Drew Dixon and others have asked for a look at my recent work, so here it is. Now, I just need to get these images posted on our studio site! Graybeard Prospector says, “Dang tootin’!”
Brady On the James
John Andrew Dixon
watercolor and pencil
28 x 17.5 inches
Yesterday, upon learning about the demise of George Carlin, I wanted to make an entry here and tell everyone that I thought he and Bill Cosby were the funniest men alive back in the 60s. I didn’t do it, because I realized too many of my entries this year were about dead guys—and then I got the phone call from Mombo that Uncle Si was gone… When I was growing up, it wasn’t unusual for me to witness my mother’s older brothers lose their tempers or foul the air with colorful language—except for Uncle Si—and, if he did cuss a bit, it always came with his joyous laugh. I don’t remember ever seeing him blow his cool. I had the sense that he just didn’t sweat the small stuff, and it wasn’t until later that I learned he had endured some major troubles in his life like everybody else, especially in business. I could relate to him as someone who had chosen the path of self-employment, with all of its advantages and disadvantages. I wrote here about my Uncle Si on his 90th birthday, and I’ll let that stand as my tribute to his character. Our extended family won’t be quite the same without his large presence.
— Month of April workout totals: Swim-2; Bike-6; Run-3; Lift-4; Yoga-0; Pilates-7; Lupus Drills-4
— Most of us own something that we can use to save money and have fun at the same time. When we do, we feel more in touch with the sights, sounds, and smells of our natural environment. It helps us relieve stress, manage weight, and add years to our life. It easily bridges the age gap within our families. It enables us to more directly perceive our urban context. Sound too good to be true? Not at all. You know what I’m talking about. It’s your bicycle. May is here—National Bike Month. Don’t forget to wear your helmet.
— Speaking of bikes, the League of American Bicyclists has named Portland, Oregon a Bicycle Friendly Community at the Platinum level. Portland is the first large city in the United States to gain the designation and joins Davis, California as the only other platinum community in the nation. Combine that news with the side effects of a cross-country solo car trip, and perhaps Brendan will reconsider his conversion to motorist.
— When the idea first came up about attending the “Get Motivated!” business seminar on my birthday, consent was based on the opportunity to personally experience a Colin Powell address. Indeed, the Secretary/General was amazing, but the entire day was far more worthwhile than I was expecting. I found myself equally enthralled with both substance and technique from a heavyweight line-up of highly successful leaders. Here are tidbits selected from my sheaf of scribbles:
“Listen to your dreams, not your doubts.” —Robert Schuller
“Understand your foundation of passion.” —Krish Dhanam
“Don’t just learn something new, exploit it.” —Phil Town
“Focus on an outcome as if it’s already happened.” —Peter Lowe
“Every yes is hidden behind at least one no.” —Tom Hopkins
“Transformations begin at home.” —Colin Powell
— Back to thinking about dual-wheelers . . . After two years of presiding over meetings, I’ve stepped down as chair of B.I.K.E. and passed the baton to my friend Steve. It won’t surprise you to learn that I’ll continue to work for greater “bicycle friendliness” here and throughout Kentucky. My hope is that all who have supported my initiative will offer the same level of encouragement to Steve.
I know I haven’t been writing much lately, but I recently promised myself that if I couldn’t dwell on positive things, then I best not record anything at all in this space. Although that may seem to indicate my prevailing mood, good developments continue to unfold. It is necessary to remain focused on practical goals. Each day sees progress on multiple fronts, even in the face of adversity. Extra time spent at the Blue Bank Farm, working on the stone flue, allowed me to overcome the deficiencies of my extended learning curve. Now I know I can complete the masonry job this summer according to my original vision. I helped produce a successful annual dinner for The Salvation Army, which fulfills a major volunteer commitment. Although I cut back on my involvement with the Brass Band Festival this year, I felt obligated to complete the poster series I started in 2005. That should be wrapped up soon, which clears the deck a bit more in favor of a greater commercial workload. Yesterday I woke up with a solution to the Town House storm water drainage problems that have bedeviled me for years. I’m reading Dr. Dyer’s book on learning to live one’s imagined life. Creating the prerequisite balance is a daily challenge that I can surely meet, but only through the relentless re-alignment of my inner thoughts and awareness, and I’m convinced that I shall do that only by truly accepting the all-sufficiency of God’s love.
Far away in the sunshine are my highest inspirations.
I may not reach them, but I can look up and see the beauty,
believe in them and try to follow where they lead. . . .
—Louisa May Alcott
— As a kid, I think I first heard about Rube Goldberg from Mombo, and, although I never investigated his career in detail, he became another piece of supporting evidence with which I built the notion that I could grow up to be a cartoonist. The other day I was talking to a friend and fellow advisory board member at The Salvation Army HQ and learned he’d just attended the Rube Goldberg Machine Contest at Purdue University, where his grandson is an engineering student. Relying on their solid “home court advantage,” the Purdue team kept the prize at home for the third time in the last four years. My cousin Joe’s daughter, Michelle, goes to school at Purdue, but I’ve never asked him about her area of concentration.
— Watchmen is without a doubt the most satisfying “comic book” I’ve encountered since Joan and I discovered the story of “Superman-Red and Superman-Blue” at Pam and Lori’s house back in the 1960s. To call it a comic book will be off-target for those unfamiliar with the Hugo Award winning publication, which TIME Magazine included in its 2005 list of “the 100 best English-language novels from 1923 to the present.” When Brendan found out I’d never seen it, he dropped off a copy during his cross-country road trip. Thanks, NB. You know what I like.
— In less than a month, my level of inner peace, tenuous at best in this stage of life, was shaken twice. First I learned about my Godfather’s death in Ohio, which brought a deep sense of personal loss. I looked over some of his characteristic letters about dogs and gardening and things, traveling north with Dana to represent my Clan at a family service in St. Marys. Then came the aftershock news of Charlton Heston’s demise, a different kind of sadness, having of my own volition attached my spirit to his particular brand of patriotism many years ago. I took comfort in reading again the short letter he sent me around the time of his last public announcement. It was a personal note of appreciation for my having mailed him, over a period of years, a series of handmade birthday greetings. Greater consolation came in a message from my own Godson about my Uncle Don, and the statements Nic and his brother Seth made at Facebook about their regard for Mr. Heston, including recollections of meeting him with some of us who attended his book signing in Lexington. It was heartening to know that men of the next generation will value his enduring contribution to safeguarding the array of civil liberties we enjoy as Americans. Two resolutions honoring Mr. Heston—H.Res. 1091 by Congressman Don Young (R-AK), and S.Res. 512 by Senator Jim DeMint (R-SC)—were introduced this week in the two houses of Congress.
