A Few Things I Should Know.

Poppy Abstract.

I am always in a great rush. I have been all of my life a person who burns energy like it was going out of fashion. I was giving this some thought this morning as I began to prepare myself for a week of running in the mountains. I love these days but I am also conscious of the fact of the raised level of danger from the normal daily running I do here at home.

I run in the mornings and walk in the afternoon/early evening then fall into bed exhausted to be ready for the next day.  I became very aware of this after reading the blog of Sherry, Conservatively Bohemian.  So I sat down and gave thought, here is the bones of my time of thinking, of what stops me being all I want to be and the artist I dream of being.

I think the first thing is this rushing and trying to fit things into something else I am doing. I plan a walk and set out. During the course of the walk I take out my watercolour box and do a painting, but all the time my mind is on the clock and the time I have yet to walk. The end result is a bad walk and a bad painting. I need to learn that when walking I am walking and when painting I am painting. I need to schedule if I want to do both.

Next. If we continue to repeat a story in our head, we eventually believe that story and embrace it – whether it empowers us or not.  So the question is: Does my story empower me?  Do I place my mistakes in my mind; where their weight may crush my current potential.  Instead, I must place them under my feet and use them as a platform to view the horizon.  I must remember, all things are difficult before they are easy.  What matters the most is what I am starting to do now.

I also need to stop  being  s hard on myself.  There are plenty of people willing to do that for me. I need to do my  best and surrender the rest.  Tell my self, “I am doing the best I can with what I have in this moment.  And that is all I can expect of anyone, including me.”  I need to be proud of everything that I do, even the  mistakes.  Because even mistakes mean I am trying.

Lastly; stop waiting for tomorrow; I will never get today back.  It doesn’t matter what I’ve done in the past.  It doesn’t matter how low or unworthy I feel right now.  The simple fact is that I am alive and that makes me worthy.  Life is too short for excuses.   I have to; Stop settling.  Stop procrastinating.  Start today by taking one courageous step forward.  If I am not sure exactly which way to go, it is always wise to follow my heart.

This blog is linked to my blog  Poppy Abstract

My Bucket Does Not Need Emptying.

 

The Warrior Prepares

I am sure that I have spoken in the past about the bucket of emotions.  I will therefore not labour this tale today just refresh my memory and maybe the memory of others.

I see my life a bit like an emotional bucket, when things are going well it overflows with joy and happiness and this overflow can so easily brighten up the lives of those around. Sadly there are so many people who carry with them the nails of despair. These a re the people who are always ready to create a leak in our buckets and bring us to a state of unhappiness and in some cases even worse, total despair.

Often those people are not aware that they are doing it, other times they know for sure that they are. The people who are always quick to point out when you have made a mistake, even though it was obvious and knew you had made the mistake.

Artists face it all the time. There are always those who are quick to point out small things in a painting they do not like. The painting may well have a million things right but it is the one small thing that is wrong that is pointed out.

More of this on my other blog.

My own bucket has been very empty these last few weeks. It has been leaking badly and I have in the process been difficult to live with I am sure. Slowly it is beginning to fill, as I find ways of trying to bring joy to those around me. I am carrying with my repair patches so that when someone brings along a nail of despair I will quickly patch it over and try to give them happiness in return.

This blog is linked to my other. The Warrior Prepares

The Moments That Make Dreams

The Moments That Make Dreams

There are days when you open you just realise how fortunate you are. When things just go well, or you realise how much you are blessed with good friends. For the artist these days are often linked closely to how the art is progressing. I began to realise this yesterday when I read the email I received from a friend. The email was saying that the person had not really realised how well off they were. It went something like this.

I am so rich, Silver in the Hair, Gold in the teeth. Crystals in the kidneys and sugar in the blood. Lead in the ass and iron in the arteries, and an inexhaustible supply of natural gas. I never thought I could accumulate such wealth.

