Even in a time of elephantine vanity and greed, one never has to look far to see the campfires of gentle people.
Garrison Keillor
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Hello Sandy
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While trudging through this tangled jungle of human behavior one day in the merry, merry month of April, I was taken by surprise by a pair of roving ideas. One was that I was lugging around with me a heavy sack of my past, recent and otherwise. The sack contains all kinds of useless and harmful memories, impressions, thoughts, beliefs and regrets. It was clear to me that I could not go forward in my life with any degree of energy and purpose until I had unloaded this sack, threw it off the edge of a cliff.
But the other idea is that maybe not everything in this sack is worthless. I know better than to go through everything that's in there to make a value judgement about each thing. I might as well throw myself off the cliff if I tried to do that.
I took a nap this afternoon and woke up with a start thinking about someone I hardly knew. I had been working at the Provincetown Playhouse on Cape Cod. It was my day off and suddenly there was a French Canadian girl following me around. She was very nice and we spent the day together, the evening and eventually went to sleep somewhere around the playhouse. We didn't have sex, we just knocked around and did things. I remember I woke up in the middle of the night and she was staring at me, eyes wide open. I spoke to her but she didn't answer. She was asleep. She slept withy her eyes open. I remembered hearing about people who did that. It was strange. I went back to sleep. When I woke and went back to work she disappeared. I never knew her name. What a strange memory to have. It happened over 50 years ago. And why did it suddenly come back to me?
What it tells me is that there are things and people in that bag of trash that will come out to be looked at and thrown out or saved and that I probably don't need to go searching for them.
That experience quite unnerved me. I went for a walk in the cold and rain. As I can tell I'm still having trouble getting rid of the bag of junk I brought with me when I moved. The only time I feel alright is when I'm typing. It's logical and therefore calming. As someone said I'm putting the pieces of the puzzle back together after an upheaval. There's a strange paradox here. It doesn't matter what goes on around me here, It's unimportant. But it's the only thing going on around me. Meanwhile I'm trying to sort through the thoughts, emotions, point of view about this and that, memories, and find the right place in my head and my heart for the things that need a home while I look at the same chaos with my material belongings. I don't want to do either. I've never felt this way before that I can remember. I hope I'm not losing my mind.
I think Bruce had the best solution. He told me to read a novel of far away places. So I read some philosophy. I'm searching for the campfires of those gentle people. Haven't found them yet.
DB - Vagabond
Never give up.
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Showing posts with label Bruce Kennett. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bruce Kennett. Show all posts
Monday, April 2, 2012
Friday, February 11, 2011
The Story Of A Painting
Find the seed at the bottom of your heart and bring forth a flower.
Shigemori Kameoka
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The painting I'm currently working on is based on a drawing I did years ago. I was performing "Other People's Money" and while the young woman had a long scene about the doings on Wall Street I was sitting at my desk with a large yellow legal pad and a pencil. My character was supposed to be taking notes. But instead I was drawing. I wasn't drawing her or any object. It was just a free sketch expressing the thoughts and feelings I had listening to her speech. Every night I would add to it.
When the show closed and the set was struck I assumed the drawing was thrown away. But one member of the crew saved it, scanned it into her computer, erased all the horizontal lines from the legal pad, printed it out and gave it to me. I've carried it in my box for years and it's now becoming a painting.
Yesterday my artist friend Bruce sent me the following. With his permission I'm passing it along. It reminds me of my own painting. Please enjoy it as much as I do.
To Paint the Portrait of a Bird
by Jacques Prévert 1949
to Elsa Henriquez
First paint a cage with an open door then paint something pretty something simple something beautiful something useful for the bird then place the canvas against a tree in a garden in a wood or in a forest hide behind the tree without speaking without moving … Sometimes the bird comes quickly but he can just as well spend long years before making up his mind Don't be discouraged wait wait even if it takes years the swiftness or slowness of the bird’s arrival have no bearing on the success of the picture When the bird comes if he comes observe the most profound silence wait for the bird to enter the cage and when he has entered gently close the door with the paintbrush then paint out all the bars one by one taking care not to touch any of the bird’s feathers Next paint the portrait of the tree choosing the most beautiful of its branches for the bird also paint the green foliage and the coolness of the wind the dust of the sun and the noise of the insects in the grass in the summer heat and then wait for the bird to decide to sing If the bird doesn't sing it’s a bad sign sign that the painting is bad but if he sings it’s a good sign sign that you may sign Thus you gently pluck out one of the bird’s feathers and write your name in a corner of the painting.
Translated from the original French by Bruce Kennett
BRUCE KENNETT STUDIO
1234 West Side Road : : North Conway NH 03860
Phone 603-447-2338 : : Cell 603-387-3725
www.brucekennettstudio.com
Thank you Bruce
DB
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WINTER QUESTION
(This is not a contest)
What was the most significant event that happened in 2010?
dbdacoba@aol.com
Only 6 responses so far
I await your answer.
DB
******************************
Shigemori Kameoka
***********************
The painting I'm currently working on is based on a drawing I did years ago. I was performing "Other People's Money" and while the young woman had a long scene about the doings on Wall Street I was sitting at my desk with a large yellow legal pad and a pencil. My character was supposed to be taking notes. But instead I was drawing. I wasn't drawing her or any object. It was just a free sketch expressing the thoughts and feelings I had listening to her speech. Every night I would add to it.
When the show closed and the set was struck I assumed the drawing was thrown away. But one member of the crew saved it, scanned it into her computer, erased all the horizontal lines from the legal pad, printed it out and gave it to me. I've carried it in my box for years and it's now becoming a painting.
Yesterday my artist friend Bruce sent me the following. With his permission I'm passing it along. It reminds me of my own painting. Please enjoy it as much as I do.
To Paint the Portrait of a Bird
by Jacques Prévert 1949
to Elsa Henriquez
First paint a cage with an open door then paint something pretty something simple something beautiful something useful for the bird then place the canvas against a tree in a garden in a wood or in a forest hide behind the tree without speaking without moving … Sometimes the bird comes quickly but he can just as well spend long years before making up his mind Don't be discouraged wait wait even if it takes years the swiftness or slowness of the bird’s arrival have no bearing on the success of the picture When the bird comes if he comes observe the most profound silence wait for the bird to enter the cage and when he has entered gently close the door with the paintbrush then paint out all the bars one by one taking care not to touch any of the bird’s feathers Next paint the portrait of the tree choosing the most beautiful of its branches for the bird also paint the green foliage and the coolness of the wind the dust of the sun and the noise of the insects in the grass in the summer heat and then wait for the bird to decide to sing If the bird doesn't sing it’s a bad sign sign that the painting is bad but if he sings it’s a good sign sign that you may sign Thus you gently pluck out one of the bird’s feathers and write your name in a corner of the painting.
Translated from the original French by Bruce Kennett
BRUCE KENNETT STUDIO
1234 West Side Road : : North Conway NH 03860
Phone 603-447-2338 : : Cell 603-387-3725
www.brucekennettstudio.com
Thank you Bruce
DB
************************
WINTER QUESTION
(This is not a contest)
What was the most significant event that happened in 2010?
dbdacoba@aol.com
Only 6 responses so far
I await your answer.
DB
******************************
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