— Joan’s blogging has set a recent standard that can only be described as outstanding, and I need to regain my rhythm. Much to report about events in March and my current activities, but the emphasis remains with daily efforts to spin straw into gold. A life engaged in hustling after the next buck just seems to be the governing principle, or, as Mombo used to say when I rubbed the morning “sleepers” from my eyes:
Another day; another dollar…
My log is currently suspended for the annual March Experiment.
— Month of February workout totals: Swim-3; Bike-2; Run-3; Lift-2; Yoga-0; Pilates-3; Lupus-1
— If I accomplish nothing else over the next 30 days, I must find “the means.” I won’t try to define exactly what that means (hey, is that a pun?), but most of you know what I’m talking about. It can look like ferocity, but mere ferocity is no match for the kind of unrelenting competitive intensity that Uncle Don held out as mark of the victorious spirit. Well, maybe I did just define it. All I know right now is that I need to regain the source of it, and the man who coined the term is in the hospital and probably dying. He is my Godfather, and from him I inherit the challenge of “the means.” James and I were talking about him this morning when we accompanied Joan to inspect Joe’s Riverland. It was a wonderful outing that combined the gentle Lamb of March and memories of our lost Clansmen with an enduring camaraderie that is too rarely enjoyed (and I don’t mean scarce, but rare). I’m so glad we did it.
— Speaking of Joan: she uncovered this NPR feature that makes me think we might have been among the last of the “Oldenday Players.” This closing thought sums up the sad, ironic state of current affairs:
…in the rush to give children every advantage—to protect them, to stimulate them, to enrich them—our culture has unwittingly compromised one of the activities that helped children most. All that wasted time was not such a waste after all.
— Wow, did I ever miss the mark at the end of January when I failed to predict that the majority of Democrats were finally ready to kick their Clinton habit! Rather than Senator Obama’s campaign suffering from too many losses in too many states, it appears that the exact reverse has taken place, and now Hillary faces the need to complete an urgent end-zone bomb to stay in contention. Too bad that more conservative Republicans didn’t rally to Romney sooner and offer to the nation the kind of clear ideological choice that a Barack-vs-Mitt face-off would provide.
— Dadbo once gave us an item of firm advice: never work through a general contractor. He learned that lesson the hard way when he and Mombo built our house on the Shoop Road lot. The truth of his warning was born out last week by my experience with one of our clients who’s completing a new dental office. Due to the construction manager’s faulty information and his cover-my-butt attitude, what could have been a perfectly handsome interior wall treatment will fall short of what we worked to achieve on our client’s behalf. It makes me wonder how many other compromises they were forced to swallow in order to get the doors open on time. But maybe I’m missing the whole point—they did what they needed to do to achieve a massive relocation, with a net gain of significant improvement. What’s wrong with me? Done is better than perfect!
— On Saturday, March 8th, the Community Arts Center will hold its annual benefit and live art auction. According to the Center’s promotional material, the artwork is from some of the area’s top artists, and I can’t disagree with that, even if the list includes your humble correspondent. The online photo gallery offers sneak previews of artwork that will be on the block, and they did a good job of putting together that feature for the Website. The mixed-media collage I donated, Then Sings My Soul, was created nearly a year ago for KOSMOS: Discovery and Disclosure.
— Go back another year to the first March-X and that’s when I helped organize some local cyclists that would form the B.I.K.E. | Boyle County group. On March 11th, the local organization devoted to cleaning up and preserving Clark’s Run (C.R.E.E.C.) will host a community forum that will focus on trails and greenways. B.I.K.E. has not only promoted the idea of safer, more bicycle-friendly streets and roads in Boyle County, but has always hoped to collaborate with community partners as a catalyst for planning a network of shared-use byways and connecting trails.
Yesterday I finished a draft of our comprehensive recommendations to kick-start the development of a community master plan that envisions much more than the construction of a few off-street recreational trails. The process will take leadership, commitment, and years of effort. Available funding will go to the localities which combine a strategic vision with constituent support. It’s a challenging goal, but many places have already done it. Some of you know that from your travels and vacations. Those communities improved the quality of life for their populations and, at the same time, attracted visitors, new residents, and employers. Can we do it here? Stay tuned. Bye, everybody!
For the despondent, every day brings trouble;
for the happy heart, life is a continual feast.
—Proverbs 15:15 (New Living Translation)
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same…
—Kipling
My expectations for January are now cast aside, miserably out of character with harsh developments and deficient efforts. There is nothing to do except press on with the same clear appraisals and cautious optimism that I would apply to more agreeable circumstances and outcomes.
Bring on tomorrow!
— Each time this year I’ve run the 5+ miles back downtown from the cabin, the time has felt shorter, even though I’m running pretty slowly these days. The silence transpired more quickly for me this morning, too. Milton handed out his periodic survey to the group, and I discovered a 1961 Horizon in Mack’s studio that had an interview with Andrew Wyeth, famous at the time, and now the greatest living American painter. I’ll have to digest the whole article during another visit, but I was able to scan a few stimulating quotations, and then Sara Jane offered me a new commission, with the freedom to interpret a photographic image with my choice of style—the perfect assignment. Everything conspired to boost my motivation to aggressively advance the Brady and Eckerle projects, plus my fine-arts enterprise in general. I couldn’t think about anything else as I ran home. So, why am I sitting here with this log entry?
— Cliff and I had a conversation about blogging the other day and it got me thinking about my string of 616 or 617 consecutive posts, and how important making daily entries used to seem. Brendan still refers to this site as a daily journal, but that hasn’t been true for well over a year. Once again, time is malleable, and, as Arnold has said, there’s adequate time each day for everything meaningful enough to do. Blogging isn’t about the time, but about having something worth saying to yourself, maybe worth recording, possibly worth sharing. I eventually figured out that doesn’t happen every day. When it does, not much time is required to get it down.
— Terie and Marty bought the M:I:3 DVD and left it at our house, so, late last night, I watched the J.J. Abrams picture for the second time, and I liked it a bit more this time around. I think Tom Cruise is the Burt Lancaster of his generation. Regardless of what I might think of his personal life, his work product demands respect. (Hey, not all celebrities can be a James Stewart or Charlton Heston; Lance Armstrong falls into the same category.) If Cruise had not become an actor, he would surely have been an Olympic or professional athlete in some discipline. He has the mentality and natural capacity for high-performance physical achievement. Although one of the least flamboyant stunts, his Chinese-village tile-roof footwork is probably the riskiest choreography in the movie. As I’ve declared before, I think he squandered the full potential of the classic franchise and put its longevity at risk, but this sequel is the best of the lot, the most team-oriented, and it fits nicely into our ancient family idea of an M:I Saga Series. In my opinion, Abrams is a creative, meticulous director with a feel for the spy genre compatible to Mission: Impossible—Cruise certainly can’t be faulted with his selection—but Abrams will need to have further honed his story-telling skills to do justice to his upcoming Star Trek feature, another Desilu-originated concept from the “silver age” of television.
