|Journeys of books, " today's watercolor, 5" by 5" 140 lb. d'Arches|
"When dawn spreads its paintbrush on the plain, spilling purple... ," Sons of the Pioneers theme for TV show "Wagon Train." Dawn on the mythic Santa Fe Trail, New Mexico, looking toward Raton from Cimarron. -- Clarkphoto. A curmudgeon artist's musings melding metaphors and journalism, for readers in more than 150 countries.
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Saturday, August 26, 2017
You can tell a lot about people by the books on their shelves, or by the bedstand, or in our case, scattered throughout the house. Draw your own conclusions.So far this year--
Susan Rice, Quiet, The Power of Introverts in a world that can’t stop talking
Books completed in 2017
· Zoltan Szabo Paints Landscapes—watercolor, used
· Betty Lou Schlemm, Watercolor Secrets for Painting Light, used
· Oliver Meslay, Turner, Life and Landscape
· William Least Heat Moon, Celestial Mechanics
· Anne Hillerman, Song of the Lion
· Michael Crichton, Lost World
· Robert Ludlum, The Matlock Paper
· Nathaniel Philbrick, Mayflower
· David McCullough, The Wright Brothers,
· Smoke over Oklahoma—The Railroad Photographs of Preston George
· Nan Shepherd, The Living Mountain
· William Least Heat Moon, Here, There, Elsewhere
· Steven Pressfield, Do the Work
· Steven Pressfield, Turning Pro
· Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams
· Robert MacFarlane, Landmarks
· Peter Wohlleben, The Hidden Life of Trees
· Hugh Prather, Notes to Myself, 1970
· John Erskine, Sonata, 1923
· Richard Jefferies, After London, 1885, fiction
· Peter Davidson, The Idea of North
· Eliot Weinberger, The Ghosts of Birds
· W.G. Sebald. The Rings of Saturn
· Robert Friedman, The Next 100 Years
· Linda Gratton & Andrew Scott, The 100-Year Life, Living and Working in an Age of Longevity
Saturday, August 19, 2017
|Risking morning in Taos, 5 by 7 watercolor, 140 lb. d'Arches|
"Being myself includes taking risks with myself, taking risks on new behavior--trying new ways of 'being myself,' so that I can see how it is I want to be." --Hugh Prather, Notes to Myself
We live in a world that discourages risk, that wants everything to be safe and secure and successful.
But there is no success if there is no failure, and no failure if you don't take risks. And no excitement in living in a rut of routine and repetition.
I've just read Hugh Prather's Notes to Myself, from 1970, and his aphorisms and insights were just what I needed ...thoughts on living now, being authentic, on being yourself, on pleasing people, on humanity and more.
Out of that book came this painting, taking risks every step we take, every day. My risks include standing up to paint when the spirit is dry, in attempting things I'm afraid of, in trying new things--all part of living changes and "retirement."
A few other snippets from his book that spoke to me:
- "Perfectionism is a slow death."
- "Why do I judge my day by how much I have accomplished?"
- "Dishonest people believe in words rather than reality."
- "There are no absolutes for something so relative as human life."
- "I like a man with faults. To err is human--I;m uncomfortable around gods."
- "If the desire to write is not accompanied by actual wrting, then the desire is not to write."
Saturday, August 12, 2017
|Southwestern Sunset, watercolor, 6" by 11.5", 140 lb. d'Arches|
Today's watercolor, the first of the month after July's daily challenge, comes on a rainy day, when I knew I needed to paint, for me. After a week of "vacation"--minimal writing, no blogging, no painting, but drinking in love and family and landscapes on a 2,500 mile road trip, it was time.
Inspiration is internal. I find it many places, including the broad vistas of my beloved Southwest of rich colors and dry air, in travels, in love, and from my father.
I'd found this old pencil sketch of my Dad's, Terrence Miller Clark, done no telling how many years ago, of something he saw in his road trip travels. He saw beauty everywhere, and he could capture that beauty, in landscape, in portraits, with a talent that stuns me. I'm thankful I have a smidgen of his spirit and soul.
This one's for you, Dad. Thanks. May we one day paint together again.
|Pencil sketch, 3" by 9.5"--Terrence Miller Clark|