Creative: Visual Notes From a Half Day

So, I got a half day out. If you throw in the driving it was a full day, and then some. In fact, I drove six hours there and back, and then drove slowly for four hours while making pictures. A day of driving some would say. A day of birding for others. And others still might focus on the hunt for pictures. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll go with the last option. I was there for photographs.

My schedule is not conducive. At least for now. Too many tasks on the list. And time consuming tasks at that. Some tasks requiring things I’m good at while others force me into the discomfort zone, but let’s be real here. My life is gravy. My aunt just died, suddenly. I was texting with her and the next day I got a call from my sister at an atypical hour. I knew something was wrong. “She’s gone,” she said. It seemed impossible. Her elderly fingers were just hitting those keys. Jokes about dad and grandpa. Her menu for Christmas dinner. Life suffers no fools. It’s here and then it’s gone. Better make the most of it friends.

The journal is my favorite part of life, at least the creative part. That might sound strange but it’s true. Some folks pursue fame and fortune. Others pursue shows and exhibitions. Me, I want my small enclosure. No need to show it off. No need to share. It wouldn’t make sense to you anyway. Heck, most of the time it barely makes sense to me. I like to doll it up. Photographs, like these. Words. Many, many words. That’s it. That’s all I need.

I know how fortunate I am. I have incredibly good hearing. I do. Always have. When I lived in Los Angeles I could hear people walking on the sidewalk in front of the house, over the noise of the beast. I overhear things you can’t imagine. But I can also turn it off to the needless and unnecessary. I turn off what matters not. Anything pseudo. Anything fake or phony. Anything desperate.

I work. I print. I adhere. And then I work again. Over the top of it all. This way and that way. White and black and sometimes blue. No need for anything perfect. Cheap ingredients but priceless opportunity. Opportunity to be real. Opportunity to ask the questions that no one wants to ask. It’s a great game. One played by many of the most interesting people we’ve ever found. I’m not there. Not even close, but that’s okay. I’m just plugging away. One page at a time.