— Local historian, R.C. Brown, is dead at 90. He once saluted me on a Danville street as, “Mr. Dixon, the Spin Doctor!” We often held different political perspectives, but shared a fascination with local heritage. I recruited him in 1991 to expound before a camera, as part of a fundraising documentary (the same program in which we cast Alyx as a child actress). He was in his 70s then, and I was young enough to think I might have a future directing videos (as close as I got to being Ken Burns when I grew up). Brown was the doctor, not me. He was from Ohio, too, but went on to get a Ph.D. from the University of Wisconsin. He taught history at Buffalo State College for 28 years. When he retired to our area, he rapidly became an authority and wrote The History of Danville and Boyle County. I’ll always believe that Professor Brown respected me as a talent, even though I consider his remark shaded by a mild one-upmanship. Perhaps he did understand better than most the true nature of my commercial craft, but I hope he wasn’t thinking of Victor Papanek’s quotation:
“In persuading people to buy things they don’t need, with money they don’t have, in order to impress others that don’t care, advertising is probably the phoniest field in existence today.”
I prefer this one:
“The only important thing about design is how it relates to people.”
— Thomas Bewick, my newest hero, couldn’t escape the ongoing necessity of making money with “coarse work” (as his daughter called it), despite his artistic reputation and unmatched skill as a wood engraver. I wanted to return the library book and avoid fines, but couldn’t help myself, and finished the biography by Jenny Uglow this week. As I said previously, learning more about his life has reinforced for me the notion that, although everything changes on outward levels, nothing really changes in the human dynamics of making a living as an independent, creative craftsman. I was notably saddened when I learned that he never fulfilled his dream of having the cottage workshop close to nature described in his memoir:
“The artist ought if possible to have his dwelling in the country where he could follow his business undisturbed, surrounded by pleasing rural scenery & the fresh air and as ‘all work & no play, makes Jack a dull Boy,’ he ought not to sit at it, too long at a time, but to unbend his mind with some variety of employment — for which purpose, it is desireable, that Artists, with their little Cots, should also have each a Garden attached in which they might find both exercise & amusement — and only occasionally visit the City or the smokey Town & that chiefly for the purpose of meetings with their Brother Artists.”
Dana reminded me that we all tend to get what we desire if we want it badly enough.
“A wiseacre on the Oakland to Los Angeles shuttle this week said the next technological leap would be implanting cell phones into people’s heads. He was kidding—we think.”
—Chuck Raasch, USA Today
Someone on the news said recently that 80% of Americans have a cell phone. I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked at that, but I was, and it made me feel distinctly in the societal minority, since I don’t carry one. Not that it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve been mildly concerned from the beginning that their use might eventually cause adverse health effects, but if somebody gave me a free iPhone, I would bear-hug them and then find a private spot to dance in my underpants.
Last night, Dana created a wonderful meal with crab-stuffed shrimp for Marty’s 16th birthday, and he showed us his new iPod nano. We got to talking about Apple, with me speculating that the company might be planning to enter the game market. Marty said that idea sounded logical to him, and he predicted it might make its move when Sony inevitably faltered. I suggested that it would probably be a radical leap forward in graphic technology and user interface. He said Apple was sure to compete in that sector eventually, but wondered if they also might decide to make cars. That notion took me by surprise. “Think about it, GrandyJohn,” he added. “Before too long, a car will be basically a computer.”
Sixteen years old. Unbelievable. What kind of a nano-world will exist when he’s my age, and will I make it to age 96 to share it with him? Of course—I need at least another 40 years to figure things out. Will I still be able to get on a bike? Maybe not, but perhaps I shall have created at least one enduring work of art that will have made my life’s journey worthwhile. Hey, if I’ve made it this far, there’s no reason why I can’t declare my personal mid-point and tackle the second half of my expedition.
Joan sent me a delightful poem about becoming an old man who wouldn’t have “a computer or a clock or a phone in the house,” and the desire to “learn something just watching the birds and the weather.” I’d be that guy tomorrow if I had the nest egg, but I don’t, and I won’t anytime soon. Yeah, I know the reasons why. Most of Dana’s contemporaries are beyond their careers, and even I have classmates that retired years ago. I intend to keep working as long as someone will hire me, and, if I’m being honest with myself, I probably wouldn’t have it any other way, because I know I have a lot to learn. A day doesn’t pass without my seeing some creative thing to which I still aspire.
There are times when I think I’m the world’s most miserable excuse for a “multi-tasker,” even though I’m supposed to be able to handle numerous creative goals simultaneously. I was reminded again of this over the past week when I tried to make progress on more than one thing, but the only checklist item I could focus on was my digital illustration for our client in Lexington—which she loved. I was successful in getting past an initial creative block, and brought the process to a very satisfactory conclusion. Something in which to take pride, but all I could think about is what I hadn’t gotten done. In addition to my other assignments, I was hoping to compose a holiday-related “Joe Box,” as part of the local Art Center’s “White Christmas” exhibition, and I also expected to put in another productive session as an amateur stonemason before gathering with my Clan later today. Both of those deadlines slipped by. I’m learning to let them go—to release the sense of perpetual failure—to maintain some modest momentum of accomplishment—to forget about how far short I fall, compared to my expectations. When I grapple with these frustrations, I reckon that most high-performance multi-taskers have a personal assistant or an apparatus of managers, and then I flirt with regrets about not having built an organization around myself, but I have to stop and remind myself to avoid pointless rationalizations. I remind myself that I have an invaluable partner who supports me, and the freedom to achieve any level of personal discipline that I set my heart and mind to attain.
Today is the day set aside to give thanks, and I’m inclined to say, “Thanks for nothing.”
I give thanks for nothing new, because I already have what I need. I have my health, my talent, my independence, and people who love me. When it comes right down to it, that old man in the poem has nothing on me. I can discover delicious food on my plate every day. I can put Häagen-Dazs in my holiday-morning coffee (now, that’s why I exercise!). I can still weep when I listen to beautiful music. I don’t have to take medicine, and I can do virtually any physical thing I can think of wanting to do, and perhaps a few that I shouldn’t, being old enough to know better. I can spend a morning in the woods with a lever-action carbine and bring home to my mate a harvest of young, whitetail buck. I can marvel at my new friend’s ability to extrapolate that primal experience as an entire book of verse written in the voice of Kentucky’s most revered pioneer. I can coax my hand to execute just about any visual style that I can harness my perceptions to absorb. I can express my ideas and longings to others who care about what goes on in my head. I can dream. And I can still tell my mom that I love her.
Thank you, Father, for nothing different than all those blessings from Thee.
“Art is worthless unless it plants a measure of splendor in people’s hearts.”