Anyway back to the serious stuff of yesterday. I was looking at  some pictures of marathons I had run. As I looked I noticed this group of people standing behind the finish line. They were not looking at the finishers. I started to ask myself, what are they saying, what are they thinking and doing. As I thought a picture came to my mind.

I had already started working on a canvas board but was very unhappy with the progress I was making and had washed it off. I went back to the task with my mind now full of new thoughts. Using Platho Blue and White I painted what I could see clearly in my mind.

What appeared on the canvas board was not exactly what I had in my eye but it was very close. I had only used the two colours and I felt it was ok. I took a picture of it while it was still wet. I put a copy of it on Art Wanted and I posted it on my FaceBook page.

Within minutes of it appearing on Facebook I had been made a solid offer for the work. Obviously a person who knows just what they like. This person now owns two of my works. The first was purchased two years ago but I can see the similarities of thought in both works and I feel sure they will fit in the same home.

I was feeling pleased and to add the sugar to the icing I got an email just ten minutes later saying somebody had made my painting a pic of the day.

I never knew I was so rich as the story above says.

Hope you are all well.

The Home Run

I have always laughed when in the village where I live when friends introduce me as the artist. They see me as that, I do not, but it has stuck. It seems though that I am also getting a bit of a name for being the storyteller. There are those, who when they see me in the village, stop me and ask what my story for the day is. I tell them all about my blogging friends and then I have to give them a version of the day’s story or tale. It is amazing how many people still do not have, or wish to have access to the internet.

One of the good things though, is that others then give me a story that I might be able to use or adapt. So I am now also becoming the collector of stories.

Yesterday I was out walking. As I walked I saw notices directing people to a,”Boat Fest.” I did not have a clue what this was but I followed the signs anyway. It turned out to be a meeting of people who had hand built boats. Marvellous works of art. There were craft stalls and all sorts of things. One stall had people smoking haddock in barrels. A local delicacy called, “Arbroath Smokies.” I purchased one and as I sat on the quay to eat it, out of paper, no other way to, a man sat next to me and asked what my story for the day was. He was like me visiting the fest. He then went on to tell me a story that today I am going to share with you because it moved me to tears.

It is an American story and I am leaving it as I was told it. I apologise if my friends over the pond have heard it.

At a fundraising dinner for an American school that serves learning disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

"When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?" The audience was stilled by the query.

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked,” Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play, not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning."

Shay struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field.

Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the head of the first baseman, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first time. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay" Shay reached third base, the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third" As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run home! Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the "grand slam" and won the game for his team.

That day, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world

Why do I like this story? Because it says this to me. That the answer to the fathers question at the beginning is in the story. When something tragic happens in life the tragedy can be made worse by how people respond to it. Here there was an opportunity for all to learn and turn tragedy into victory. It is all down to how we respond.

I am sorry this has been a long post but I thought the story deserved telling and passing on in its entirety.


This blog is linked to my other. Abstract MM1

Dance Like There is No Tomorrow.

I was thinking about the number of people I know who are busy in the queue waiting. No they are not waiting for a train or a bus they are waiting for things to change. if we are all honest we have all stood in that self same queue at one time or another.


We convince ourselves that life will be better after we have left school and university, or it will be better once we get married, have a baby, then another. Then we're frustrated that the children are not old enough and we'll be more content when they are. Later, we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We'll certainly be happy when they're out of that stage.

We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together, when we get a nicer car, or we get into the house we have dreamed about, are able to go on a nice vacation, when we retire.

The truth is, there's no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when? Too late to be happy yesterday and tomorrow well not a lot we can do about that until it comes.

Your life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway.

One of my favourite quotes comes from Alfred D. Souza. He said, "For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, or a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life."

This perspective has helped me to see that there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So, treasure every moment that you have and treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, and they were prepared to share it with you, special enough to spend your time with...and remember that time waits for no one.

