Happy Easter
P.S. Yellow Ranunculus is a funny phrase, but these flowers reveal clues to the mystery that anything at all should exist.
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Sunday, March 31, 2013
It's Easter
May the world evolve towards a more peaceful place where lizards can bask in the April sun and never be frightened by the sound of gun shots.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
This is not landscape painting
Greetings on the day before Easter.
Just an image this morning, listening to Bach organ music. Then on to more Prayer Flags.
Wishing you all fine and good things.
Just an image this morning, listening to Bach organ music. Then on to more Prayer Flags.
Wishing you all fine and good things.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Greetings on an early morning in late March
I have just finished the task of judging the 2013 SURTEX International Student Design Competition, designtex®.
There were 50 entries for 15 schools from around the world.
The students were judged for surface design development, creativity and style, viability in the commercial market and overall presentation.
The final four will be notified in early April.
Something I have been acutely aware of for decades is the sad reality that subtle, delicate work is rarely chosen for recognition, as it is so hard to photograph. Computers haven't made the situation any better.
So extraverted, contrasty, dramatic work tends to dominate. Not surprising, but this does a great disservice to those excellent artists/designers who have a light and often poetic visual touch.
Looking at this current design work from many countries (not knowing who is from where), I was surprised by how the "flat" world has homogenized the language of design.
I suppose that is to be expected with world-wide markets.
Still, I would have liked to see more entries offering a unique, less safe vision of what the surfaces that surround and envelope us might look like.
If students are reined in to reflect a conservative business-like attitude, their potential contribution is stifled.
I missed a merging of skill and untamed creativity.
May the untamed creative impulse prevail!
I have just finished the task of judging the 2013 SURTEX International Student Design Competition, designtex®.
There were 50 entries for 15 schools from around the world.
The students were judged for surface design development, creativity and style, viability in the commercial market and overall presentation.
The final four will be notified in early April.
Something I have been acutely aware of for decades is the sad reality that subtle, delicate work is rarely chosen for recognition, as it is so hard to photograph. Computers haven't made the situation any better.
So extraverted, contrasty, dramatic work tends to dominate. Not surprising, but this does a great disservice to those excellent artists/designers who have a light and often poetic visual touch.
Looking at this current design work from many countries (not knowing who is from where), I was surprised by how the "flat" world has homogenized the language of design.
I suppose that is to be expected with world-wide markets.
Still, I would have liked to see more entries offering a unique, less safe vision of what the surfaces that surround and envelope us might look like.
If students are reined in to reflect a conservative business-like attitude, their potential contribution is stifled.
I missed a merging of skill and untamed creativity.
May the untamed creative impulse prevail!
Thursday, March 21, 2013
J.S. Bach's Birthday
Please celebrate Johann Sebastian's 328th birthday with me today.
No one ever born has given us such great and glorious music. Thousands of compositions are available to accompany us on our perplexing journey on this planet.
My mother often danced around the living room in to Bach's Air for the G String. My brother regularly played Bach's keyboard works; my father (who was a violist and had a string quartet) loved to play Bach. My aunt Reba (a harpsichordist) taught me to love Bach more than.... blintzes.
No one ever born has given us such great and glorious music. Thousands of compositions are available to accompany us on our perplexing journey on this planet.
My mother often danced around the living room in to Bach's Air for the G String. My brother regularly played Bach's keyboard works; my father (who was a violist and had a string quartet) loved to play Bach. My aunt Reba (a harpsichordist) taught me to love Bach more than.... blintzes.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Good Spring Tidings
Greetings on this first day of Spring 2013.
Renewal=new again.
I thought I'd share some of my photos of flowers with you this morning to celebrate this season.
I forgot George Frederick Handel's birthday on February 23rd (1685); and as he is one of my favorite composers, I would like to express my gratitude that he paid a visit to this planet and left us so many superb musical offerings.
Many Hugs, and the feelings that precede them.
Jason
Please fall in love with Yellow.
Renewal=new again.
I thought I'd share some of my photos of flowers with you this morning to celebrate this season.
I forgot George Frederick Handel's birthday on February 23rd (1685); and as he is one of my favorite composers, I would like to express my gratitude that he paid a visit to this planet and left us so many superb musical offerings.
Many Hugs, and the feelings that precede them.
Jason
Monday, March 18, 2013
Leaving the shore for the other side
A long while ago I gave a talk on printed textiles in Rovaniemi, the capital of Finnlsh Lapland, close to the Arctic Circle. The sun never set.
