New Ways New Days

The son of a master thief asked his father to teach him the secrets of the trade. The old thief agreed and that night took his son to burglarize a large house. While the family was asleep, he silently led his young apprentice into a room that contained a clothes closet. The father told his son to go into the closet to pick out some clothes. When he did, his father quickly shut the door and locked him in. Then he went back outside, knocked loudly on the front door, thereby waking the family, and quickly slipped away before anyone saw him. Hours later, his son returned home, bedraggled and exhausted. "Father," he cried angrily, "Why did you lock me in that closet? If I hadn't been made desperate by my fear of getting caught, I never would have escaped. It took all my ingenuity to get out!" The old thief smiled. "Son, you have had your first lesson in the art of burglary."


Fingers had learned his “art” at the foot of a master. His father had been a thief almost all of his life and Fingers was now at that point where he was in prison for the first time. He could go out and return to his ways or make a change.

The clay, what became of it? In the next few weeks it became a horse tethered to a gypsy caravan made by another prisoner from bits of off takes of wood from the prison workshop. The caravan was all fitted out and even had little lights in it. The Clydesdale horse yoked to it was the finishing touches. The two prisoners gave it to me as a gift and it stood on the top landing windowsill of the manse and was commented on by all who saw it.

Fingers made many more marvellous sculptures and on leaving prison he continued to sculpt. His work sold and I saw it in more than one art exhibition. He turned his back on the sacred art of stealing and never returned to the prison life. He realised that there were better things that can be done with his talent.

The last I heard of him he was happily married with a family. One way and another I lost touch with him when he moved to USA to set up home there. I know this blog is read in the USA so if you are out there Fingers, get in touch would so love to hear how you are doing.

I have promised Jerry that I will devote one blog to the questions he asked in a comment yesterday tomorrow I will do that. I will introduce you to the “Doc.”

This Blog is linked to my other where I discuss the artwork used here:- Autumn Waterclour

Arthur Not Of The Round Table

It was a lovely sunny day and a great many people of the village had gathered on the grassland park at the end of the village. At the lower end of the grassland stood a foundry that had been there for a great many years making iron cast mouldings. The moulding were intricate and of a very high quality. One such was a metal representation of, “The Last Supper” by Leonardo da Vinci. The life of the foundry was coming to an end. The people had gathered to watch the demolition of the chimney stack. As I gathered them to await the moment that would mark the beginning of the end I was approached by a man who introduced himself to me as simply Arthur. We began to speak and I soon realised this had not been an accidental meeting. Arthur had wanted to “bump into” me for some time he said. He explained that he was an ex police officer who had ruined his life with alcohol. He was now a recovered alcoholic and getting himself back on the road of life.


He was wondering if I could help him in one or two ways. He wanted to start a local meeting of alcoholics anonymous, and he wondered if he and I could together set up a help group. This was to be the start of an interesting part of my ministry. At one point we even had an old ambulance parked at the back of the church that could offer instant overnight accommodation. That is for another time.

Arthur used to tell a story of how his life had changed. He had lost his job in the police and was in danger of losing his wife and family. It was a Friday night he had been drinking all day and certainly was not in a state to return home. No taxi driver wanted him in their cabs. He along with another drunk decided to spend the night in a cheap hostel. When he was given a couple of blankets he was shown into a large room full of people in the same state as him. He told of the terrible smell of the place. He looked around and said to the man lying on an old mattress, “You can’t get much lower than this can you?” The old drunk looked at him and said, “Another six feet lower son.” Arthur tells how that night he cried himself to sleep. The next morning he headed home and from that day he had never had another drink of alcohol. Together we had an interesting time and because of him there are marriages that would not have survived now happy and lasting, lives restored.

Often when I feel that things are at a low ebb and nothing seems to be going right for me. Those times when I want to throw the paint and easel in the bin. When I produce nothing I am happy with, or as has been the case I have been unable to stand long enough to paint, I remember Arthurs story and give myself time to reflect. Yes it could be a lot worse.

This blog is linked to my other blog where I discuss the artwork:- Happy days and Holidays

Time Change

I am aware that it does not happen in every country but twice a year we change the clocks, either back one hour or forward one hour. It is easy to remember which way it goes with the little reminder, “spring forward, fall back.” So this weekend in the UK it goes forward one hour. This happened first during the First World War it had to do with blackout time. Like so many things it has stayed the same ever since. Each year there is the discussion about whether it happen or should or not. There are all the arguments about children going to school in safety and farmers getting more daylight hours. All of it seems a bit odd to me because no matter what we do with the clocks and no matter what the arguments are it is different in Scotland than in London where the decision is made.


There is a story of the monastery cat. The monastery had a pet cat who did not like silence very much. So every time the monks went into their daily periods of silent meditation the cat would come into the temple and make all kinds of noises to the distraction of the monks. It was decided that during these time the cat should be tethered outside the temple for the duration of the times. This worked well and the cat was repaid with extra attention by the monk who tied and untied her. He always had a special nibble for her at those times. The cat lived to a ripe old age seeing off many of the monks. When she died she was buried in the grounds of the monastery. The monks got a new cat, and at meditation times it was tethered. Nobody wondered if it would be like the cat before they had just always done it that way. As the years rolled on each cat in succession was tethered and people used to try and work out why this was so and what significant meaning it had.