So, stop waiting until you finish school, until you go to university, until you lose ten pounds, until you gain ten pounds, until you have kids, until your kids leave the house, until you start work, until you retire, until you get married, until you get divorced, until Friday night, until Sunday morning, until you get a new car or home, until your car or home is paid off, until spring, until summer, until autumn, until winter, until the first or fifteenth, until YOUR song comes on, until you've had a drink, until you've sobered up, until you die, until you're born again, until whatever excuse you can think of to decide that there is no better time than right now to be happy.

How many times as an artist I have waited till I got the correct colour the correct canvas. The number of times I have waited for the right moment or the right feeling. As I have said so many times on this blog the time for waiting is over.

Happiness is a journey, not a destination.

Oh and just to get you started the lady waiting for the bus. Let me tell you about her. She was wanting to go to visit a special art gallery. She asked a policeman how to get there. he told her to wait at the bus stop and catch the 46. Two hours later he passed again she was still there. He asked her why she was not at her gallery. She told him not to worry she would get there soon the 42nd bus had just passed so only four to go.

Happiness is a journey not a destination or waiting for it to arrive.

This is the way of the Tao.



This blog is linked to my Other.  Home From The Sea

The Blind Leading the Blind

I have told you about my friend Andy and his wonderful guide dog Eddie. I was reminded of a story he once told me. While I was on holiday, I visited a lovely little village, called Soamo. It was not far from the caravan park and a number of other caravan parks and yet seemed to remain undiscovered by tourists. A little haven for locals. It had a little inn serving local produce and a fine ale. I loved to finish my afternoon walk or cycle sitting there in the sun watching the locals at their day to day business.


One day I watched an old lady very very slowly walk past. She was using two walking sticks and was moving with difficulty. It was three in the afternoon and she was still wearing her dressing gown and night clothes. She did this walk every day at around about this time, determined not to let frailty beat her. I was told she dressed for evening meal after this adventure.

Another day I watched an old man cycle up to the inn, nothing odd about that. He got off his cycle with difficulty laid it against the wall and unstrapped two crutches which he used to walk into the inn with. The innkeeper then came out and took the basket from his cycle and un loaded the vegetables the old man had gathered from his allotment.

Two amazing people showing a determination not to be defeated by age.

Now back to Andy. Eddie his dog was having an operation on a small cyst. Andy determined not to be kept at home ventured out. He tells how he was standing on the kerbstone of a busy road hoping somebody would offer to take him over. There was a tap on his back. Then a voice said, “I am blind would you help me over the road?”

Andy took his arm and the both crossed the road safely I think Andy sensed my amazement, he said, “What could I d? I took him across the road it was one of the biggest thrills of my life.

There are times when we think we cannot do something and so do not stretch or take a risk. Being forced to stretch and take a risk can often help us to reduce our dependencies (on others, or our own personal safety mechanisms), and to discover new excitement and capabilities. Also with the things we do, it pays to take risks to venture beyond the unknown.

What awaits? The biggest thrill of your life.

This is the way of the Tao.

This blog is linked to my other where I discuss the artwork used. The Jazzman

Facing the Unexpected

Let me begin today by saying how overwhelmed I was to discover so many of you still here and reading my blog. I was so sure I would have to begin again taking time to meet all my friends on blogger. It was such a joy to have so many comments made on my first day back. Thanks to all of you. I would also like to take just a minute to say thanks to Jerry who emailed me once or twice and I am so happy to see you are still so positive and sounding so well. Glad you are through the chemo and you are as ever in my thoughts.


Now I am aware that there is nothing more boring that other peoples holiday tales but let me share this with you. Each day I ran first thing in the morning. I went the same route each day, unlike me I usually love to explore new routes. I went the same way for a reason. The run ended each day with the unexpected and a bit of excitement. Even at my age I love that.

I ran through a little village about a mile or so from the caravan park then headed into the nature park. There I ran a small track which eventually passed over a small wall path with water each side. Halfway along there was a small mill operated by the water. This part was tidal so gave me a hint at the possible ending of my run.

