Ink Cuneiform

This is my Cuneiform Epitaph. Scratches on clay the remnants of lives, tiny sparks that winked brightly and then went out; time consuming the present moment by moment, Langoliers following closely behind, watching for scraps and pouncing on wasted time. When flesh grows cold, and entropy consumes blood, bones, and essence leaving nothing for the… Continue reading Ink Cuneiform

An Offering Of Pearlescent Debris

Sawgrass riptide, silicate crystals smeared across my toes, the pressed down deepened holes in the burning white, where I run down to the harder pressed darker expanse of shallow sea.   There are gulls on the edges vision, screeching, diving, salty spray of feathers, darting, running, scattering sandpipers leave tiny scratches on the hard-packed sandy horizon.… Continue reading An Offering Of Pearlescent Debris

A Poem For Summer.

I put a poem in the inside of every new moleskine I buy. I put this poem from Tennyson in the moleskine I used for the most chaotic, upsetting and exciting year of my life. (4-2014 to 3-2015) An incredible number of things happened to me and my family during that time, and this poem… Continue reading A Poem For Summer.

To The Woods – Thoreau

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. -Henry David Thoreau

Creativity Is A Resource More Than A Muscle.

I have lived with the idea that creativity is a muscle that increases in strength the more you use it. I imagined that it was something that I could improve with time, as I kept making more art and refining my technique, perhaps creative ideas would flow liberally and this would be an upward spiral… Continue reading Creativity Is A Resource More Than A Muscle.

Molars Of Time

The morning sun low on the horizon, riding my bike early in the spring; while the northern leaves are still un-budded, and the grip of an icy winter is still fresh in the mind. I used to ride my bike to the local “Tim Hortons” bake shop and Coffee shop when I had the time,… Continue reading Molars Of Time

Published
Categorized as Travel

Richard Proenneke quote

“There is always a sadness about packing. I guess you wonder if where you’re going is as good as where you’ve been.” -Richard Proenneke -One Man’s Wilderness

Granular

Scratching granular across the page; ink attaching at the molecular layer to mush paper fibers, bleeding at the feathers into the next line. Dusty sharp pen scrawls push scent smells up and into my memories. Proust has nothing on mould, pens, papers and forget his damn madeleines. Candles flickering at the corners of the page, dim… Continue reading Granular

Time Is Money

Time Is Money, Time Is Life, Therefore Money = Life Spend your money wisely. How much is your time worth? Each one of us sells ourselves every working day of our lives, you sell little bits of your life to your employer every day you go to work. How much is your life worth? The… Continue reading Time Is Money

Winsor & Newton Bijou Box: My Review After 6 Years Of Ownership

The Winsor And Newton Bijou box is an exquisite objet d’art, I find pleasure in simply owning this little jewel of a watercolor set. It is made by a UK art supply company and is rather hard to obtain in the USA, so i had this one shipped from London many years ago. If comes… Continue reading Winsor & Newton Bijou Box: My Review After 6 Years Of Ownership

Self Identity

Identity “What do you do?” This is a question for which I have no answer. I get asked this often, and it is the prerennial american question, we are defined by what we do. We are our jobs. I don’t have an answer because I don’t get my identity from my job description, I don’t… Continue reading Self Identity

The Void

There is that which can not be understood; a sharply defined realm of the unknown, our minds touch upon this secret only fleetingly. In a moment of self reflection and lucidity, there can only be silence of the soul. When the mind is free from any shadows of fear or lingering nightmare; then and only… Continue reading The Void