I went for a walk and saw a boat moored near a small pier. I sat down to draw under a nearby boulder, and when I looked up again the boat was gone.
I hadn't seen anyone get into it, nor did I hear the slightest sound. I took two photos, before and after.
Every time we have a thought the boat is there. After every thought and before the next one, the boat is gone.
If we observe and listen attentively we may see and hear how it all comes and goes. Often we forget to pay attention. Often we get hooked.
The next day I returned to find the boat back where it had been.
I remember smiling a lot that day.
I went for a walk and saw a boat moored near a small pier. I sat down to draw under a nearby boulder, and when I looked up again the boat was gone.
I hadn't seen anyone get into it, nor did I hear the slightest sound. I took two photos, before and after.
Every time we have a thought the boat is there. After every thought and before the next one, the boat is gone.
If we observe and listen attentively we may see and hear how it all comes and goes. Often we forget to pay attention. Often we get hooked.
The next day I returned to find the boat back where it had been.
I remember smiling a lot that day.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Friday, March 15, 2013
someone turned the stars off
Greetings from Kansas City on the Ides of March.
If I were to chose an alias, it would be the March Hare. In fact I am re-reading Alice at the moment and see significant parallels in our experience.
You may know that I had an aunt Alice, who opened a whistling studio in NewYork City in the 20's. Whistling as a serious course of study went out with Vaudeville. More's the pity.
So much to stare, so hard to know which stories to tell and in which order. As i figure that out, you shall be the beneficiaries...if you so choose. Self-indulgent, isn't it.
Well, despite that, I intend to proceed, hot-scotching from date to date, place to place.
Hopefully you will find some sense of recognition in the parallels with your own experiences. This is an ambling preamble for what's to come.
I suppose the warning should be the familiar EAYOR...Enter at your own risk.
For now, here's one of this morning's sketches:
HOC
JP
If I were to chose an alias, it would be the March Hare. In fact I am re-reading Alice at the moment and see significant parallels in our experience.
You may know that I had an aunt Alice, who opened a whistling studio in NewYork City in the 20's. Whistling as a serious course of study went out with Vaudeville. More's the pity.
So much to stare, so hard to know which stories to tell and in which order. As i figure that out, you shall be the beneficiaries...if you so choose. Self-indulgent, isn't it.
Well, despite that, I intend to proceed, hot-scotching from date to date, place to place.
Hopefully you will find some sense of recognition in the parallels with your own experiences. This is an ambling preamble for what's to come.
I suppose the warning should be the familiar EAYOR...Enter at your own risk.
For now, here's one of this morning's sketches:
JP
Thursday, March 14, 2013
The Last Slide
Greetings,
After a month of daily scanning thousands of slides, this one turns out to be the last of them. I am guessing that I took the photograph in Pompeii, where Vesuvius blew its stack and preserved that day in 79 A.D. under many layers of ash.
So precarious this short life of ours; just this thin layer of epidermis to protect us from the "outrageous fortunes" that might afflict us.
On the brighter side, March is sliding towards the equinox and the birds know it. It is time to rediscover cerulean and crimson and Naples yellow and of course Kelly green. My heart is pattering just a little bit louder in anticipation of the impending crocuses as they prepare to pierce through the still frozen soil.
Wishing you an expansive day before the Ides of March
H.O.C. (Hugs of course)
Jason
After a month of daily scanning thousands of slides, this one turns out to be the last of them. I am guessing that I took the photograph in Pompeii, where Vesuvius blew its stack and preserved that day in 79 A.D. under many layers of ash.
So precarious this short life of ours; just this thin layer of epidermis to protect us from the "outrageous fortunes" that might afflict us.
On the brighter side, March is sliding towards the equinox and the birds know it. It is time to rediscover cerulean and crimson and Naples yellow and of course Kelly green. My heart is pattering just a little bit louder in anticipation of the impending crocuses as they prepare to pierce through the still frozen soil.
Wishing you an expansive day before the Ides of March
H.O.C. (Hugs of course)
Jason
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
March 13, 2013
Forwards, Backwards, and Sideways, and Away we go.
How to begin what may be a lengthy journey into times past and weaving them into the present? And more importantly, how to make them compelling and have them resonate with you, who are not...me?
Since I am not a left brain sort of human, my instinct says free-fall into the void, and trust that unexpected doorways will open onto remembered and invented backyards and alleys, and out into deep space, and down into subatomic universes.
Here goes....
But first a few details of how I have prepared for this virtual dance.
