Friday, 4.26.24

Final Week in Seattle (with sketches), Part 2 of 2

….As I was just saying to someone the other night, I sometimes wish that I could go back, that I could “unsee” the color that now so permanently saturates my consciousness when I take in light with my vision.  At times I miss the simplicity of only having access to painting or drawing subjects conceptually, and most of all, I miss the sense of mystery when I beheld complicated visual phenomena.  Now, seeing things visually much, much more accurately, and being able to match what I see in drawing and painting, somehow the world can at times seem limited, as if I already can see what is, rather than what might be, or what lies beyond my perception.

The work I made before 2021 now appears so inaccurate, so limited to me, that it may have well been made by a different person.  In a sense, it was.

There is no way for me to predict what will occur, what changes in my practice or in myself take place, without first going through them.  Maybe Flagstaff will be uneventful, or maybe my life and person will change, again.  Regardless, I am grateful to have this chance to make going into the metaphorical desert, in my case, going into the literal desert.  I’ve just today bought a car rack for the mountain bike I bought last week.  A road bike is not the vehicle of choice in the high desert, and I’ll need some recreation beyond my rowing machine and running shoes.  The last time (and first time) I owned a mountain bike I was in Santa Fe, feeling the freedom of careening up and down cactus-lined trails, a morning ritual that tied together my days and set up my mind and body to be free.

Riding on the mountain bike again over the last week, I felt that unique, kiddish sense of freedom again - the freedom to ride wherever, to explore on wheels, to push myself under my own power, in any direction.  Instead of avoiding tricky terrain, I charged it.

Cheers,

David