking at the details of the story, sizing up the opposition.
Cosmic.
Don’t let Brendan have all the fun
Wednesday, January 11th, 2006Marie Antoinette never said “let them eat cake” — this is a mistranslation of “let them eat The Carson Family.”
All of the roles in Shakespeare’s plays — including the female roles — were originally played by Pirates.
The horns of Sugar Boop are made entirely from hair.
The number one cause of blindness in the United States is Stench Pit.
Thought Form for 2006
Tuesday, January 10th, 2006I’m not sure how long I’ve been formulating them, but it’s become a custom for me to cultivate a certain receptivity at the beginning of a calendar year, attuning to what I end up calling my “thought form” for the coming cycle. A year ago it was, “Get your act together and live life while you’re alive!” Anyone who knows what my family was coping with might have a clear sense of my mental state at the time. After many months of intervening disruption, I look forward to a new level of wholeness and cohesion in my affairs.
“Symmetry and proportion in all things: the triumph of order.”
I don’t know where that came from, but it resonates…