Having left the wildlife park I headed towards a village called Isla. A long uphill road led to the village dropping back down to the sea. Here was the fun part. Only when I arrived here did I know what the last part of the run would be. If the tide was fully in it meant a fairly long swim over to the beach by the caravan park. If it was coming in or going out it meant either a wade in strong currants, and that could be exciting. If it was fully out then just a small paddle and a further long run along the firm beach.

People thought I was mad, and they were probably correct about that. There was always the other alternative about turning and retracing my route backwards.

How like life and art is that? Some days life and painting can be a paddle other days it can be a hard wade making you feel like giving up. At other times there might be the difficult but possible swim against the tide. Maybe, just maybe sometimes we have to backtrack and do a rethink.

This is in fact the way of Tao. We have to take risks sometimes but we must always go with what our heart tells us is right.



I am going to add some new thoughts to the painting I put on my other blog connected to the thoughts I have here.

This blog is linked to my other. Motion and Emotion

The Elephant and the Flea.

The master came into the room and looked out at his assembled students. He looked at the expectant faces and wondered just what he could say that would be of great value to them. He had just arisen from a sleepless night wondering about the very same thing.


He sat at the front of the room on a cushion, and again looked at his students. There was an expectant hush. The master, usually in a very few words lifted them with something to think about.

The silence was broken by a student standing up and drawing the eye of the master. “Master,” said the student, “what exactly is enlightenment?”

The master produced a banana, peeled it, and started eating. "Is that all? Can't you show me anything else?" the student said. "Come closer, please," the master replied. The student moved in and the master waved the remaining portion of the banana before the student's face. The student prostrated, and left.

A second student rose to address the audience. "Do you all understand?" When there was no response, the student added, "You have just witnessed a first-rate demonstration of enlightenment. Are there any questions?"

After a long silence, someone spoke up. "Master, I am not satisfied with your demonstration. You have shown us something that I am not sure I understand. It must be possible to TELL us what enlightenment is."

"If you must insist on words," the master replied, "then enlightenment is an elephant copulating with a flea."

There are just some things in life that cannot be explained in words. It is at this point the artist is challenged to show. Somebody wrote of one of my paintings yesterday, “This painting makes me think, the texture gives a longing to be touched. It has an ancient Ariel view about it. Good work…. very good work! Five Stars.

That it made the viewer think is enough for me never mind the stars. This is the way of Tao.



This blog is linked to my other  Samadhi

Banishing the Ghost

We talk often, we artist of the dreaded painters block. I have been so grateful to all the friends I have met on here who have offered such support during my longest ever non productive spell. Now I am not just talking about painting. The same has happened to me in the past in my time of making music. When a tune buzzed around in my head but I could not get it out. Or another time while writing poetry and the words just would not come.


I remember a real classic moment of block, thank goodness the shortest ever. I was conducting a Sunday morning service. Easy enough you would think, considering I did it some times six times on a Sunday. There I was in full flight leading the congregation in prayer. I never wrote my services or sermons just short notes. I came to that point where the congregation joined in with the Lords Prayer. Halfway though it I could not remember the next line. I looked up to see about 900 pairs of eyes looking at me in silence. Not one person thought to just keep going. Then in unison we continued, the block gone.

Here is a little tale of the man who banished his block.

The wife of a man became very sick. On her deathbed, she said to him, "I love you so much! I don't want to leave you, and I don't want you to betray me. Promise that you will not see any other women once I die, or I will come back to haunt you."

For several months after her death, the husband did avoid other women, but then he met someone and fell in love. On the night they were engaged to be married, the ghost of his former wife appeared to him. She blamed him for not keeping the promise, and every night thereafter she returned to taunt him. The ghost would remind him of everything that transpired between him and his fiancé that day, even to the point of repeating, word for word, their conversations. It upset him so badly that he couldn't sleep at all.

Desperate, he sought the advice of the master. "This is a very clever ghost," the master said upon hearing the man's story. "It is!" replied the man. "She remembers every detail of what I say and do. It knows everything!" The master smiled, "You should admire such a ghost, but I will tell you what to do the next time you see it."

