Friday, February 15, 2019


I'm getting tired of winter. I work outside with busted brushes and black ink. Fast. Get the basics down on paper and move on. Is it any good?

Sigh… my sole defense is "The Four Sages of Mt. Shang" by Soga Shôhaku.


Tuesday, February 5, 2019

State of the Union

It's funny how Nature is always in a state of changing state. The river fills up floods and then the water level goes back down —sooner or later. Icicles form and then they melt. Animals come and go. Artists come and go. Has anyone else been in love as much as I with this little spot?

In my heart of hearts, I have to presume, yes, someone has been as in love as I am. There's a plaque on the bridge that commemorates the particular Hunnewell family members that donated the land for the park. I guess they saw some need. Saw some promise in the enterprise and felt some love.

Love of place, in whatever form that takes, repays a debt to those who walked the ground before us. We walk on top of their bones. We plant our temporary banner in their soil and claim an inheritance that will also sift through our grasping fingers.

ink, charcoal
charcoal, ink

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