Up in the Skies

Oh, yes, take a look up!  The sun shines and clouds drift past, but what does that mean for us?  Just think of all the great inspiration that comes from dreaming.  Looking up is the place we go to dream.

So take some inspiration from this: all art starts with a dream.  The dream then sorts itself out into practical considerations.  What, for example?  Well, if you’re going to paint, there’s paint and paper and brushes to buy, and an easel to procure.  But all of that is small stuff.  The big thing, the glorious thing, is the dream.

So go outside, and look at the sky today.  Even if it’s cloudy.  That will be the ticket.  Then, all it all to unfold.  A book, a symphony, wherever your imagination takes you.  The logistics will work out.  All will be created in its own internal rhythm.  Just trust and allow.  Dreams are the source of the good stuff of life.

Music Arises from Bells

A short meander outside, on a street we don’t usually walk down, and what do we hear?  A faint sound: ring, bing, loom, broom . . . bells.  But where do they come from?  See that church way down the street?  Aaaah, that’s the place.  Beautiful!  A haven calling from the past, a voice of beckoning for the future.

You see: melody generates from the sound of the landscape.  All good composers know this.  Awash in music, we develop patience, we simply listen.  Watch and wait.  All we need to make music is all around us.  It’s right here: brong, loom, dooorrrrrng, bells become our teacher, our conservatory of composition.

Pay attention.  This has been so throughout the ages.  These ancient and venerated church bells just may have something to teach us.

Broooonnnnng!  Go thou and make music.

Life is a Swamp (But We Artists Love the Mud)

Life is a swamp, or so some say.  But we artists love the mud.  Some see muck and mire, but we see beauty. Here in the fertile soil, the rich earth, creation awaits.  For the perceptive mind, mud is a source of beauty.  True in art, true in life.

Walking outside, here in Cleveland, Ohio, we herald the arrival of spring.  Oh, boy, it is sunny today and fifty degrees!  It’s been a long, hard winter.  The pipes froze last month, and there was water all over the floor, oh, man, that was a real mess.  Now that is all cleaned up and fixed.  Let’s go outside!

Look and see.  A rabbit says to us, ha! see me run?  You can run, too!  Join me in the frolic and fun.  Hop into the woods.  Who says you can’t?

For us, life is a rabbit, hopping in the woods.  The artist sees and creates.  We hop hop hop through the trees (perhaps this is even a poem) and that is fine.

When you’re feeling fine, create art.  This is our mission statement for the day.  Turn mud into gold.

Wisdom from a Hawk: We Must Create Art

One day, I woke up to the sound of a hawk flying overhead, and coming to rest in the trees.  What, I said, a hawk?  Yes, indeed, the venerable hawk, bird of legend has come to teach us new lessons, as well as the sage ways of old. Ha! Pay attention, I then said, preparing to ascertain what might be at hand.

Lovely bird, I say, old chap, did you see that majestic flight in the sky, circling overhead, and then coming to rest in the trees?  Oh, yes, you might say, I certainly did!

Then, what, pray tell, might be the meaning of this?

Create art! The hawk replied, you must create art!  Today!  Today you will create art!

And so we must.  Get on that good old WordPress and blog about it, and then go paint a picture, write a song, and dance a dance!  There, that’s how you do it!  Oh, yeah! There we go.

That hawk just may have wisdom for us that we would be well advised to pay close attention to.

Music Arises in Subtle Places

Sometimes, I walk down the road not paying attention.  Then, I open up my ears and hear the soft voices of leaves in the rain.  What can be seen through the subtle sounds that our earth brings forth?  The dance of colors in the rain just may be the soundtrack for life.

Listening may surprise us.  Music arises in subtle places.


Art is Life

When contemplating the workflow of the artist, I often think of the patterns of the wind and rain.  A gentle flow guides the process with sudden gusts of motion.  Sometimes it can get pretty intense, then things seem to settle back down into a deeper level of equipoise and coherence.   A process of rising and falling, rising again and subsiding.  This seems to be the way of art.