Alone… with Him alone

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.

Various & Sundry, part fifty-two

May 15th, 2007

— I fell short of my goal to get the Band Festival poster into final production today when downtown Danville had a power outage. It had to do with a line that fell down near the college, possibly due to “metal fatigue” from a previous lightning strike. With our cordless handsets useless, I had to make an important call with our old rotary dial phone, still hard-wired on the ground floor of the Town House. The sound quality was excellent. Don’t knock old tech—it can still provide an adequate butt-saving now and then. On the other hand, I let the back yard grass get so long that cutting it with Uncle Art’s old push-mower is out of the question. Time to fire up our Troy-Bilt for the first time in several years.

— You’ll have to consult with Brendan about how far Jennifer Brummett has to go before she’ll achieve any level of credibility with him, but perhaps the hole she dug a while back is not quite as deep after this past weekend. In addition to putting together a rather nice feature on my KOSMOS exhibition for The Kentucky Advocate, she selected my donated art when her ticket was called at Saturday night’s Art-Full Raffle. It was an enjoyable event, with proceeds funding the Arts Scholarship Program of the Arts Commission of Danville/Boyle County. The piece (which I titled Microcosmic Musings) was the smallest collage from the body of work created for KOSMOS, so I decided to donate it to the Art-Full Raffle. Since its inception in 2004, the program has awarded more than $5,000 in scholarships to 74 children for extra-curricular classes their families would not otherwise be able to afford.

— It’s been a while since the old Graybeard first went into the Knobs to stake a claim, but it’s finally paid off with a project from Casey County. The Central Kentucky Ag/Expo Center is an extraordinary investment, but has always struggled with its marketing image. Not a bad strike for our studio, and, if things work out, we might have the opportunity to drop a connecting shaft into a few other promising veins.

V & S

Life as a blur

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.

Getting used to new formats

May 9th, 2007

Mombo and I had supper together at the Hall Sunday evening and the farm looked wonderful to my eyes. Fron and Bubb were both mowing when I drove in, and Glenda has clearly added her effort to the flower beds. Bless them all for their care of the Clan Heartland. I used to have more pangs of regret when I made visits from my town-based existence, but now I just focus on appreciating the way things are, and that my mother has a beautiful place to live, and that the foundation is now laid for a new generation of stewardship. As ever, the Land awaits me. What shall I do about it?

Various & Sundry, part fifty-one

May 5th, 2007

— Month of April workout totals: DON’T EVEN ASK . . .

— Well, it’s May—Derby Day at that—and I had my best night’s sleep in weeks. I even dreamed about my old employer in Evanston, with a very pleasant, lucid conversation. I’m glad to be comfortably back in the blogiverse, and it hasn’t had anything to do with News Bruiser’s recent excommunication. It’s had everything to do with a wild convergence of commitments in April that shoved aside all activity but the most essential. I’m pleased to say I was able to fulfill each of my pledges: to lead the annual meeting of our five-county Salvation Army, to participate in the spring conclave of the Kentucky Bicycle and Bikeway Commission, to attend the quadrennial national conference of the Salvation Army in Dallas, and to mount my first solo art exhibition since 2002. Whew… Can you believe I pulled it all off?

— The experience in Dallas was, without a doubt, the most powerful package of consciousness-raising stimuli that I’ve had the privilege to absorb in many, many moons. An amazing line-up: Jerry Jones, Laura Bush, Rick Warren, Jim Collins, and Israel Gaither. Plus the many workshop sessions that astonished me with their solid informational excellence, including an opportunity to hear Stan Richards, a legend in the advertising world who would’ve been a prize key-noter at any professional gathering. He’s the creative mind behind the Army’s recent “Doing the Most Good” branding effort. On top of it all, we had the wonderful gift of time spent with good friends from Danville (nine of us were there), plus an exhilarating two days at the Anatole Hilton, which is like being inside a museum, because it has a world-class collection of Asian art distributed throughout the spacious complex (Reagan held the Republican National Convention there in 1984). And I haven’t even mentioned our evening at Texas Stadium: a picnic supper on the turf, lots of entertainment, and a chance to nose around an NFL locker room. Far too cool for a guy who can probably name less than a dozen pro football players. Eat your heart out, Marty… Oh, I forgot. You hate the Cowboys.