That night the ghost returned. The man responded just as the master had advised. "You are such a wise ghost," the man said, "You know that I can hide nothing from you. If you can answer me one question, I will break off the engagement and remain single for the rest of my life." "Ask your question," the ghost replied. The man scooped up a handful of beans from a large bag on the floor, "Tell me exactly how many beans there are in my hand."

At that moment the ghost disappeared and never returned.

A case of know yourself, the master knew that the ghost was the ghost of his own creation.

Oh, the picture at the top is a picture of the strange ghost that resides in my head. No matter what I do I cannot seem to banish him.


This blog is linked to my other blog  Pendo

The Greedy Artist

There is a story of a famous artist who painted marvellous paintings, but only on commission. He never ever painted just for the love of painting. His paintings were very popular and he was able to demand a high price in advance for the work he did.


One day a Geisha contacted him asking him to paint for her. Unknown to the artist it was her intention to show him up for what he was. He saw that she was wealthy, so he demanded a high price. The price was agreed on one condition, that the painting was completed in her presence, so a date was agreed.

On the day of the painting he arrived to find that she had invited many wealthy guests. He set up his easel and as they watched he painted. After some hours the painting was completed and he stood back pleased with his work. The geisha as promised paid him the agreed amount. She then turned to all her guests and said, “This artist only paints for money, his work is fine but his mind is dirty; money has caused it to become muddy. Painted by such a muddy mind, his work is not fit to exhibit, it fit only for my petticoat.”

She then removed her kimono and showed the artist her petticoat. She asked him to paint another painting on it. He in turn asked her how much money she would pay. After bartering a high price was agreed. The painting was completed and paid for. “See,” said the geisha, “His only concern is the price. Leave, artist, you have been shown for what you are.”

Many years later it was learned that where the artist came from there had been a famine. The artist had been paying for corn to feed the village. The rich had ignored the plight of the hungry.

The road from the village was in a very poor state and many of the villagers had accidents while travelling to the temple to meditate. He had repaired the road.

His Zen master had died without accomplishing his desire to build a school for his students. The artist built the school.

Once he had done all of these things he discarded all his art materials and lived the quiet life.

Sometimes before we judge a person we need to discover their motives. It is often the actions of the heart that matter more than the actions of the hands. The hardest question of all my years has been the question, “Do I want to be loved, or do I want to love?” Before I depart this earth I hope I find the answer.

This is the way of the Tao.

This Blog is linked to my other where the artwork is discussed:-

 
Along the Shore Triptych

Clowns and Self

When I was a boy I heard an interview of a very famous clown. He was being asked about his act and what he found the scariest part about his performance. The interviewer, equally famous, went through all the things the clown did, from falling off tightropes to what seemed dangerous things he did with a car that fell apart. The clown described all of those in detail and told of the amount of practice that went into getting the timing correct so that none of the performers were hurt. “So,” asked the interviewer again, “what is the scariest?” The clown thought for a moment and then said, “When the act is over and I have to take off the face paint and be myself again.” he revealed that when not working he suffered from severe depression and found it hard to live with himself.


A student had studied under his master for ten years. At the end of this period of time he was sure that he had learned much about himself and how to control his life and find the peace and happiness he sought. He went to visit his master to declare this to him and to tell him he was now going to begin teaching others what he had learned. “Ah,” said the master. “Tell me when you came in did you leave your shoes and umbrella at the door?” “Yes I did,” said the student. “Did you leave the umbrella to the left of the shoes or to the right?” The student then realised he still had much to learn about self awareness.

I had a feeling I had lost something and looked around my study and workroom. As I did so I became aware of the clutter and so began to tidy things up, bring some order to the chaos. As I did so I played some music, a selection I had made of tunes I enjoyed listening to. As I worked one piece caught my attention. I stopped what I was doing and went to my computer. There I put on the same music and I opened the folder of pictures of my abstract paintings. I studied the one that I had painted one day as I listened to this very music.

