MORE ABUT SELF PUBLISHING....

It used to be that self publishing was considered vanity publishing. Truth was, is, commercial publishers are not entirely interested in promoting literature, or art , but are more (self) interested in running a business and making a profit. If you weren't given the nod by academics , or the commercial crowd, then it was decided that you weren't worth publishing. So, when the ebook came along those that felt that they had something worth saying, or had a story to tell, jumped at the chance to tell the world. Some have enjoyed incredible success, catching the eye of paper book publishers and film. Some of us just poke along satisfied that our thoughts, our ideas, through the internet are reaching a global audience, and, just maybe, will survive lifetimes to be read and enjoyed through search engines such as Google. That we've had the opportunity to write and post our thoughts, our ideas,  to be shared freely, is more than enough. So, in keeping with my thoughts about self publishing, here's something that I wrote awhile back that would seem apropos for this time of the year....

WINTER 

Crystals made from water,

Frozen in the sky,
Each one slightly different,
Form snowflakes ,

That drift, 

Silently, 

Blanketing the ground.

A chipmunk stands at the entrance to its burrow, 

Paws clenched tightly,
Shivering in the cold, 
Watching snowflakes falling.  

Chickadees, 

Dee-dee deeing,

Impervious to the snow,
Seek out hidden morsels, 

To keep away the cold.

High above there’s honking, 

The geese are departing.

Snow keeps on falling.

Chipmunk chips one last time, 

Then departs.
Deep beneath the falling snow,

Warm in its den, 

It dreams away winter’s cold.

Winter with its cold and darkness, 

Has come to stay, 

Until one day,

When,....

The days grow longer, 
And the sun appears,.... 

The snow melts away.

EAS

Okay, so it's not a great poem, but by posting it, publishing so to speak, I've put it out there.... and, perhaps, it might just inspire someone to write their own poem about winter.

Here's another to either inspire, or simply bore the heck out of you....

 

 

 

 

The Marsh

 

Winds blow steadily from out of the north, 

and whip

darkening clouds

across the once blue ,

sunlit, 

sky. 

The marsh,

once green and lush,

with waters filled with life, 

is now frozen,

snow covered, and

seemingly,

devoid,....

of all life. 

The snow swept shore

is ringed by dead cattails, that 

clatter,

and chatter,

defying...

the wind. 

A coyote,

chased by the wind,

sniffs the air, and

finding nothing there,

seeks shelter in the Dogwoods, 

and cedars, that

cling to the shore. 

Dried grasses swirl, and sway

in the wind, and 

create patterns

on new fallen snow. 

Ravens,

that once circled high in the sky,

seek shelter,

in nearby pines. 

The wind blows relentless

with no end in sight, 

but with the night

thereʼs quiet, and 

the stars,

slowly,

come into sight. 

Snow,

and cold comes,

and stays,

until,

one day, 

the sun lengthens its stay. 

Out on the ice there are patches of water.

The wind, 

once threatening,

is now beckoning, 

and geese soon appear. 

 

Life banished by the cold,

slowly,

creeps back,

here,

and there. 

Spring, 

finally, 

........itʼs here. 

EAS

March 2020 

SPEAKING OF SELF-PUBLISHING

 Speaking of self-publishing, I've probably mentioned this before, but here we go again....I also write a bit, some poetry and prose. Here's a bit of prose I came up with one day when contemplating how, should you be lucky enough to live to an old age, we tend to travel full circle:-

FULL CIRCLE

It is said that should we be lucky enough to survive into old age that we shall travel full circle.

I hold in my hands an album of family photographs. There are many photographs with quite common themes, children in their infancy, children at various stages of growing up, graduations and marriages. There are descriptions on the backs of the photographs. There are several photographs of an infant that catch my attention. He appears smiling and happy. His eyes, however, reveal no emotion for the child in the photograph knows nothing of his future. That his tummy is full, that he’s warm, and that he is loved is all that’s important. 

Another photograph taken a few years later is one of those photographs that used to be taken of school children who were perhaps six, or seven, years of age. In this photograph the child appears nervous, but is smiling. No doubt he’s been encouraged to smile by the  photographer. He’s aware, but he’s still not really aware as his future has yet to be determined.

Years later as a teenager he’s depicted as confident, cocksure of himself, yet naive. Wedding photographs of the boy matured into a man, much like those taken at the launching of a ship, herald the beginning of a voyage with every hope for fair weather. 

There are many photographs taken throughout the voyage. Some reveal happy times while others depict proud moments, but like a ship that has endured the forces of nature the man in the photographs is beginning to appear weathered, and tired, and worn. The photographs reveal that he’s aware, yet he no longer appears really aware as his future is no longer certain. His world, a world that he helped to change, is no longer his world but the world of another generation. He smiles, but you can see that he’s nervous, confused, and just a bit angry. 