—Taha Muhammad Ali
Broadway Report
— The Library closed its doors on West Broadway for the next 13 months or so, and I don’t think it’s entirely sunk in for me yet. It’s almost as though somebody boarded up a room of your house and said you couldn’t use it for a year. Meanwhile, the noise and dust levels are increasing, as construction on the new addition accelerates. One bright spot—I got permission to scrounge ten wheelbarrow loads of limestone powder left over from the work of the big bedrock drills (necessary for the innovative geothermal system they’re installing). I’m not certain how it will come into play when I move forward on our brick and stone driveway, but a scrounge is a scrounge.
Graybeard Alert
— My sharp disappointment at having our Website proposal rejected by the Great American Brass Band Festival was assuaged by an unexpected packaging assignment from Burkmann. On top of that, the Graybeard Prospector had a productive outing yesterday after the Medicine Woman concocted another one of her marketing potions. Glad to inform all that things are percolating again in the studio, and I’m almost prepared to say we’re busy.
Mokrabo Safari
— This past weekend, I helped make good on Dana’s long-held vision for a “safari dinner” at the Blue Bank Farm. The weather was a bit chilly and windy, but what could anyone expect on the first Sunday in November? The evening sky was perfect, and the Milky Way was visible before the diminishing light of day was gone. I can’t imagine it was any more spectacular in Africa that night. With us were Joan, Janet, Jerome, Lee, and David. Good food, good wine, good music, good campfire, good friends. Sure, it turned out to be a lot of work, but a memorable time was had by all. Greg Brown gave us a scare when he disappeared, but showed up the next morning, thank goodness.
Art Update
— Participated in my third wood engraving workshop at Larkspur Press, and, to avoid the tiring shuttle, I pitched a tent between the shop and Sawdridge Creek, which gave me four days of immersion that yielded two finished blocks. It’s hard to describe, but I broke through to a new comfort level with Wesley, his indomitable wife Juanita, and all the regulars who return year after year, including Richard, well-known force in the literary scene. Juanita soloed Saturday night at the Elk Creek Vineyards, and then came back to the area the following week to perform at Richard’s traditional “First Friday” gathering in the cafe next to his Frankfort bookstore, which I was able to attend because I’d spent the afternoon at the Transportation Cabinet with my fellow bicycle commissioners. Wes and Juanita had gone up to Cincinnati for another workshop sponsored there by Jack, the former international banana-shipping executive who’s expert at so many things (including printmaking) that I can’t keep track. The evening of music and poetry was exceptional. Juanita, Kate, and I sat at a table reserved by Laura Lee, one of the most versatile designer-artists in Kentucky, who just finished illustrating a book for children. Richard acknowledged us as part of the Larkspur wood-engraving gang. Gosh, to be around this circle of talents is one of the most stimulating resources in my life, and I owe it to Gray and his rare hospitality.
— Month of October workout totals: Swim-3; Bike-5; Run-2; Lift-3; Yoga-1; Pilates-5
— The ongoing exercise program is finally back in balance, but I need to boost the total workouts per month to reach an optimum level. Exercising five to six times per week has become the new target for fitness and health. Anyone who combines that with a smart diet and minimal toxic challenges can achieve significant benefits of disease prevention, weight management, injury resistance, and a greater sense of well-being. It’s an absolute must for people with a sedentary occupation like mine.
— My Pilates class at the college is shaping up to be a satisfactory ritual. The best thing I’ve learned is that I can actually do it well enough to notice some improvement. Like many physical practices, one can take it as far as individual discipline and determination permit. So far, I like it enough to want to get better, and that’s the motivational fuel I need to keep coming back. It’s tough stuff, and I usually hit a muscular fatigue point or cramp before the hour is complete, but my hope is that I’ll move beyond that by and by. I still have a lot to learn about the techniques and philosophy that underlie the right approach to this. I’ve learned from swimming, cycling, and running that I tend to avoid research at first, because the complexity overwhelms my initial enthusiasm. I prefer assimilating things with a natural receptivity, but also realize that I might develop inefficiencies and poor habits that are more difficult to unravel later, if I don’t educate myself on the fundamentals fairly soon in the learning process.
— I have Jerome and Janet to thank for my getting a large portrait commission—one of the Brady Brothers. I met with his widow last week, and we sorted through reference photos. She showed me an example of his artisanship, and it’s clear he was quite skilled with metal tooling and woodworking, even though he’d lost much of his left hand fighting the Germans in North Africa. She told me she’d never heard him complain or say he couldn’t do something. I guess that isn’t unusual for guys of that generation who came back maimed. They considered themselves the lucky ones. I’m glad to get this project as a launch-point for my portrait business, and what better way to kick-start this venture than to accept the honor of painting a Purple-Heart veteran?
— Today is election day, and I’m struggling to stay optimistic in the face of the overwhelming momentum to toss out a decent leader. Dana and I probably invested too much time in crafting our joint letter to the editor. Obviously, we remain loyal to a governor who kept plugging ahead during a difficult term in office. If Ernie is turned out, it will be in spite of his numerous contributions to improving our state government. If he wins, it will be one of the most remarkable political upsets of recent years. We’re hoping for a Harry Truman moment early tomorrow morning.
— Month of September workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-10; Run-5; Lift-7; Yoga-0; Pilates-2
— My exercise regimen is starting to come back into balance after a mighty season of cycling. The Wednesday evening rides are winding down. This week we barely got in a 20-miler before the light failed. Ernst and I managed an all-out sprint battle down Lebanon Road as a final salute to summer, but I still didn’t have enough to best him. It was a nice kicker to Sunday’s long ride. Although it was more windy than we expected, I got in a total of 60 miles, after I split off from the “Bardstown-to-Berea Century” group at Burgin. Ernst and the others continued east for the full 100. On another note, I’m making good on a challenge to myself by tackling the Tuesday-Thursday Pilates class at Centre. If I stick it out, I’ll eventually file an official report in this space.
— A huge Website proposal has kept us busy in the studio for a week or so, although I did temporarily fall under the spell of Ken Burns and watched a few series pilots, too (I may stick with a couple new shows if they aren’t yanked). For many years, Dana and I maintained a standard policy of refusing to propose visual concepts on a speculative basis. First of all, it seemed rather presumptuous to offer design solutions without adequate research and client consultation. Beyond that, it also seemed an unfair expectation—asking us to render our core creative service before making a commitment to hire us. Well, unfortunately, we’ve had to discard that practice during our lingering project drought, even though these types of competitive appraisals rarely involve comparing apples to apples. These days, everyone wants to shop for ideas and low fees, and it’s getting harder to remember when we could get retained strictly on the basis of our qualifications and past honors. It’s just one more aspect of our industry that’s changed radically in the new century. Many of the others are equally distressing. Meanwhile, I navigate the choppy waters and avoid hair dye, unlike Creed at Dunder Mifflin.