Once the music was over, I closed the folder and went back to the task in hand. It was then that I realised that I had found what I had lost. I had found again the desire to paint. It had left me but I had found it again in the midst of creating order from my chaos.

Self awareness is never easy. Without it we allow ourselves to be thrown this way and that by what happens around us. So sometimes what we create is not as good as we had hoped, sometimes it is better. The important thing is to be able to know and to be honest with ourselves. I walked along the coastal path for a bit yesterday and all the old feelings were back I had indeed found myself.

Such is the way of Tao.

The artwork used in theis blog is commented on in my other blog which can be seen at:-Highland Gathering

Youth, Age and the Journey.

I have spoken of it before but I repeat. I remember when I thought my parents knew nothing. My father worked as a painter in a shipyard and my mother well she was just my mother. What could they know that I already did not know? It was later, with wisdom, that I knew the truth. My father had not ended up there because he had no brains but because he had eight brothers and sisters and a father who was a coal miner. At the age of fourteen he had to leave school to play his part in earning money to put food on the table. My mothers’ father had been killed in the war and her mother (my grandmother, who strangely I thought knew everything) had struggled to raise two girls in difficult times so she had left school to work in the jute mills of Dundee.


When we grow older it is easy to look at youth and remember when we were just like them. The next step is to wish that we could go back there and take with us the knowledge we have gained over the years. To have the fire of youth and the wisdom of age seems such an attractive proposition. The trouble is we would be aware of all the pain that cannot be avoided. We would be aware of exactly what was ahead in terms of the ageing process. To know there would come a time when I was still fit enough to run up the stairs but to then stand and wonder why I was there.

When I was teaching I looked at the young and became aware of how far they yet had to travel. I saw the adventure, the excitement the new possibilities with the speed of modern development. They as yet did not have the scars and the pains of life. Thankfully they were also blissfully unaware of the journey before them. When I see a baby in a pram I feel all of this, but I also worry of what lies ahead if we older ones do not start behaving differently in terms of our planet.

Life is indeed a journey and we are all at different stages of that journey. What is yet to come is a mystery. We all have greater wisdom that we did in our younger years. But there is still the mystery, that mystery brings with it a sanity we would not have if we knew the future.

The artist is aware of the world with its pains and it joys, its beauty and its disgrace. We have an inner urge to share this with others through our chosen mediums, and we are fortunate in that we have the ability to do just that. We also have an obligation to share it with others. The young may look at the older and wonder what if anything they have to teach but we strive to express in art what we do indeed know. We do not paint only for our own pleasure but to share the gained insight of the years. We also know that the young will one day be the elders and what we have taught them will begin to bear fruit. So we do not share in vain.

This is the way of Tao.

The Golfer and the Art of Seeing

A golfer was playing the last hole of his local golf course. The hole wasone with a long fairway that ran alongside a fairly busy road. He teed up his ball and took up his stance then  played his shot, but unfortunately he hit the ball off in the wrong direction. The ball flew off to the left over the fence and towards the road. Just at that moment a car was climbing the hill, the ball struck the front pane and the driver in shock swung to the right far too sharply. The car rolled over and another car coming down the hill could not avoid. There was an almighty collision. Both drivers were injured.


The golfer ,made his way clubhouse a very worried man. He saw the club captain and approached him to speak with him. He explained in detail what had happened and asked the captain what he should do now. The captain thought for a minute and then said, “If you just adjust your grip a bit further round the club handle that should solve your problem.”

Is it not amazing that two people looking at the same situation,or for the artist the same viewpoint, and yet both see it completely differently. It never fails to amaze me how the same scenery can be depicted in so many different ways. There are those who strive to show every blade of grass and those who hardly show anything at all yet capture the whole scene with just a few strokes of the brush or the pastel.

