"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.
Showing posts with label Erica Jong. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Erica Jong. Show all posts

Thursday, January 21, 2010

January books

January books...completed: Rilke's "Letters to a young poet," Erica Jong's "Seducing the Demon, Writing for my Life." and "Hillerman's Landscape, " by Hillerman and Strel, just completed. Three this year... y tu?

More on the Hillerman book soon. I know where Susan and I will be traveling this year. Into the land of the dine'.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Capricorn days



A year for spontaneity, not just mechanical planning which drains creativity of its life force, imprisoning the muse behind bars of expectations and rules, raping art and life of joy.

This painting came from frustration of trying too hard last night. Three attempts at a mountain cabin scene got worse and worse. Micromanaging the details, and not getting "flow" as Erica Jong writes in her book on writing, "Seducing the Demon." I was  trying to paint because I felt I had to. If this old first-born Capricorn--who has now been around the sun 66 times--should have learned anything in these years, it's that you can't control everything, you're not in charge, relax. My best paintings are when I let go. The best parts of my paintings are the skies, when the painting is loose and free. Last night, I was not having fun. Simon and Garfunkel popped into my head--they're never far away these days--and I thought, "let's try something."
From a previous post: "I will find the way I'm going by going."

"Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

"In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone... .

"And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence"

-Simon and Garfunkel