I remember when I was minister in a church with a much crowed chancel area. There were two rows either side of the chancel where seldom did anybody sit. When I suggested removing them I was told we could not, they had always been there. Certain people had once sat there. One person even said she remembered her grandmother sitting there, even though she herself was now a grandmother. After much deliberation the seats were removed and the chancel opened up. The space became so much more versatile and worship was enhanced in so many ways. Now it is just accepted that is how that building is, few remember it as it was before.

It is so easy to get stuck in ruts, but to break free now and then opens the doors to creativity. Paint something different, write something in a new genre try new things and find new meaning. You might even find a new you.

This is the way of Tao

Apologies if there are errors in this blog today yesterday I was washing my caravan and fell from the roof. Today I find myself in extreme pain. This was written butt not checked. I have managed to put it online before crawling back to bed. So sorry I will not be viewing blogs today will miss doing so.

This blog is linked to my other where I discuss the artwork used. :-The passage of Time

New Beginnings and Opportunities

There is not a single person I know who has not got regrets about the past. If you have no regrets then you are either too young to realise it or you have lived a very sheltered life. Life is scattered with missed opportunities and the things we wished we had done differently. The reality is though that there is not always a lot we can do about it.

The amazing thing about being an artist and by that I mean all those who are involved in art at whatever level. From the person who occasionally takes their watercolour pad on holiday and makes some holiday sketches to the person who paints most days a week. Yes there are those who paint almost every day. I do not paint every, but on the days I don’t I usually find same way of getting myself into my paint area. I make the excuse that I have brushes that need cleaning paint pots that need tidied away. Then there is the pastel dust I have collected to be remade into pastels, new and sometime exciting colours. I just like to keep up acquaintances with my materials and tools. The amazing thing is this.

Art always gives you another chance. There is always another sheet of watercolour paper or another canvas. If the last painting turned out to be a disaster and you feel you failed then you have the opportunity to this time succeed. If the last one was a tremendous success then you still get another opportunity to reach the heights of joy yet again. There is always another moment that you want to get down. There is another scene that is calling you and just has to be painted.

Consider this, if you have always painted using oils or watercolour you could try something else another medium something that forces you to look again and consider the project a new way. This of course is not just so for artists it is equally true for so many aspects of life.

You get a chance to forget the past, a chance not to worry about the future, a chance to grasp the present and live it to the full. Think about it. How often in life do we get so many chances to do it again to succeed even in the face of failure. It does not rain forever there are always more sunny days to come.

Cut Fingers, Music and Life Changing Moments.

Having suffered a spell of painters block has given me much time to reflect. The positive side of this is that it has reinforced the idea that such times are often the moments of change and from the empty low points comes the next stage of creativity. I remember one just such moment in my life that did in fact become life changing. As readers of this blog know I started out as a butcher and working in a slaughterhouse. Not the most intellectually taxing job on the planet. But then I had been told that I was not one of life’s intellectuals. Well after a number of years getting through and getting by with playing in a band some evenings and working during the day. Making and spending too much money on pursuits that could only lead to disaster came two events that were to change my life. The first was just a simple cut finger.


I had cut my finger badly and had to go to hospital to have it stitched. So with a towel wrapped round it I presented myself at accident and emergency. I was told to go and sit in the waiting area and to keep the finger raised as much as possible and I would be attended to soon. After a bit a lady appeared with a mop and pail. She asked if I could move to another seat while she mopped up the blood dripping from my elbow. I waited. Some time later a nurse came and asked me what I was waiting for. Well. I am waiting for that bit floor over there to dry was my response. The finger was stitched but I had made up my mind there and then that I was finished with the playing silly it was time to have a rethink about my life.

At the same time a new minister had arrived in my home town. Now that was not something that interested me, having been brought up by a father who was positively anti-religion. This minister came to visit me. Brave man really. After putting up with my tirade against religion we started to talk. It turned out he was a real wonderful guy. Deeply caring, and with a head full of good thoughts and great ideas. It seemed he had a group of young people writing new hymns. Trouble was he said they could not write music, “Would I consider giving them just a little of my time to help them?” Life changing moment. It was not to be too much later I was to head off to Iona a little Island off the coast of Scotland. But that is for another day and another time.

For today my thought is this. That the low and the bleak times should never been seen as the end in themselves. They can so easily become the turning points, the beginning of something better. Somebody made a comment that I knew nothing about art. They were right I do not. This much I do know though it has become very much a part of my life and has given me a motive to get up in the morning and to rejoice that I still seem to be able to bring some joy to the lives of others. So here is to all the painters blocks taking place right now. May they be life changing moments that go on to enhance the world of art. When I was a minister of religion I used to call these moments, “Dark nights of the soul”. What could we invent for the painters block, because it sounds more like something for beheading that the birth of new creativity? Has anybody go any suggestions? I have started to call my block moments my, “Moments under the rainbow.” I apologise for this little meander this morning, but it has been good to reflect back.

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