Mythos & Marginalia

life notes; flaws and all

j.g. lewis

original content and images ©j.g. lewis

a daily breath...

A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking. They may get you thinking too . . .

Mondays are just young Fridays

I called up a friend on Saturday. 

   I had a question that couldn’t readily be answered by Google, and with my limited knowledge or recollection of the subject matter, I could not satisfy my curiosity.

   It was while I was wondering or trying to figure this all out, that I suddenly had the idea that this certain friend may have an answer, opinion, or perspective I was looking for.

   Now, I hadn’t spoken with this friend for quite some time. She lives in a different city, and while we do keep connected with occasional cards or letters and random comments on Facebook, it has been more than five years since we’ve actually met up in person.

   Still, I felt comfortable enough picking up the phone and making contact.

   I know I surprised her with the call, and her voice was as emphatically cheery as I remembered it to be. I asked the question; we conversed over the intended topic, and I valued her opinion and her recommendations. I expressed my appreciation for her thoughts, and then we went about randomly explaining certain aspects of our lives.

   We spoke of each other’s families, upcoming holiday plans, interests and experiences, relationships, and all the stuff that friends talk about. It was the kind of conversation that seemed to pick up where it left off. We shared, in bits and pieces, what our lives were about in the moment. It is what friends do.

   How one defines a friend — especially in these days where social media uses the term so broadly — is so very subjective. In my phone call Saturday, I realized that his friendship was far more than many others. I am blessed.

   Saturday’s delightful conversation went a lot longer than I imagined it would. It also strengthened a connection that is now more than a decade old. Given that I will soon be moving, and we will soon be in the same city, I am looking forward to experiencing this friendship on a more regular basis.

   A true friend is one you can call up at random, ask questions and have answers provided with clarity and consideration. Friendship recognizes where you are but eliminates the distance.

   Friendship is the type of thing you want more of.

   A friend is more than a name and number in your address book. Friendship allows you to use that number whenever it is needed.

11/25/2024                                                                                                                                            j.g.l.

 

this journey

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

this season

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.

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.

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Painting A Lifetime Pursuit

Posted on August 26, 2020 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

Paradigm j.g. lewis 2003

I have painted for as long as I can remember.
   Not consistently mind you, but I’ve been painting off and on, in fits and starts, for decades. It has always brought me happiness, even a sense of calm.
   I have been painting longer than I have been writing; I think we all have. Painting, or drawing, as young children allowed us to express ourselves more accurately than through our command of those 26 letters.
   We could paint a flower before we could spell it; or house. We could picture our family, or cat, with lines and colours on paper before we could spell everyone’s name.
   Painting was always fun.
   My mom enrolled me in art classes at the Allied Art Centre in Brandon, Manitoba. Art was my favorite class in school, each Grade I was learning more and gaining perspective on what I could do. In high school I studied industrial design, of which commercial art was one of its most captivating streams (yet one not quite as enchanting as photography).
   I have painted off and on through the years from landscapes to abstract. I have dabbled in various styles and mediums, even as I worked professionally as a photographer and writer in my newspaper days.
   As a young father, I was always excited to pull out the paint box and spend time with my daughter. Creativity has always brought us closer. Even a couple of years ago, we together attended a December workshop on designing wrapping paper. Creativity is a joy we share, even now we are both adults.
   Art, I feel, is fundamental to my presence a human being.
   We engage our deeper minds when we create. Painting has often done it for me.
   Yet, I’ve been consistently inconsistent in my efforts and output, until lately.
   When I began a self-imposed artistic immersion on the first of this month, I resolved to pull myself out of this pandemic depression by working on my art.
   Over the past weeks I have spent a great deal of time out and about with my camera. I have notes and stanzas and words to complete a number of poems, have spent some time in a new manuscript, I have attempted (and continue to attempt) to paint Zen circles, have a couple of “art” books on the go, and made several trips to the gallery (as I will be doing, again, tomorrow) to further open my eyes to the wonder and enchantment of art.
   I have also, each week, been climbing on my bike and riding down to the lakeshore where I settle in and mindfully paint for the morning. It is a simple process, in watercolours, where I create non-judgmental art.
   This exercise is about regaining the feeling, and becoming comfortable again with my brushes. It is, essentially, the same scene week after week, but each time I find a new view.
   There is no evaluation, it is all about painting simply, or simply being.   Repetition is important. This is an exercise to inspire me further.
   It seems that the regular practice of painting is bringing me a sense of contentment. I have come to realize I need more consistency in my work, in my study and, perhaps, my life.
   Painting is important to my future creativity and me. It is a lifetime pursuit.
   Years ago, when a much younger me was at a dinner party, the topic conversation turned to hobbies and retirement. I was already working as a writer, and photographer (hobbies only to many), so the question was directed to what creative endeavor would I take up when I retire.
   My answer was instant.
   “I’m going to paint,” I said. “Nudes.”
   Of course they laughed, until they figured out that I was serious.
   Seriously.
   When I “retire” or turn 65, I will begin to paint nudes; big ones, oil on canvas.
I’ve been preparing, really, for most of my life. Nothing commands a young man’s (or older man’s) attention like the female form. Two winters ago, I went back to weekly figure drawing classes; timed poses to get you thinking quickly at looking and capturing anatomy.
   I attended the classes to expand my mind, develop my skills, and to prepare me for my planned retirement project. I now have a sketchpad full of female and male figures in the event that live models will not be as plentiful as I imagine (I’ve got a few years to continue recruiting).
   To paint as I imagine, I will have to step into another medium. Serious art requires serious paint. I have only once before painted with oils.
   I suppose I should, over the coming years, become acquainted with oil paints (maybe even take a class). For that, I have a few designs or concepts in mind – pretty well sketched out – and ready to go, but I will save the nudes for my retirement years.
   Until then I will practice, probably even more constantly than I have been. Art is about learning, as much as it is about living. Art matters.
   As I wrote, yesterday, to my daughter: It’s not what you paint, or where you paint, it matters only that you paint.

Paradigm Shift j.g. lewis 2003

© 2020 j.g. lewis

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