— Arts Across Kentucky finally updated its site with the fall issue, but offers no peek at my featured work. I continue to rotate layerist collages at the “Tree” without my first score. Wilma accepted my Band Festival painting at her new gallery on Main Street, and I’m optimistic about the potential for a sale. The “Egg” is the best downtown enhancement of the year, but the most exciting news item is the recent decision by Larkspur to upgrade the Manning job to a book project, with my most recent wood engraving, “Boss’s Bucket,” as the frontispiece illustration.
— Bruce has improved dramatically since he came home to Danville six months ago. The imminent surgery is a good measure of his progress, although the side-effects of dialysis are a continuous challenge for him. He’s able to exercise increasingly, and is much more energetic on a daily basis, both mentally and physically. To see him helping with the household drudgery, building a routine of creative writing, working on his car, composing letters to the newspaper, and more actively moving around the community is deeply satisfying to witness.
Call it Nine-One-One
— Needless to say, our wedding anniversaries now tend to start out with a somber mood, but that’s just part of being an American, so we put it aside to begin our own joyous observance. We took a nice drive up Highway 33 after stopping at Shaker Village and then spent part of the day in Midway, where I made arrangements for the Damselfly gallery to display my wood engravings. We enjoyed the sunny afternoon together and had a delicious dinner at the Heirloom restaurant. In downtown Lexington we discovered the same spot that Dana’s parents stood for a wedding photo, when they eloped to Lexington many years ago. Several times, leading up to the event, we talked about having a picture made on our milestone day, but we didn’t even have a camera with us, so we had dessert, did a bit of shopping at Wild Oats, and then headed home.
Lalo the Magnificent
— Joan paid a visit and made a closing installment of anniversary gifts, even though she’d given us a new Mhing game back at the Seitz Reunion. She told me about the recent NPR interview with Schifrin. My favorite part was when the interviewer asked how he was able to move effortlessly from one type of music to another. Describing himself as a “chameleon,” he said he can do it because he’s able to see the “essence” of each form. That idea speaks powerfully to me.
Lust for Lit
— To have discovered the joy and consolation of literature at this stage of life is an unexpected blessing. I recently read my first story by Paul Horgan. Joan gave me a copy of Flannery O’Connor writings. Both are masters of the short story who happen to have been Catholic. A good friend of artist Peter Hurd (brother-in-law of Andrew Wyeth), Horgan also created little hand-made library-card pockets that now sell to collectors for $500 each. He died in 1995. I don’t know anything yet about O’Connor, but I read one of her stories and found it interesting, but just a bit creepy.
Lucky’s Day Wasn’t Lucky’s Lucky Day
— I didn’t even know about Smoked Mullet until the recent BillyBlues concert at the Constitution Square Festival. James and Susan urged us to come back and catch Aaron’s performance the next day. He’s obviously looking for that elusive “hit” for which nearly all young songwriters yearn. It reminds me of my conversations with Danny D about his long haul through the music industry. Danny hit paydirt overnight when he wasn’t much older than Aaron; he hasn’t seen anything quite like it since. I also remember how a friend of mine from Yellow Springs watched his son go to Nashville to strike gold, only to see him throw away the whole opportunity when the lad couldn’t steer clear of the whiskey bottle.
Kelly Watch
— Urban Picnic received a slideshow highlight by The New York Times, and the young talent from Danville was mentioned by name. Not bad. She’s one to keep watching.
Still Crankin’ Forward
— I’ve been ingrained with the committee approach through my board service and community involvement (Band Festival, Chamber of Commerce, Salvation Army, Rotary Club, etc.), but I’ve picked up resistance about going that direction with the B.I.K.E. group. The “c-word” doesn’t seem to have taken hold as a positive idea. Too many meetings. Perhaps a more workable approach is to have a volunteer “project manager” for each objective. Those people can “take ownership,” rally a few helpers to move the ball, and then get back to the steering group with a progress report. The whole thing reminds me too much of the foundering honcho system within the Dixon Clan Council. Hopefully Mombo’s new trust will be a better context for a workable committee arrangement. To be honest, I have diminishing enthusiasm for attempting to structure the cycling-advocacy team. I’d rather devote myself to individual creative and lobbying efforts, like our area master plan, a “share the road” promotional effort, and the planned multi-use trail along the new bypass connector. Although we’ve made some great progress, I’m somewhat weary after 18 months at the helm. I’d like to see a different leader with more management skill to succeed. This would free me up to work on actual projects instead of administration. Meanwhile, the need for studio activity outweighs all these other considerations. Where’s that old Graybeard when we need him?
A very public list of options for my niece:
• Use the Oxford credential to land a position at a respected institution, starting as the assistant to a highly experienced leader — humble yourself to soak up every scrap of street smarts for the taking — do it as long as you can stand it, and then walk away with whatever new perspective you’ve attained…
• Earn a decent position with a progressive municipality or quasi-governmental agency as a lifestyle platform for high-level volunteerism — “take ownership” of a huge challenge in the non-profit or charitable sector indirectly related to your job and use that opportunity to make something very significant happen in the community — pull up stakes and carry what you’ve learned back to the academic environment — now you’re ready to conduct seminal research in an area that actually affects the lives of people…
• Wager your impressive undergraduate degrees in a job search that’s limited to companies with an outstanding corporate culture — do your homework and cull it down to only the leading-edge organizations — satisfy yourself that doing anything within the very best of management teams trumps practicing your specialty in a deficient business or institutional environment, and then you’ll be prepared to investigate your next strategic career move…
• Take a job with a publisher, polling firm, or media company to learn the communications industry from the inside — learn everything there is to know about niche-market service — job hop laterally until you’re ready to devote your new knowledge and skill set to a specific area of personal interest as a writer, and then make the leap of faith…
• Get into the best damn graduate program you can pull off, and then, regardless of your specific thesis parameters, seek out the advice of mature scholars who have the most balanced heart flame you can discern — then you can begin thinking in earnest about what next you should do with your life…
Meet your opportunities by being who you are. Don’t sell your skills, but sell your aspirations— to learn everything you can about being part of a successful team. If that doesn’t unlock a new chapter, you don’t want to work for that organization anyway. The best recruiters understand that you “don’t know jack” at this stage. They want to invest in attitude and potential. Keep scratching until positive things happen. Good Luck, KK!
— Month of August workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-9; Run-0; Lift-2; Yoga-0
— When I first participated in the Pound & Pedal 20-miler, it started in downtown Danville and ended at Turtle in the Night Farm, the Morgan family homestead in Forkland. With a climb up Catholic Knob, plus its 30-to-40-mph descent, the course was tough and exciting. As we gathered this morning for the annual challenge, which now has a long-established course that extends into Mercer County and back, nobody remembered exactly how long a history the event has, but Ernst thought today might be the 20th anniversary. The current course is not as dramatic, but it’s still rigorous and far from flat. The best athletes took part in the traditional run-bike team competition, so I managed to win the bicycle-only division with a time of 1:05:41. Once again it fell short of the elusive 20-mph average, but only 19 seconds slower than my 2001 finish. Hey, I can live with three seconds a year. Dick B told me I was “aging gracefully.”
