organic patterns

             unintended art. patterns that emerged while burning a pasture.
             the things i could say about the effects of fire, while not always destructive
            simply transformative.

Back in the saddle again

                               

Brushing up on my Celtic manuscript lettering and anamorphic capitals. My penmanship is a bit to be desired, but  I think I am finally getting a feel for it.  I find myself copying down blessings. A William Blake quote that I am fond off is, "The difference between a bad artist and a good one is: the bad artist seems to copy a great deal; the good one really does." I am simply fond of it, not saying it applies to me.

The views of the world a tree has whilst covered in snow.

the transformative properties of snow

...After wind has stopped blowing snow around little wonders emerge. (trimmed bushes, covered in snow)

There is something about the sunset and the effects of the fading light. The way in which my eyes adjust, by slowly resizing the pupil.  The way that I find landmarks by their contrast against the horizon. The way I inadvertently stumble into an object that a moment ago was discernible as ordinary, now in the dusk, takes the guise of the invisible or unfamiliar.
All of this on top of the fact that the constellations are easily visible by 5:30 p.m., and I am still orienting myself to this new anomaly.

Yet in the time. Those few fleeting minutes as the sun slips beyond. The shapes that manifest themselves are eerily extraordinary. The whole world turns into a silhouette world, a monochromatic puppet show, with dazzling backgrounds.  I am fond of this time of day.