A Mute Troubadour

Speaking My Soul's Silences

Monday, November 28, 2005

My First Ever Meme, Really!

I found this meme over at Pat’s. It’s the first time I’ve ever done a meme; but there’s something I liked about this one. That it’s an acrostic maybe? Anyway, here goes:

A is for Age: 52, but just days away from 53.
B is for Booze: Not anymore.
C is for Career: I’m an ordained Elder in the United Methodist Church, but went on incapacity leave 2 ½ years ago. I don’t really want to “run” a church anymore, so I’m looking for other ways to be and do the work of a pastor.
D is for Dad’s name: William, which is my middle name.
E is for Essential items to bring to a party: Food.
F is for Favorite song or music: Music is the air my soul breaths. No favorite song or music, though I tend to play Blues and Rock.
G is for Goof off thing to do: Reading, watching movies on DVD.
H is for Hometown: Indianapolis, IN, where I was born, reared, and lived for 27 years. I grew up in Broad Ripple Village, and really can't imagine living anywhere else in the Indy area. I've even found a house there, which I doubt will be available when we're able to move; it's too perfect: right in heart of Ripple. BR is an arts center and has the reputation of being a hippie haven. Back in the late 60's and early 70's this was very true -- headshops abounded. These days there are more night clubs and resturants, but still a thriving music and art scene. Currently I reside in Newtonsville, OH, but will be moving back to Indy within the next 6-9 months.
I is for Instrument you play: Guitar (electric and acoustic), autoharp, mouth harp, a bit of banjo and mandolin.
J is for Jam or Jelly you like: Grape and apple jelly, and applebutter, which is kind of a jam, isn't it? I mean, when you think about it?
K is for Kids: Two sons, one about to graduate from college, the other from high school.
L is for Living arrangement: My wife, youngest son, and a cat, all in a small house in a village in southern Ohio.
M is for Mom’s name: Francis Marybelle. She goes by Mary. *Can’t imagine why*
N is for Name of best friend: My wife, Linda.
O is for Overnight Stay in a Hospital: Several; the last time for a bout of pneumonia.
P is for Phobias: Having to climb or stand on ladders.
Q is for Quote you like: Hmmm…I have quite a few, but my current favorite is one from Anne Lamont: “Everyone has been having a hard time with life this year; not with all of it, just the waking hours.”
R is for Relationship that lasted longest: That would be with Linda. We’ve been friends since we were 8 and have been married for 32 years.
S is for Siblings: A sister and a brother, both younger.
T is for Texas, ever been?: Yes, indeed. San Antonio is one of my very favorite places on earth. Last time I was there, I stayed at the Menger Hotel. My room overlooked the Alamo. I’ve been fascinated by the battle of the Alamo since I was a kid, so it was thrilling having a room overlooking the spot where two of my childhood heroes, Jim Bowie and Davey Crockett, fought and died. Oh, yeah, and the Menger had this unbelievable breakfast deal: a steak, hash browns, toast, eggs, bacon, a cup of fresh fruit, and coffee for $5.95!
U is for Unique trait: Perfect pitch.
V if for vegetable you love: Fresh corn-on-the-cob slathered with butter and lightly seasoned with salt and pepper.
W is for Worst traits: Impatience and an occasionally explosive temper -- well, I am a firesign, after all (see Z).
X- is for X-rays you’ve had: Lots.
Y is for Yummy food you make: I love to cook. Mexican and Chinese, along with barbeque, roasts, and meatballs (Hawaiian, Italian, and Swedish -- I'm quite cosmopolitan when it comes to meatballs :-)).
Z is for Zodiac sign: Sagittarius.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

apocalypse

i innocently
naively
dangerously
believe that
you know
what you’re doing
because you say so

you say that you do

i enter here
you’re already there
you mistake my surprise
for sympathy
but every look
has two meanings

three on a cloudy day

wind blown words
whirling leaves
miles of sky
empty trees
frost on my windshield
(november’s soul
is a ruby sun
falling in the western sky)

oh yes, you were there
and so was i

i don’t remember
when it stopped
or when i forgot
(or what)
(or why)

but i see this
yes, and hear that
and it’s too much
far too much
because everyday i see my morning
dawn like yesterday
and give away tomorrow
to cancel the past

amen

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

First U.S. Bird Flu Death Stuns Anaheim


Tuesday, November 15, 2005

basho paints new york

a harmonica moans
in the muggy rawboned night
diminutive
&
other
a dwarf changeling from
the tarnished palladiums
of delta saxophones
blowing their spanish moss
blues on 3 a.m.
subway platforms
amid the muffled thunders
that ripple coffee puddles
on bleak concrete floors
color notes
of purple
&
brown
a pause before
an amber
silence

-dwf, 2005

Revisiting A Mistake

The other day, I pulled out an old painting I was going to gesso over and start again. I didn't like the direction it was taking. I'd already gessoed part of the canvas, but then put it aside to work on some other things. Looking at it again, I saw it with fresh eyes. I can't recall what I felt I was failing to achieve initially, but it now seems fresh and interesting enough to "pick up where I left off."

It seems I often abort a project rather than allowing it to go where it will. Theoretically (e.g., the aesthetic theory that guides my art) is "free form" or "free style." This itself is a bit misleading, since it requires discipline to refrain from guiding or consciously influencing the direction of the work. The idea is to allow the work to "become", much as a flower blossoms, or clouds form. And that's where I fail: At some point I start trying, unconsciously, to impose direction, meaning, purpose to the work -- the very things that I don't need to do. Poor discipline on my part, and it leads to abandoning a project, and to a heavy sense of creative frustration; to finally giving up altogether any hope of producing a "pure work," one that is because it is, that exists because it must, like a human being.

Visiting NYC this summer helped me regain a sense of proportion in my art, a re-realization of not giving up. In studying the works of masters like Picasso, Klee, Kandinsky, Pollock, and Cézanne -- especially Picasso and Cézanne -- I found myself again; the idea to allow a painting to become what it will, regardless of my notions where it should go. I saw omissions, even weaknesses in composition and execution. But I realized that they kept going until reaching a suitable stopping point.

So, I'm continuing on with this piece, not knowing where where we'll wind up. I hope to make all my projects like this, no more looking over the shoulder, no more second guessing -- no more analysis while in progress. That's death, creative death. And these are disciplines I need to relearn over and over; like prayer.

Like prayer.