— If I could make a living doing what I did yesterday… Well, I don’t know how to complete that sentence. After spending the morning with graver tools, I pulled a crude proof to see if my block was nearly done. It was the best print I could produce at home, but it told me it was time to head to Larkspur. We made the trip to Monterey and I spent the rest of the day alternating proofs on the Vandercook with more clean-up and finishing touches. I wasn’t sure if Dana was getting bored, but it turned out to be an opportunity for her to spend some time with Gray and get a better sense of his rare individuality. I left the block in his hands with a sense of satisfaction, looking forward to his broadside composition of the Manning poem with my illustration.
— I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, but the Arts Across Kentucky article about me was published with a disappointing number of errors and poor visual decisions, but that seems to be somewhat typical of the magazine. Nevertheless, it’s good publicity and is apparently seen by many high-level people. They still haven’t updated the Website to reflect the current issue that contains my profile. It’s up to me to leverage this constructively, otherwise it may offer little on its own to enhance my situation.
Oh, Johnny… no Johnny…
— Although I never did go out to Pioneer Playhouse for the closing performance (to roll the dice and hope for a Johnny Crawford sighting), we did make the last showing of Raintree County at DHS. Well, it stunk as bad as I was afraid it might, except for Lee Marvin, who admirably carried every scene they put him in. I even found the bull-whip sequence a let-down. I’m not sure Mombo thought it was that good either, knowing she would use GWTW as her standard of comparison. There are numerous reasons why this expensive production flopped fifty years ago, but the list starts with 1) Lousy Screenplay. The only way they could have made this picture more disappointing would have been to ask Monty Clift to take off his shirt. Nevertheless, plenty of people around town knocked themselves out to put on the anniversary festival. It would’ve been more than worth it had Eva Marie decided to make an appearance, but she wrote organizers and said she couldn’t. I did enjoy watching her on a big screen and imagining her time on location in Danville. ”Old-timers” all say she was just as sweet as Taylor was aloof. In any case, I’ve decided that if I ever get a custom phone tone, I want to have a Raintree recording of Eva Marie saying, “Johnny… Oh, Johnny!”
Hurry! Hurry! Step right up!
— Don’t know yet if the new issue of Arts Across Kentucky has been published yet, but I managed to get my revisions to our studio Website uploaded this morning. To somebody else, it may look as though I’m comfortable when tooting my own horn. Self-promotion is something I can’t avoid, but it’s never felt natural to me. I’d always rather be pitching someone or something else. I figured that eventually the output would sell itself, but, sadly, it doesn’t work that way.
Bay-bo smile
to the rescue
— Recently broken hearts were soothed when new pictures of “Baby Molina” arrived. Everyone in my Clan already knows that the birth mother of the second hoped-for child made a decision to withdraw from the adoption process. Many of the indicators were suggesting that might happen, but it doesn’t make it any less painful for Janet and Jerome. No matter how philosophical I try to be, my soul aches for them.
— Month of July workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-6; Run-1; Lift-4; Yoga-2
— When stupid costs only time and money, while highlighting the blessings of friendship—clearly there are much worse blunders one can make. This is the moral of Brendan’s story. (I’ll be damned if that young man can’t write a superb blog entry!)
— Big Sis is in happyland with all kiddoes stateside, and many good things are happenin’ all around the Clan. I dug out a 1997 Hi-8 tape for Seth’s secret project and made the hand-off in Liberty this morning after a biz meeting at City Hall. Look out. The Medicine Woman gave Old Graybeard a haircut and he’s building an opera house where the mule skinner’s shack used to sit…
— My profile in Arts Across Kentucky is about to hit the street, so I’m frantically trying to finish a major revision to the Dixon Design Website. Whenever I’ve looked the site over, all I’ve wanted to do is scrap it and start over, but I’ve convinced myself that the smart thing to do in the interim is to build on what I’ve already got, until the urge to take a busman’s holiday overwhelms me. (No hotlinks today—rest that click-finger until my newest pages are live.)
— Well, two-wheeler fans, my favorite cyclists (both former world mountain-bike champions) came within seconds of winning the big one, but young Alberto held them off. None of them will get the credit due, given the fact that this Tour will be remembered only for those who dishonored the sport. Ok, enough for this year. You already know what I think about it… Shameless dog-fighters, a crooked ref, and lying, juiced-up sluggers… What pro sport can measure up these days? I even saw the Golden Bear on TV responding to questions about performance-enhancers in golf. Sheesh!
Tales of the Graybeard Prospector XXII
— The grizzled one prospected for both types of precious ore on the same day. He staked the first claim early in Marion County, searching for evidence of silver in the applied arts. By the end of the day, he was panning for gold at a gallery opening, with at least one promising nugget to his credit with a personal invitation to visit the big city from one of Lexington’s most prominent fine-arts administrators.
“How is it with stains?”
— I stopped by the Motor Mall to match a truck color for Pike Valley Farm. I was walking across the lot with a salesman when I made the mistake of stepping into his blind spot and I was nearly hit by a stream of saliva. He apologized by saying he’d been a catcher in college. The only reply I could think of was, “Well, I suppose that baseball is the last bastion of spitters.”
By hook or by crook, we will.
— Constructive thought is about making connections. Acquisition of information provides little, unless it helps me draw associations, which I have a natural tendency to do, even without sound data. It seems as though bits and pieces of knowledge, plus a variety of external influences, are continually converging in my daily awareness, and I can look at this as random static, coincidence, synchronicity, or divine guidance, but, fundamentally, it’s just the way I think, and I’m used to it. Perhaps that’s why, as a creative person, I find the process of collage so interesting and often develop visual ideas with a montage approach. Perhaps it’s also why I find it difficult sometimes to concentrate. Achieving any type of perceptual breakthrough invariably requires me to severely limit interruptions and drain a pernicious swamp of festering “to-do’s” and internal distractions. I haven’t had a decent creative rhythm lately, but something will shake out soon—I can feel it coming.
All jigged out? For shame!