— Also wedged into last month was a particularly refreshing “Council Day” at the Valley. Both Terie and Bruce were there, and I don’t think that’s ever happened before. Makes me a bit prouder to be the namesake of the House of John. See you all at the next Clan gathering. Same time, same channel…

— After months of preparation, my exhibition at Danville’s Community Arts Center was hung and opened without any serious mishap. True, I had to abandon several items on my wish list, including a desire to display my first “Joe Box,” but, as usual, things worked out the way they’re supposed to, and the room was arranged with enough creations to satisfy my fondest anticipations. It was a delight to welcome lots of Clan and dear friends (plus many local poobahs were in attendance). Thanks to Bruce for his home-stretch assistance, and, of course, to my ”partner in all things,” who supported my preparatory effort for much of the year, and laid out a delicious spread of goodies outside the gallery on Thursday evening. Wow. This is not the end, but only the beginning of many more successful shows. Just take a look in my eyes. I can see the vision.

V & S

Today’s sticky wicket

April 23rd, 2007

What should people in our situation do when a client turns “icky?” How does one balance a professional independence earned through years of effort with the pressing need to build more business?

Not an easy decision . . .

mind clippings

April 21st, 2007

just took on more “ownership” of cycling advocacy at the state level — don’’t think about it — too much to accomplish before we fly to Texas — don’t doubt yourself — missing Hurray Day with my Clan — don’t fret about it — haven’t gone to the gym in a week — do some pushups — can’t think of titles that will help sell my art — don’t fear the unknown — grass is still growing — just mow, dammit

Pianos along the Oregon Trail

April 19th, 2007

Seldom during my life have I felt so fulfilled and so beleaguered at the same time. Over the years, I’ve persevered through hundreds of stressful deadlines, but now I can finally appreciate what an artist goes through leading up to a solo exhibition. I want to execute all my ideas, but I know that I’m running out of time, and now I have to sandwich in a couple days for my KBBC annual retreat. As I continuously evaluate the intensity of labor required to finish my show as planned, in light of the dwindling quantity of available time, I’m preparing myself to abandon some significant desires and more than few high hopes.

A man of springtime

April 17th, 2007

Can’t help but be thinking about my father today, since he would’ve been 84, but actually I’ve been thinking about him all month. Everyone has been waiting for the weather to warm up like it has, but he would’ve loved this chilly April anyway. Few kinds of weather could hold him indoors, especially at this time of year.

Dana and I paid a visit to Pike Valley Farm this afternoon to meet with our newest clients and take a tour of their lakeside organic operation. What a day for it! And what great satisfaction my Dadbo would’ve derived from our enjoyable “inspection.”

It seems like all I’ve been dealing with lately are studio curve balls and unexpected challenges to my harmony. It helps me to recall how many of those he had to face in his life, and how often he took them in stride, if they presented an opportunity for service to others. But I also remember how particular things would aggravate him or rattle his nerves, and it reminds me that I’ve inherited his temperament. So I tell myself to relax, even though I’m still not very good at it.

I want to say more about him, but tonight I can’t hope to equal what I wrote for his birthday a year ago. It would please me for you to click and read it again, too.

Powder and tweed

April 15th, 2007

I put aside all my stresses for a day and a half and enjoyed the company of some very fine people who came to David’s cabin for his second spring rifle competition. After participating in the Saturday morning shoot with an Australian .310 Cadet rifle (tied for fifth place), I kept score in the afternoon for relay number two of the British Single Shot Sporting Rifle Match. With the miserable weather that blew through, we couldn’t have had better luck than when the rain stopped long enough to preserve the event as originally planned. David said he couldn’t have pulled it off without me. In spite of prior misgivings, I was glad to have been there, to have helped out my friend, and to have solidified relationships with some of the region’s top experts on Victorian firearms.

