Wednesday 22 November 2023

THE WORDS KEEP COMING

 


https://www.blurb.com/b/11767217-the-words-keep-coming


I recently published yet another book of poems and prose in which I included a good number of examples of my paintings, sketches, and drawings. Of course there's my writing to muddle things up, but here too you might find something interesting. I would warn, however, that of late I've tended to write about things that people don't wish to know, or hear about, war, environmental issues, religion, and so on. They're my views born out of frustration at the state of our world, and the fact that everything seems to be going to heck. Anyway, should you not agree take heart you're probably not the first. Just skip the page, and enjoy the next bit of art.

Thursday 21 September 2023

FULL CIRCLE





 I’ve come full circle, or so it seems, as I look down the channel leading out onto Whitefish Lake. Some 25 years, or so ago, although it seems like only yesterday, I sat here, at a picnic table, perhaps the same worn and weathered picnic table that I’m now sitting at, and made some tentative sketches of this scene. My landscape sketches back then were indeed tentative. I began my quest to work at becoming an artist by producing intaglio prints, mainly of wildlife, birds if I’m to be more precise, and seeking some quiet place to avoid being scrutinized by the general public, had come to Algonquin Park in the off season to begin learning to sketch and paint landscape. In a tiny sketchbook, with pencil, and watercolour brush in hand, I made some marks, then some more marks, and now many, many, marks later, I’m back where I started, about to stop making marks and retire to watch others, however ,and before doing so, I decided to make a few more marks on paper, so with pen and pencil in hand I begin making marks, and travel to a place of solitude with Raven to watch my back…


1966 Sketches.......






2023 Sketches.......





Not a lot of change in the landscape over the years. As for a comparison between my now and then sketching, it would seem that there's also not much of a change, a bit more confidence in my  making marks, and perhaps a bit more knowledgeable about what I'm sketching, but not a lot of change. In looking back, perhaps I needn't have been so tentative in my approach. Too late now, I suppose,  to be judgemental.

Later that week we also travelled to Tea Lake, one of Tom Thomson's sketching places and made a sketch while enjoying the solitude of the park, a zen moment so to speak, as with fewer people in the park following the Labour Day weekend, and the children back at school, our visit to the park was much more enjoyable. 









Tuesday 5 September 2023

Canary In The Icefields





Once upon a time we packed our bags and went on a trip to explore Canada’s West. Along the way we stopped to take in the views of the Athabasca Ice-fields, and various lookouts onto glacial fed lakes, one being Peyto Lake fed by the Peyto Glacier…..

https://www.cbc.ca/newsinteractives/features/the-canary-in-the-icefield


                               Pencil Sketch and Drawings of the Columbia Ice Fields




Global warming is wreaking havoc on these glaciers. It is predicted that most will disappear during your children's children’s lifetime, forecasting a different future for those dependant upon them for a source of water. From the perspective of someone aged, global warming, it’s simply interesting, but for the younger generation, it should be of concern. Most certainly they will adapt, but to what?

Friday 1 September 2023

ALGONQUIN - CHANGE IS INEVITABLE



We were up to the Blue Spruce Resort at Dwight, Ontario, a few days ago. It's an annual tradition, a week spent meeting with ageing friends spent mostly discussing the benefits of ageing. Just to let you know, there are none, absolutely none. In between we, my wife and I travelled into nearby Algonquin Provincial Park. We once upon a time would canoe and hike the trails gathering sketches and wildlife experiences from here and there. Now, we travel through the park on Hwy 60, stopping at various pull-offs, and picnicking in sheltered areas.
It's nice, but not the same, nor for that matter is the park. At one time one would encounter deer and moose feeding at the side of the road and there were clear views of the park's lakes. Now, with the forest maturing there's not much to view while driving except trees, which is good I suppose, and it's been years since we've seen deer, or moose feeding at the side of the highway. Things have changed. Used to be one could simply drive into the park, and get a camping site, now reservations and permits, even for day use are required, and they're nolonger cheap. And, the visitation at the park has increased substantially. The world has, it seems, become smaller. Of course, it's only we old folks who are somewhat concerned. The younger generation have no idea, or little idea, of the park's past history nor are they concerned. Many are from other countries, and have different histories to remember. Their only concern is to enjoy a break from the crowded cities to the south, and perhaps see a moose.