By 3pm today I shall have scanned several thousand slides, the oldest of which date back the 1940's. Organizing and editing them will be an ongoing, daunting project.
My Goals are: To inspire, amuse, surprise, provoke
Disclaimer: This is likely to be a messy process, but then again, living this life is, for all of us, a messy experience. All our attempts to tame the wild elephant are futile. Observing and eventually revering the wild elephant leads to less frustration, and occasionally equanimity.
The Approach: Merging images and words, finding unlikely juxtapositions, stimulating the creator and the observer to enter the wordless, imageless place, the dynamic void, the ground of becoming, from which IT ALL emerges.
What inspired the impulse to start a blog?
When I was in my twenties and living in Paris, I became friends with Carlo Suares. He was in his mid eighties, had been a painter for more than fifty years, and was a close friend of Krishnamurti's. He had translated Khrishnamurti's writings into French. At the time I met him, he seemed to live in a perpetual state of awe that anything should exist at all. His child-like delight in whatever occurred left a lasting impression on me.
Meeting and befriending Khrishnamurti and Carlo Surares eased me onto a path of deep questioning, meditation, yoga....and often more confusion. From both of them I learned that what we are taught to believe, who we think we are, is not at all related to truth.
Perhaps this is the moment to share what I have observed, what I feel compelled to make, a look into my topsy-turvy world, in hopes that you will find something worth finding in it.
Let's just start somewhere early on, ok? Thanks.
Here's a photo of me and my dog Wendy. She taught me about unconditional love. The Atlantic Ocean and the Fire Island dunes taught me to appreciate the most elemental forces. It was on Fire Island, without electricity or cars, that I was as happy as I have ever been. The music of the waves, the warmth of the soft sand under my bare feet, the feeling that all was almost as right as it could be in this unpredictable world.
It is on Fire Island that I discovered that I was an artist. I endlessly collected and arranged shells and twigs and embedded them in the wet sand, and watched them be rearranged and destroyed by the the invading tides.
Sand castles with moats of course.
First Important Lesson in Impermanence
Hugs,
Jason
How to begin what may be a lengthy journey into times past and weaving them into the present? And more importantly, how to make them compelling and have them resonate with you, who are not...me?
Since I am not a left brain sort of human, my instinct says free-fall into the void, and trust that unexpected doorways will open onto remembered and invented backyards and alleys, and out into deep space, and down into subatomic universes.
Here goes....
But first a few details of how I have prepared for this virtual dance.
By 3pm today I shall have scanned several thousand slides, the oldest of which date back the 1940's. Organizing and editing them will be an ongoing, daunting project.
My Goals are: To inspire, amuse, surprise, provoke
Disclaimer: This is likely to be a messy process, but then again, living this life is, for all of us, a messy experience. All our attempts to tame the wild elephant are futile. Observing and eventually revering the wild elephant leads to less frustration, and occasionally equanimity.
The Approach: Merging images and words, finding unlikely juxtapositions, stimulating the creator and the observer to enter the wordless, imageless place, the dynamic void, the ground of becoming, from which IT ALL emerges.
What inspired the impulse to start a blog?
When I was in my twenties and living in Paris, I became friends with Carlo Suares. He was in his mid eighties, had been a painter for more than fifty years, and was a close friend of Krishnamurti's. He had translated Khrishnamurti's writings into French. At the time I met him, he seemed to live in a perpetual state of awe that anything should exist at all. His child-like delight in whatever occurred left a lasting impression on me.
Meeting and befriending Khrishnamurti and Carlo Surares eased me onto a path of deep questioning, meditation, yoga....and often more confusion. From both of them I learned that what we are taught to believe, who we think we are, is not at all related to truth.
Perhaps this is the moment to share what I have observed, what I feel compelled to make, a look into my topsy-turvy world, in hopes that you will find something worth finding in it.
Let's just start somewhere early on, ok? Thanks.
Here's a photo of me and my dog Wendy. She taught me about unconditional love. The Atlantic Ocean and the Fire Island dunes taught me to appreciate the most elemental forces. It was on Fire Island, without electricity or cars, that I was as happy as I have ever been. The music of the waves, the warmth of the soft sand under my bare feet, the feeling that all was almost as right as it could be in this unpredictable world.
It is on Fire Island that I discovered that I was an artist. I endlessly collected and arranged shells and twigs and embedded them in the wet sand, and watched them be rearranged and destroyed by the the invading tides.
Sand castles with moats of course.
First Important Lesson in Impermanence
Hugs,
Jason
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
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