Various & Sundry, part fifty

April 13th, 2007

— Dana and I had an interesting conference yesterday. We met a guy at a Starbucks in Lexington, unsure about exactly how his role dovetailed with our new project for ftb-automotive. We thought he might be a bedroom Web designer, and he turned out to be a top executive with HOST Communications, one of the most prominent providers of interactive services in Central Kentucky. You never know.

— The Arts Across Kentucky deal came through, and I was able to get a drum-scan of my Band Festival poster art in time to touch it up and forward it on to the magazine for today’s deadline. Dana took time to revise my biographical profile, and it’s almost beginning to sound halfway credible.

— NBC makes episodes of its series available online, so Dana and I just had to watch the season closer for “FNL” that we missed on her birthday. Even though it was inside a little box, and the video was kinda jerky and crude, and I was listening with cheap headphones, the finale choked me up. Peter Berg’s extraordinary show has me totally captivated. Now I’’ll be on edge ’til I find out if it gets picked up for a second year.

— This weekend is David’s scheduled event at the Simpson Range—his .310 Cadet and British Single Shot Sporting Rifle Matches. I’ll be combining some business with pleasure, and it’s certain to be a great time, but I have to admit I’m getting a bit concerned about how many days I have left to prepare for KOSMOS.

V & S

My Senior Sweetie

April 11th, 2007

Last night’s Salvation Army Annual Dinner was a smashing success. Today I realized all the work for my May exhibition has to be completed and framed within two weeks, so we can leave for Dallas and the NAOC. We had a double birthday celebration this evening—the entire House of John plus David. Lee is in Virginia with her mother. I was having such a good time I forgot all about recording the season finale of “Friday Night Lights.” Must have been the Gnarly Head.

Ok, it’s 65. Happy Birthday to you.

Various & Sundry, part forty-nine

April 9th, 2007

— I’ve been trying to think of an appropriate way to tell Ian that I’m proud of his new workout discipline and to offer my encouragement, but I haven’t thought of anything cool or clever to say to him yet. Well, in the meantime, maybe this will do.

— One of the byproducts of March is an almost hypersensitivity to the ingredient stimuli that influence my state of being for each particular day—whether or not I’ve exercised, what I’m currently reading, whether I’m on the uphill or downhill side of a deadline, how much restful sleep I had, what kind of a movie I might have watched the night before, whether I began the day with a Rosary, what style of artwork I’m in the middle of, whether or not my Macintosh is acting up, etc. Being more aware of how these things affect my mood and powers of concentration is good, right? I used to just let each day find its own pitch without much thought to this kind of assessment, but now I know I can counter-balance various influences with music, poetry, prayer, stretching, dietary adjustments, or just a quick floor romp with a Yorkie. Nevertheless, there are still certain kinds of creative tension that have a tendency to throw me off my game, but I’m “getting there.”

— My talk seemed to go well enough yesterday morning that Milton wants to schedule it again as a “rerun.” I don’t think that’s ever happened before, but it might have something to do with only two other people showing up.

— Easter was a long day, but it felt like it flew by much too fast. When I waited to pick up Bruce from the hospital, I sat in the car for a spell, listening to my tape of Heston reading from the New Testament. Bruce was ready to go, but they failed to order the wheelchair transport to the exit. Such a silly regulation. I can stand to be around hospitals, but I don’t like them. As it turned out, Bruce didn’t feel well enough for the ride down to the farm, so he stayed home. We stopped in Junction on the way, to get Terie and Marty, and the four of us spent the holiday afternoon with Clan. I drank too much coffee and ate too much food. Had a very nice discussion with Peat about her job as newspaper editor next year. She’s laying the groundwork this spring, which is smart, and will spend some time in Europe this summer—quite a few Clan Kiddoes are following in my footsteps with travel abroad during student years. I found out that Seth has committed to Bellarmine. Looks like Sam Morgan will go there, too, and he’ll run track. We saw pictures of “Baby Molina,” and I got the data to do numerology charts for her and Torrance. Later in the day, I watched Marty conduct battles on the PC with ROME: Total War, and we played on the PS2 together, too. Our best boxing bout was Sugar Ray R against Sugar Ray L. Marty has moved to primarily sports video games because they require more controller skill, plus he’s getting more interested in the world of sport overall, which is having a bit of a spill-over effect for me. I actually cared who won the green jacket.

