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|Low tide at Kalama Beach|
|Encountering larger forces|
|Drawing in the surf|
|The wind is changing in Kailua|
|Going from gentle breezes to a cold wave - A one degree fahrenheit low temperature tonight to welcome us home|
|Experience by degree|
|A few shells gathered at Kualoa|
|Post travel entanglement, red tape, problem fixing, politics, catch-up, follow-up, laying ground work, following through, finishing things, and soon, very, very soon I'm going to have the pleasure of just drawing all day and writing late at night.|
Sensing structure emerging from disorder,
evokes faint strains
of Coltrane's "Meditations" album;
where melody arises from noise.
|After the end and before the beginning. I'm at the edge of the creative cycle, about to enter. This zero position, a totally open state, is where the tarot finds the Fool. Dancing in interstitial space, long ago having finished production, not yet modeling a new work, and seemingly wasting time, I know how a fool feels. I'm not lacking inspiration, will to work, or ideas, yet all I can do is be present in this moment when shakti rises and time accumulates. Once inside the cycle, creativity is my path.|
A fencepost dreams
to its roots
|Traveled to Boston to honor my friend, legendary curator and writer, Mario Diacono.|
|Sustained studio time at last. Things are beginning to emerge.|
I find myself uncharacteristically patient while I allow
the new works to arise, but the glimpses I have
caught so far take my breath away and transform
waiting into savoring. The music builds, the compositions
unfold, the textures speak, and only then am I moved to action.
|Imminent snow storm|
|Snowbank covering woodpile|
This and not this
This moment, just like every other moment.
This breath, just like every other breath.
This day, just like every other day.
This night, just like every other night.
This snowstorm, just like every other snowstorm.
This temperature, just like every other temperature.
This winter, just like every other winter.
This season, just like every other season.
This year, just like every other year.
This life, just like every other life.
|Character of the storm|
|Stepping forward regardless|
|Building a frame around the infinite|
Reveling in the introspection
that characterizes a snowy winter,
I sit for a long time in my studio,
noticing my aversion to the cold
and feeling warmer.
From the cold.