‘Where is the life we have lost in the living?’ I picked up a T.S.Eliot the other day anthology and it opened to the Chorus’ for ‘The Rock’ that contains this quote. I have been pondering.
Picture. Sitting on a dock, the afternoon is hot and humid. A breeze picks up and the swells roll the the wooden platform. A loon preens in the sun not far away. And eaglet fledged. One remains behind.
I decided to abandon commercial photography. I decided to paint only for myself. I have navigated the water of the ‘gallery’ scene. If pursued I would have been successful. There would have been price to pay however and I was not willing to pay the fare. That piece of my soul. So I make a living as a farmer and a dog trainer. It is a good life full of good people. Farmers don’t give a hoot if your pumpkins are bigger than theirs of if your sheep wins at the country fair. You chew on a piece of hay and discuss grain prices.
Recent Additions and Re-Do’s from the Gravel Pit Series
Fascination. Glacier. Limestone, rocks, Maine. Home Erratic boulders out of proportion to the landscape. Remains. Exposure. The earth is flayed and tortured. Large open pits. Lost topsoil, trees, habitat – you expect to find no life no beauty in this moonscape of human desire for roads and building. Progress. However wandering the vast pit there are footprints in the clay and gravel; weasel and coyote, fox and racoon. A kestrel hovers; and in the early morning and evening large flocks of swallows gather above the exposed aquifers seeking mosquitoes. Hawks ride the thermals generated by the sand and rock.