V & S

Easter Morning Remarks

April 7th, 2007

I found the mental break I needed by sitting down to write words for our circle of friends who gather at Mack’s cabin for Shared Silence. As you probably know, these talks are known locally as “After Silence.” It’s been four and half years since I did one of these talks. I intend to give due credit to best buddy Mike for many of the facts, observations, and speculations that I’m including. They’re borrowed primarily from an article he wrote last year for Dynamic Chiropractic. Bruce went to the ER this morning with severe pain and is spending the night in a private room. Originally he was going with us to the farm for tomorrow’s holiday with Clan, but now he may not be released soon enough. Hospitals exist in another world of time, and it’s a lot like the weather—no sense in worrying about something over which one has absolutely no control.

Roll the dice; it’s a temporal vise

April 5th, 2007

My two major volunteer projects of the year seem to have converged in a single work week, and if I can just get through the next twenty-four hours in one piece, I should be able to use the holiday to wind down a bit and refocus on my preparations for the May exhibition.

Oh yeah, it occurs to me that there are now some clients who desire to pay me if I spend some creative time on their behalf.

A wise man would comply.

zap

April 3rd, 2007

I wrote an entire entry that was wiped out by a power outage before I thought to save it. I really don’t have much time available for this in the first place, and I have even less to spend doing it twice.

Various & Sundry, part forty-eight

April 1st, 2007

— Month of March workout totals: Swim-3; Bike-3; Run-4; Lift-6; Yoga-8

— My body isn’t the same one I had ten years ago when I could run a 6:41 mile, but attention to physical fitness is the key to all my other areas of fitness. Lots of people talk to me about their desire to exercise more or to find the time to start again, and I tell them it’s “just a habit like anything else.” Motivation has its place, but for most regular exercisers like me, it’s just something we’ve learned to do by habit. If you don’t exercise, you’ve just learned to do that by habit instead, like the habit of not reading much or not flossing teeth. Replace an unwanted habit with a constructive one—easier said than done. As trite as it may sound, it usually comes down to the familiar Yoda quotation, “Do or do not. There is no try.”

— Naturally, I’m thinking about the March Experiment today. I recognized some time ago that it’s not really about breakthroughs in professional achievement. but rather about the consciousness of continuous personal awareness. That may sound like a particularly selfish pursuit—and it is. On the other hand, I’ve come to believe that control of self-awareness is at the foundation of sensitivity to others. Compassion is rooted in mastery over one’s emotional priorities. Perhaps some individuals are just born with a natural magnanimity. Since I wasn’t, I must take pains to find the necessary inner balance. Therefore—the exercise in March. Yes, I’m now considering making the practice an annual refresher.

— Mombo sends word that Joan, Caitlan, Janet, and Jerome have arrived safely in England, and Brendan met them at the airport. I hope he fixes them up with a blogging station, so we can get the latest news from London. Wow. When I think that it’s been almost 33 years since I was there, my eyes roll back in my head. I can’t imagine what it would be like to visit again. Many things would look the same (the museums and tourist sites), but other places are surely gone forever (those hip shops on King’s Road in Chelsea, etc.). Have fun, guys, and fashion your own memories!

— It’s April, my favorite time of year. Thinking of my family on holiday and having dinner tonight with my household has filled me with gratitude for wonderful things, especially with so many in my hometown mourning the senseless loss of Chiara Levin, a victim of wanton irresponsibility while visiting Boston last week. I am thankful for all the good fortune in my Clan, for my health, for the opportunity to live a creative, meaningful life in a decent community, for an extraordinary partner in all things, and for the Almighty who sustains me. I am truly blessed…

V & S

The Experiment is OH-VAH

March 31st, 2007

March experiment—day thirty-one— Another intensive month devoted to rooting out undesirable habits and replacing them with an improved momentum of productive creativity. This calls for a victory fanfare!