We will all as artists know which it is that best suits our style. That being said I think art is like life, the simpler we keep it the easier it is. As the ancient sage said, “Why try to climb over the boulder in the middle of the river when it is possible to swim round it and go with the current. I am always in awe when I look at so many works of art that capture an atmosphere and the scene, I am full of envy and long to be able to do the same.  Whether it is a detailed painting or an atmospheric interpretation the ones that seem to grip are those where we can see the heart of the artist.

If we are painitng, sculpting or creating just because we have to meet deadlines or fulfil commissions do we have time to put our hearts into the work? I frequently consider not doing any commissions for this very reason. How do others cope? Would love to hear your suggestions.

Blogging, Cycling and The art of Experiencing Life

It seems that the number of people Blogging is decreasing. The reason for this decrease it seems it that percentages, a growing percentage, of students prefer to use social networking sites to leave short messages. Reading it seems is not fun. This is at a time when the number of young people continuing in full time education is growing rapidly. This little piece of information came at a time when I was noticing the number of people appearing on television quiz shows claiming to be students could not answer simple everyday questions. One yesterday asked about the name of the Russian President responsible for the breakdown of the Iron Curtain given his first name answered Lenin. Probably the only Russian leader the person knew.


This is not a new phenomenon. I was aware while teaching that the number of families never watching news broadcasts was increasing. The head of the school I worked in at an open day revealed that she never bothered with news or newspapers she preferred to start her day listening to an inane morning television show. I find this worrying because it goes hand in hand with a large decrease in the number of people using their democratic right to put their cross on a paper. The reason given when asked is, “All politicians are the same it does not make a difference.” Well it is an argument, but not a valid one for letting the country be run by the so called morons. I suppose when they then go on to cheat on the finances for their own benefit we deserve what we don’t vote for.

It seems if it is not fun now it has no value. When I was part of education I watched it year on year being dumbed down to ensure more students left with a certificate. The learning process has to be made “fun”. The number of times students would say to me, “Mr T. your no wanting us to write today are you, writing isnae fun Mr. T”.

What concerns me deeply is the knowledge that the things in life that have given me the greatest sense of joy and achievement was not always fun along the way until we arrived. Think of a painting. The preparing of the canvas for me is never fun. There are always times during the creative process I want to throw a stomp. The cleaning up at the end is far from fun. All of this pales though when you see the finished work., and all the emotions that come when somebody wants to own it and give it space in their life. A friend was telling me of her learning to ride her first bicycle made up from bits from a scrap yard. I can see her learning to ride it; I am willing to bet there were times when that were not fun either. But once she had a sense of balance it led to a feeling of freedom she had never experienced before.

No, not all reading is fun. Not all learning is fun. But if we do not have the less fun times how can we ever fully experience real wonder? In fact in this day and age of instant everything when fun is the goal it seems to be there is less joy around than ever.

It was written in the 6th century BC, To know yet to think that one does not know is best; Not to know and think that one knows will lead to difficulty. It is by being alive to difficulty that one can avoid it.


Can I say at that this blog never ever sets out to upset or offend but to open up routes for discussion. Ralph

When is a Painting a Painting?

I was working on an abstract. I had added texture and the first layer of colour. This was most of day one. Then I had a converstation with a person about one of my very very early paintings. She liked it. I had already reused the canvas so that painting was no more. But that conversation influenced me and I found myself reusing the colours and the thoughts. The new work is not at layer four of paint and I am just not sure what I should do to complete it. I hope somenody today says something to me that makes me decide. I have included a rough picture of the present state will be interesting for me to be able to compare this with the end result.

To be noticed makes you feel good.

Yesterday I finished an abstract work my first attempt at mixed media. It can be seen on my website http://www.ralphgarageart.com I did not know what to call it so just left it as Abstract MM1. It created many comments from fellow artists and so I feel encouraged to go further down this route. What really surprised me most was a really good artist,Olga van Dijk, has asked if she can use my work as an example to show are students next week. What a boost. So what am I saying I am saying that it is a good thing to put your work where it may well be criticised only because it only take one real good comment to lift you to a new desire to paint.