There's change at the Blue Spruce Resort, as well, a changed in ownership. The Hayden Family who called the resort home for 70+ years, have retired from the area, leaving the future of the resort up in the air. It had to happen, of course. With time everything changes.

Algonquin Park, however, for the moment remains the same. Taller trees perhaps, but still a place of solitude where one can have a time out from the stress of our shrinking, troubled, world. Still a place where one can savour a few moments grabbing a quick sketch, a memory of time well spent.....






Just to let everyone know, in the event someone might be interested, I have another blog in which I, from time to time, post some poetry and prose, thoughts about this and that.....

Monday 7 August 2023

Still Here


 Still hear everyone. Nothing new by the way of sketches and drawings. Just wanted you to know that I'm making some progress on putting together two new books, one a collection of landscape sketches and drawings, and the other, stuff that I write in the form of poetry and prose that no one wants to hear, or read, stuff dealing with global warming, and dying and death, with the odd piece related to nature and the nature of things. That I write about dying and death should be expected, as I'm much older than most of you and get up every morning realizing that the horizon is much closer. It's a tough subject, but you know, someone has to write the odd thing about ageing, as there are so many living the experience. It's not nice, of course, the reason that I tell younger persons to live every day and to not put off until you're aged, as unlike wine, ageing doesn't make things better.

Comes The Day


It begins at the beginning, 

a clock ticking quietly measuring time, until 

with our purpose served it begins to tick loudly 

letting us know, that time, once our friend,  

now not so friendly.


Ageing, 

never seemingly a threat, 

perhaps to others, but

never to us when feeling our best.


Comes the day when we finally accept,

that we’ve aged like others, and are

no longer a threat to those who would race 

to find a place at the head of the line, 

leaving us breathless, and so far behind.


We never prepared, thinking that 

we would be spared the aches, 

and the pains, 

and failing minds.


Faced with reality,

dreams left behind, we

live with denial, and hope for the best,

life left enjoyable, and not set adrift.


But, try as we may there comes the day,

when we have little choice but to finally accept, that 

life as we knew it is steadily leaving, 

and soon we are adrift,relying upon others 

to point us the way to what we’ve been dreading, 

since time started ticking. 

~~~~~


I do appreciate the moments, however, the quiet times when one can sit and look around enjoying nature carry on despite humanity's efforts to alter the very essence of nature....


 I SIT AND WATCH


Drops of water on the Rose of Sharon, 

last night’s summer rain, 

sparkle like diamonds 

in dawn’s early light.


A breeze stirs the garden’s flowers, 

shaking off the fallen rain, absorbs the moisture, 

and stores it on a passing cloud, to share another day, 

with flora and fauna, 

many, many, miles away.


Daisy Fleabane going to seed 

shakes its heads,

and opens its sleeping flowers , 

a greeting to the morning hour.


Like the troubadours of old, 

Robin sings his morning song.


Buzzards drift lazyily in the morning sky, 

searching for things that may have died. 


Mourning Doves, 

greet the morning with a coo.


Crows ever vigilant, 

hunger driven. 

watch, 

and listen. 


I sit, and watch, and listen, 

as Nature rails at our revisions, 

struggling to hold together 

other’s visions.


This world we think as ours,

torn apart by indecision,

on the brink of extinction,

greets our morning with forlorn.


I close my eyes so I can see, 

what I’d would like to see,

and listen.


~~~~~

Well, must go, but before doing so, here's a few sketches and drawings of Georgian Bay.....