The home stretch

March 30th, 2007

March experiment—day thirty— One foot in front of the other brings the finish line a step closer.

Today’s sight bite— Scraps of printed text, a dried leaf, an encyclopedia engraving, stickers for a video label, a tea-bag tag, numbers torn from an old calendar—c-l-i-c-k, c-l-i-c-k, c-l-i-c-k, c-l-i-c-k—a flurry of color and images as a collage takes shape.

Tomorrow— Last day; kick it out…

The far turn for the bean fiend

March 29th, 2007

March experiment—day twenty-nine— In almost every race I’ve run, it’s been possible to find an extra bit of something at the finish. So for the next couple days I need to dig down like that and find “the means.” Since I relied heavily on the bean brew over the Indy weekend, and I can’t deal with cutting back now, the ’feine is along for the ride. I’ll try to keep him in the back seat. (How many metaphors am I sticking in the blender here? Sheesh!) Better wind this up, but not before reporting that I received a request from the editor of Arts Across Kentucky magazine, because she wants to consider using my painting, Spellbound by Brass, on the cover. That’s great news, but I’m wearing so many creative hats right now—collage artist, watercolorist, designer, printmaker, illustrator—that I need to be sure to keep it all straight when talking to people.

Today’s sight bite— A dingy gray sky the color of soap-dish scum resting on top of Norton Center—c-l-i-c-k— with its ordinarily rich terra cotta and butternut hues washed away by the dismal morning conditions.

Tomorrow— Let’s see how much vigor there still is in the experiment…

Entrusting an outcome to the Source

March 28th, 2007

March experiment—day twenty-eight— Today was one of those days when Dana and I shared thumbnail sketches at breakfast, resolved an advantageous division of labor, and then entered the studio with the minutes ticking down on an important presentation. Call it experience, professionalism, or old-fashion maturity, but a morning can take shape like that nowadays without my wading through all the anxiety and worst-case mental brambles which used to clutter the way. I like to think it also has something to do with trusting one’s intuition, but how does one develop intuition without struggling through all that trial and error? Oh well, it’s made for some good war stories, anyway. After I printed the layout for Kentucky Trust Company and Dana was off to her meeting, I prepared a preliminary design for the Band Festival T-shirt and Elaine liked it. She seems quite bullish on my work right now and is instigating some publicity opportunities for the Festival that will also gain a bit of recognition for me. Hey, that’s the way this deal was always supposed to work!

Today’s sight bite— Bradford pear blossoms drifting on the breeze past my kitchen window—c-l-i-c-k—masquerading as a springtime flurry of snow.

Tomorrow— Our new automotive client makes his big pitch out East, elements of the Salvation Army Annual Report are to be assembled, a last opportunity for final touches on Spellbound by Brass, plus more progress expected on my preparations for KOSMOS: Discovery and Disclosure

A rowdy rook to augur my fate

March 27th, 2007

March experiment—day twenty-seven— The morning began early, with Bruce needing to start his first Danville dialysis treatment at 6:30 am, but it was already obvious that the March Experiment was on life support. Whether I had it in me to shift from the grueling pace of the Indiana move to my ambitious studio checklist was up in the air. I was just about to declare to myself that the whole thing was “oh-vah,” but then thought I deserved one last effort at re-imposing the exercise, so I picked the most difficult thing I could think of to self-assign—complete my intimidating graphic interpretation of cornetist Vince DiMartino for the Band Festival merchandise. It’s a style of symbolic abstraction that is commonly seen, but often poorly executed. Although I’ve previously pulled it off with reasonable competency, to be honest, it’s a style I’ve never come close to mastering. Nevertheless, I attacked the demanding project, overcoming waves of doubt and discomfort, fighting computer crashes, and dealing with a steady stream of interruptions. And the result? Others will be the judge, but the Experiment is still alive, by Jove!

Today’s sight bite— The enormous black crow, perching high in our “Simon Kenton” maple—c-l-i-c-k—as I wonder if his rhythmic caw is laughter, mocking my insane pursuit, or a series of congratulatory salutes.

Tomorrow— Testing an invigorated schedule and the desire to persevere…