Posts

Imperfect is perfect

  Ever notice how the imperfect is perfect? ...Walking through any large art museum which displays the work of many different artists, through different art movements, take a moment to observe what type of work really draws you in. Though we may be impressed with the excellent craftsmanship of an artist which created a painting or sculpture almost exactly as the subject they were depicting-something seems to be missing? What? Without realizing it, a group of artists, (later named ‘The Impressionists’  by an art critic because they had failed to duplicate their images, meaning accepted art.) forever changed the art world by trying to capture what they felt and saw in a moment. They tried to capture the heart... ...as he stood on the pond bank and watched the sparkling mist rise above the water at dawn, his heart was filled with joy and overcome by the simple beauty of it all... How to capture that instance on canvas so another might feel the same...not perfectly, but imperfe

Editing life as it edits us!

To Edit simply means to correct, revise, add, change, modify, for better, (or worse) something already in existence, basically reconstruct what has been constructed already. We are edited from the moment of our birth, until we are replanted in the ground. From our parents onward, through a trillion interactions with life itself, we are torn down and rebuilt, spare parts added, new parts bought, always hoping we are improving and proving we are worthy of the gift of life itself, until the tick of the clock makes it’s final edit. Is this why we dream of eternity? The freedom of it’s promise, the ceasing of the clock? I have three horses and they are always teaching me about life. And though they come up for feedings at certain times of the day, it is when they run free in the field to play that I am reminded of this verse; ‘Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. (Luke

Why blog...?

Why do a blog? I have no idea other than it provides a place for ‘wordy folk’ like me to share a little more. For me, words have always come in bucket loads, just ask my family. I mean, why would anyone just say they are having a good or bad day without explaining, in detail, what that means? Yes, I am the one in elementary school that had their desk right next to a poor, frustrated teacher, promising to raise my hand and not talk out again! Fail! I am also an artist and I guess to me my words are my crayons. So, like any kid with a box of crayons, sometimes they bring you a beautiful drawing with rainbows and unicorns and sometimes they bring you something more abstract, and you can’t tell what the hell it is, but you feel beholden to say how pretty it is, when that little toot looks disappointed at you because they had drawn a terrible thunderstorm which set the barn on fire...(no, that didn’t happen) My point is, I use words to express emotion, good, bad and inbetween. Maybe the