There’s a final photograph of the man celebrating a birthday. He’s much, older. His smile says that he’s happy, but his eyes are on another world. That his tummy is full, that he’s warm and that he is loved is all that’s important.

https://www.blurb.ca/b/10310324-aurora-borealis

This sketch bears no connection with the bit of prose that I've posted. I include it as a reward for your patience in perhaps considering what I've written. However, it is connected to another piece that  wrote regarding a journey taken years ago. Perhaps, we'll do another posting to highlight my writing attempts at sometime n the near future.

Watercolour Field Sketch             Waterton Lake National Park

THE IMPORTANCE OF SELF PUBLISHING

The other day a person mentioned to me that, it was good that I was continuing to self publish. My first thought was to come back with the fact that I'd tried years ago to interest a publisher in various book ideas, but had been turned down. I did, however, have one publisher mention that if I was to write something about one of Canada's iconic artists, namely Tom Thompson, then they might be interested. Now, I could have jumped at the chance, but I couldn't see myself working at producing a book of someone else's work when it was my art and thoughts that I wished to write about, so I turned down the offer. An interesting fact, that publisher no longer  exists having been put out of business by ebooks and self publishing. 

With the advancement of technology and the coming of age of ebooks a flood gate was opened, and many would be writers have now been able to publish. At times it seems that everyone is a writer.  Apple, Amazon, Blurb, and others assist thousands of writers, poets, and visual artists to produce, publish, and distribute their books, some very good, and some simply a personal record of an event. Never have there been so many books to tell our history.

I self publish not only because I gave up trying to find a publisher, but because I wish to share, leave a record so to speak, of my art, and my life experiences. Both will survive but a short time following my passing, but it's important to me to tell my story.

I enjoy the work of artists such as Tom Thomson, and the Group Of Seven Painters, and applaud their efforts to record the Canadian wilderness through their paintings, but their efforts left a record of that which existed decades ago, and since then there has been change. The wilderness that they sketched and painted is no longer, the scars left by logging and mining have healed, and a new wilderness exists in its place. I've sketched and  painted in the their haunts, and have created a record of sorts of the changes that have taken place. As the Group and Tom Thompson have become cash cows to those in charge, and they are not at all interested in supporting competition for an established market, I've taken it upon myself to self publish in books, and promote Canada's natural heritage through this blog. Hopefully, my efforts to self publish will encourage others to make a record as well, and self publish so that all can enjoy the changes taking place in the Canadian wilderness.

https://www.blurb.ca/b/8036717-my-painting-places-algonquin-provincial-park-part

The following images are simply memory sketches done on what ever was handy, writing paper and scraps of this and that. Some will become small paintings. Some will simply remain memories of better times spent wandering in Canada's wilderness places.

DIFFERENT LINES Many years ago

Digital Drawing       2020

Many years ago I took a drawing course at a local college. The instructor was a chap named Bob Paterson. He was the printmaking instructor at the college. Much of the course dealt with the usual, drawing cubes, still life objects, and from time to time a life model. One night, the last night I believe, Bob challenged the class asking how many different lines could you make with a simple graphite pencil. Of course everyone replied things like a straight line, a circular line, and so on, the obvious, and then we stopped guessing. At that point Bob took up the pencil and by varying the pencil's pressure and angle proceeded to make interesting marks and lines. I've never forgotten that lesson, the last lesson from Bob, followed by slide presentation of Van Gogh's sketches and drawings. Long story short, Bob is no longer, his spirit is somewheres north of Wawa, ON. sketching the landscape that he loved so much....at least that's what I like to think.....

Examples of different lines.

This started out as just a lot of scribbling on the back of a piece of paper. To pass the time I made the scribbles into a bit of a landscape. It turned out, I believe, an example of the use of different lines to produce something a bit dynamic.

The following images are examples of jus how lines of differing strengths can make something somewhat dynamic.

 

MEMORY SKETCHES

During this time of isolation brought about by the COVID-19 pandemic, the importance of quick sketches made in the field, is a bit of a godsend. Those quick sketches made on the run, scribbles and half completed drawings, become the source of future paintings, or at the very least inspiration to pick up a pencil, or brush and encourage memories to surface.

It's been a while since I've picked up a brush. I've spent most of the last couple of years writing and publishing memories and poetry, but the other day I decided that, with much time on my hand, and not being able to get out into the field, to look at some of my sketches and have a go at making a few thumbnail paintings preparatory to, perhaps, making a few paintings......

The thumbnail sketches are 3"X5" done in watercolour on all purpose sketching paper.

Whereas the sketches are rough they did help me to remember some of my travels, and how to manipulate watercolour. It's good to understand that different papers react differently to watercolour, each creating a new challenge. The next step is to tackle a larger version of each making use of proper watercolour paper.