Boots, shoe polish, that brush, big rectangular soft bristled brush.  Big enough to groom a horse brush, and a rag.   Under the light over the kitchen sink, he set up for his boot shining.  Disciplined.  The boots for occasions.  Occasions such as school board meetings, Legion meetings, or shopping for a new light fixture.  Occasions that would warrant a boot that did not hold the dust from the field or the grease from a machinery repair.  Those boots were the hand me downs from the polished occasions.  He would stand at the kitchen sink.  The distinct sharp odor of polish would fill the kitchen.  I remember it to be evenings after mom had cleaned up the kitchen from its duty.  To me it was like a ritual.  A piece of discipline.  Just one of his pieces of discipline that he handed down to us by simply doing.  He would take his brush after ragging on his polish,  this large soft bristled brush in his hand, he would swipe. swipe. swipe.  In a rhythm back and forth long and full, short and swift across the toe.  consistency, rhythmically, I'd sit in the big rocker in the dining room looking out the window trying to match my rocking with his rhythm.  So often I try to match my breathing with his, saddled up to his side watching t.v. becoming one.  becoming one with someone so large.  Not in size, but large in ways unattainable.  Discipline.  I still strain to match my breath.


'Spirituality in Art'


STATEMENT in Regards to 'Spirituality in Art' written for MOFSA, the Marianne Oberg Foundation for Spiritual Art ... sadly however am not 'regional' to NC.  Positive side is that by not reading the small print (the tree within the that forest) I stepped out on a limb to attempt a new statement in a different direction, speaking of an encompassing statement not just words pertaining to a small group of work.  These thoughts have always been with me throughout my work and process.  here they are...

I believe spirituality is a vein that runs through my artwork and in the activity that inspires and provokes an artistic experience wether in the studio or in spontaneous recognition of art in my surroundings.  Those spontaneous moments most often inhabit nature and are experienced solely through the senses.  Our creative minds I believe are designed to seek out a vein of spirituality in art and to offer our perception of this world with something deeper and more profound than a literal interpretation. The literal, perhaps a photograph or map, is simply a scientific 'abstract'.  The holistic experience is the art, a journey of engaging, creating, and processing.  My artwork excludes the literal. Instead it is suggestive towards an experience.  Alluding to flight, silent encounters, 'little world' microcosms, and employing undefined birds and silhouettes as my 'anima', I attempt to create an experience.
Art, as I understand it, has allowed me to view the world with increased nuance.  God, as I understand Him, has allowed me to inhabit the world with more grace and hope.  In many ways this outlook or mindset has set a course for my artwork, that manipulating the nuances of color, light, suggestion of form and movement I can hope to create a connection to an experience.   Let that artistic experience stumble upon more grace and hope for this world.  To be uplifting.

Our higher power, who in my faith is God the Father, creator of the world and who provokes a deeper understanding of His subtle nuances and His majestic sweeps by allowing us to freely align ourselves with purpose.  

We can always seek change.   My spiritual journey becomes one of hopeful exploration and reliance on my higher power simultaneously engaging in free will. The purpose behind the new work I wish to create will be a visual experience of change, redirection and regrowth as I allude to the natural action, to shed or to molt.


Silhouette of a Girl

I picked up a faded old photo.  It held the image of a girl sitting atop a post.  Nothingness surrounded her but a faint horizon.  Her legs crossed at the ankles.  Hands folded in her lap.  Hair framed her face.  Not a true smile but faint like the horizon.  Her gaze was direct.  So ambiguous.  but equally understood.   It is my treasure.  My understood stranger.


Prickly Horizon

Last night the rains and winds altered my horizon.   It's time to try something new.  Off with the head of FaceBook and all the time it absorbs into nothingness.   Perhaps this will encourage me to write, record and change my routine.  When asked now... 'Yes'.  I have a website.  Enjoy if you wish.  No expectations on likes, shares, or followers.  If it is a dead end road, so be it.  They are quieter.  

must add... ran across this quote I had saved searching my 'files' for images.  Fitting.

We all live under the same sky, but we don't all have the same horizon. ~Konrad Adenauer