— It was a full weekend. Marty and I got an early start on Saturday and hauled one load of blacktop to the fill on our way to Richmond. We helped clean out the garage at Fourth Street House and brought back a load of bricks that almost broke Ned’s butt. I nearly broke my own trying to help get that stone bench from the back yard into the bed of Mighty Manfred. Dropped Marty off after we unloaded the bricks at the Town House and headed to Blue Bank. Nothing going on, but I was glad I hung out, because Joan turned me on to Mhing, a conversion of Mah Jong to playing cards. Dadbo became enamored with it when he visited the Thomas cabin, and now I’m hooked, too! Sunday morning brought a nice 34-miler. Dan’s front cable broke, which continued the run of bad luck from Wednesday night, when a young guy went down on the bridge before Sand Knob (near Carpenter’s Creek) and broke his elbow. Most of Sunday afternoon was devoted to our Clan Council meeting, and we took another portrait afterwards (this time I did it right—35mm film in the shade). We moved the stone bench to a temporary spot in the cemetery. Michelle and Godson Nic announced their wedding date in summer 2008, but no “jumpin’ jig” erupted. Jay killed a pair of copperheads with a shovel. Jerusha gave me five “Pirate” Hot Wheels. I committed to completing the rock flue next month, so Marty and I need to reserve a couple days to finish the job together. All-in-all, it was a good Clan weekend. Mombo is gradually doing better, Terie’s new job is going well, J & J are counting down the days until “Bay-bo Hour,” and the Loft-mates have both quit smoking! I’m probably forgetting other news, but it’s time to call it quits.
— Month of June workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-11; Run-0; Lift-0; Yoga-0
— Easy to see that cycling is providing my only form of exercise these days, and I need to figure out what it will take to jump start my typical cross-training. In any case, I find myself thinking all the time about when I’ll saddle up for my next ride. In this part of the country, the lack of rain is creating a serious condition, but it’s made for some superb cycling weather this season, and I’m digging it. Speaking of digging, Marty and I removed another big section of old driveway at the Town House today and hauled it off in rusty Ned. I’m worn out, because six of us local cyclists went to Frankfort yesterday for the second annual Share the Road Ride and Rally. We completed a 53-mile loop through Woodford County, and the roads going in and out of Midway are the most scenic I’ve ever enjoyed on a bicycle. Talk about the heart of the Bluegrass! Just being there gave me the second wind I needed to log my new maximum single-ride mileage for the year (I’m ready for a 60-miler now). We arrived back at the Old Capitol in time for the noon rally. As the only Bike Commissioner there in riding attire, someone suggested I stand in front of a TV camera and say something. It was incoherent enough that I hope they never use it. As many know, I’m more of a rambler than a sound-bite guy when it comes to talking about “all things bicycle.”
— After a busy second quarter (with my solo exhibition, but on many levels), I’ve been looking forward to a “time out” over the next week or so. I need to be unavailable enough to get some things done that have been on the back-burner for way too long, such as finishing the reorganization of the conference room and popping the bonnet on my Mac G4 for a vital overhaul. This kind of a thing always sounds like a good idea until the target date is here. In my experience, clients are much better at taking a break than permitting us to do the same. We’ve wanted for some time to become “indispensable” again, so it will behoove us to stay accessible, but there are things I just have to do to prepare for when we are truly swamped again, and it’s only a matter of time. The Liberty/Casey account is picking up steam, the floodgate could open at any time with the new automotive client, and things are going well with the organic farm. The owners met with Whole Foods last week and picked up more orders for their organic meats, which triggers a need for new packaging graphics. The pendulum is swinging back for Dixon Design, and I must prepare our physical and virtual environment to cope with a heavier flow of business.
— Decades before the blogging culture became a fact of life, E. B. White wrote an introduction to a volume of his selected essays. For anyone who justifies writing words in a public log, his thoughts about the essayist are valuable reading. Most of us who carry on like this have no idea what we’re doing. White, by contrast, had no illusions about the nature of the format he mastered, and nearly all of us who excessively talk about ourselves in thousands of blogs (millions?) would benefit by taking his words to heart and by applying them to our peculiar practice.
The essayist is a self-liberated man, sustained by the childish belief that everything he thinks about, everything that happens to him, is of general interest… Only a person who is congenitally self-centered has the effrontery and the stamina to write essays… The essayist arises in the morning and, if he has work to do, selects his garb from an unusually extensive wardrobe: he can pull on any sort of shirt, be any sort of person, according to his mood or his subject matter—philosopher, scold, jester, raconteur, confidant, pundit, devil’s advocate, enthusiast… leave the essayist to ramble about, content with living a free life and enjoying the satisfactions of a somewhat undisciplined existence. (Dr. Johnson called the essay “an irregular, undigested piece”; this happy practitioner has no wish to quarrel with the good doctor’s characterization.) There is one thing the essayist cannot do, though—he cannot indulge himself in deceit or in concealment, for he will be found out in no time… the essayist’s escape from discipline is only a partial escape: the essay, although a relaxed form, imposes its own disciplines, raises its own problems, and these disciplines and problems soon become apparent and (we all hope) act as deterrent to anyone wielding a pen merely because he entertains random thoughts or is in a happy or wandering mood.
— Jennifer B has a squirrel in her knickers about an insignificant reunion of entertainers. Well, there’s only one significant reunion that could get me excited, because I’m old enough to remember the Original Spice Girl…
— Month of May workout totals: Swim-0; Bike-6; Run-1; Lift-0; Yoga-0
— Unimpressed by my exercise stats, I have to remind myself that it’s a big improvement over my uncharacteristically sedentary April, and that my workout log doesn’t include things like hauling truckloads of crumbled blacktop out to the asphalt plant. Well, I’m still blessed with excellent health, my weight is under 160, and I’ve got a 17.4 bmi. With everything going on around me, I have to be very, very thankful for that. So, now that it’s summer, it’s time to ratchet up the physical activity and get in shape. Muscle Club, anyone?
— If you aren’t reading Peat’s European journal, you’re really missing out. She calls it “The End of Fear is Where We Begin,” and it’s classic Peat. Her smile shines right through every word on the screen. And how about that KK? Can’t wait to see the BIG BLADE!
— On a recent solo trip to Louisville and back, I finally broke into the “Zero Hour” tapes that Joan loaned me a long time ago. Who knew at the time that Rod Serling had hosted radio dramas for talents like Jessica Walter, Richard Crenna, Keenan Wynn, Joseph Campenella, Brock Peters, and Earl Holliman? Apparently, over 55 hours of drama were produced, and, like so many things these days, it’s also available on CDs or as MP3 files. I still don’t mind listening to audio cassettes, but, come to think of it, if I don’t copy my tape of Heston reading the Psalms I’m likely to wear it out before long.
