How do we choose to travel?
What is reliable in the rain?
What is our ultimate destination,
for this time, this journey, or
this day?
We move at the speed of life.
Depending on traffic, others
may chose to follow your path,
but not your direction.
© 2021 j.g. lewis
A little cold, little wet,
a little tired and yet
I am here. Still,
full of wonder.
The morning chill leaves
little to the imagination
and much less
to hope for.
Expected, perhaps, as it
always is, this time, this
season is only what
we ask of it.
11/21/2024 j.g.l.
The answers are far less certain
than even last week, to all those
perennial questions or solutions
you might seek.
What do you believe, or
what do you believe in?
Come Monday, you have fewer
questions than you had last week.
For a while there are less doubts
in what you believe.
Whom do you believe in,
and who believes in you?
11/18/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
His photography was not high art, but what he captured on film most definitely was.
For almost 40 years Bill Cunningham travelled about New York City, chronicling people in their element. He recorded not just life as it happened, but what it was about.
The photographer saw what people wanted people to see about themselves, respecting the individual and the need for self-expression. A distinct eye for detail, the man saw fashion trends before, or as, they were happening. His life was all about style.
Cunningham passed away over the weekend, at age 87.
He didn’t use the fanciest equipment, and what he produced couldn’t be heralded for composition or technical prowess, but his images went straight to his passion. Cunningham was on a quest for beauty.
He made fashion what it was, his columns and photo essays in the New York Times recognizing or almost predicting advances in style. Accepted by designers, magazine editors, fashionistas and dandies, Cunningham remained true to his trade and (like most photojournalists) wished to remain an outsider so he could look in and observe.
Bill Cunningham devoted his life to photography, earned a living with his camera, and he did so with purpose and passion. He recognized art, and lived art . . . shouldn’t we all be so fortunate?
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.