— I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited about an upcoming Brass Band Festival weekend, but I’ve never been the featured artist before. It helps to be enormously pleased with how my highly visible contributions turned out. I can go into the whole thing knowing that it’s my best effort on display. On the other hand, I seem to be feeling more and more awkward being in a position to take credit for things that come from the Source of all constructive influence, creativity, imagination, and beauty. I feel like I’m merely the object of good fortune, and, at the same time, I know well the moments of struggle, and the “means” it took to find my way over obstacles I wasn’t sure I could surmount. I well remember Danny D’s remark to me that “God doesn’t write songs or make movies.” Sorting all this out is why I continue to do it, I suppose, but it’s a bit of a roller-coaster at times. It felt like I could finally catch my breath this week, with Mombo home from the hospital, and supervision of the poster printing behind me. Some kind of balance has returned to daily life, deadlines are being met, and the outlook in the studio hasn’t been this bright for many, many moons. I’m not saying that Graybeard is dancing around his campfire, mind you. Things could always be better, but the worst is definitely in the past. In other words, I shouldn’t need to sell any more mediocre cartoons to a nephew any time soon. And I’m writing this with a calm heart, even though I didn’t sell a single collage from my KOSMOS exhibition. Well, enough of that. Onward and upward, as they say.
— I fell short of my goal to get the Band Festival poster into final production today when downtown Danville had a power outage. It had to do with a line that fell down near the college, possibly due to “metal fatigue” from a previous lightning strike. With our cordless handsets useless, I had to make an important call with our old rotary dial phone, still hard-wired on the ground floor of the Town House. The sound quality was excellent. Don’t knock old tech—it can still provide an adequate butt-saving now and then. On the other hand, I let the back yard grass get so long that cutting it with Uncle Art’s old push-mower is out of the question. Time to fire up our Troy-Bilt for the first time in several years.
— You’ll have to consult with Brendan about how far Jennifer Brummett has to go before she’ll achieve any level of credibility with him, but perhaps the hole she dug a while back is not quite as deep after this past weekend. In addition to putting together a rather nice feature on my KOSMOS exhibition for The Kentucky Advocate, she selected my donated art when her ticket was called at Saturday night’s Art-Full Raffle. It was an enjoyable event, with proceeds funding the Arts Scholarship Program of the Arts Commission of Danville/Boyle County. The piece (which I titled Microcosmic Musings) was the smallest collage from the body of work created for KOSMOS, so I decided to donate it to the Art-Full Raffle. Since its inception in 2004, the program has awarded more than $5,000 in scholarships to 74 children for extra-curricular classes their families would not otherwise be able to afford.
— It’s been a while since the old Graybeard first went into the Knobs to stake a claim, but it’s finally paid off with a project from Casey County. The Central Kentucky Ag/Expo Center is an extraordinary investment, but has always struggled with its marketing image. Not a bad strike for our studio, and, if things work out, we might have the opportunity to drop a connecting shaft into a few other promising veins.
What should people in our situation do when a client turns “icky?” How does one balance a professional independence earned through years of effort with the pressing need to build more business?
Not an easy decision . . .
— Dana and I had an interesting conference yesterday. We met a guy at a Starbucks in Lexington, unsure about exactly how his role dovetailed with our new project for ftb-automotive. We thought he might be a bedroom Web designer, and he turned out to be a top executive with HOST Communications, one of the most prominent providers of interactive services in Central Kentucky. You never know.
— The Arts Across Kentucky deal came through, and I was able to get a drum-scan of my Band Festival poster art in time to touch it up and forward it on to the magazine for today’s deadline. Dana took time to revise my biographical profile, and it’s almost beginning to sound halfway credible.
— NBC makes episodes of its series available online, so Dana and I just had to watch the season closer for “FNL” that we missed on her birthday. Even though it was inside a little box, and the video was kinda jerky and crude, and I was listening with cheap headphones, the finale choked me up. Peter Berg’s extraordinary show has me totally captivated. Now I’’ll be on edge ’til I find out if it gets picked up for a second year.
— This weekend is David’s scheduled event at the Simpson Range—his .310 Cadet and British Single Shot Sporting Rifle Matches. I’ll be combining some business with pleasure, and it’s certain to be a great time, but I have to admit I’m getting a bit concerned about how many days I have left to prepare for KOSMOS.
My two major volunteer projects of the year seem to have converged in a single work week, and if I can just get through the next twenty-four hours in one piece, I should be able to use the holiday to wind down a bit and refocus on my preparations for the May exhibition.
Oh yeah, it occurs to me that there are now some clients who desire to pay me if I spend some creative time on their behalf.
A wise man would comply.
March experiment—day twenty-two— If I’d taken time earlier to characterize my day, I would’ve declared that my experiment had broken down, but now I’m not sure, and that’s why I go a bit mad at this point in the exercise. Has the imposed mental structure fallen apart, or has it been absorbed into my state of being? Has the regimen lost “front of mind” status only because I’ve encouraged it to become a foundational habit of situational awareness and time management? Great Scot! Can I not distinguish between failure and success? This must be why I tend to go a bit mad at this point in the exercise, or did I say that already?
Today’s sight bite— The fleshy, white thighs of my new client, as he sits on our couch—c-l-i-c-k—explaining auto-security remotes with typical enthusiasm, but his shorts are alarmingly—short!
Tomorrow— Hit the scheduled milestone and keep plugging, in preparation for the round-trip to Indianapolis…
March experiment—day twenty— Business development is no more an exact science than most other areas of life, and, let’s be honest, most areas of life defy rational explanation, no matter what the experts say. I suppose that’s why—after months of trying to generate new sales through prospecting—we solidified two new working relationships today that apparently came out of nowhere. I say “apparently,” because I can’t be convinced there isn’t some invisible hand at work in these matters. Nevertheless, we have reason to believe that specific positive influences played a part, such as our reputation in the community and the impression of our Website. When you pick up the cue and “break,” you have a reasonable hope that several of the balls will end up in pockets, but just try to explain exactly why some do and others don’t. It’s impossible. You just move on to the next shot, knowing there was some hidden logic to it all. That being said, does the Graybeard stop prospecting? Of course not. Who knows? Perhaps a willingness to stick the ol’ neck out to begin with is what inexplicably sets off the entire chain reaction.
Today’s sight bite— A silvery mist cloaks the downtown streetscape—c-l-i-c-k—as night slides into morning, and puddles sparkle with steady precipitation.
Tomorrow— Take my faltering schedule by the scruff of its neck and restore discipline to the experiment…
March experiment—day fifteen— I was able to take care of my physical fatigue with a good night’s sleep below an open window. I needed to find another way—perhaps not as foolproof—to deal with my mental weariness, and so we watched a DVD that Terie had recommended, Stranger than Fiction. It’s an exceptionally good motion picture and hits rather close to home for me. I’m feeling a bit disappointed about learning that another company is abandoning one of the well-recognized logos we designed in the 90s. On the other hand, I’m happy about Hayley’s honor. The director of our Community Arts Center abruptly resigned, so I’m concerned about how that will effect my scheduled one-man show in May. My dear friend Shirley C sent me an email today with news that her husband’s 48-year-old son died unexpectedly. It’s important for me to transcend these emotional cross-currents and maintain focus on the goals I’ve laid out for this month.
Today’s sight bite— Abstract patterns on the natatorium ceiling pass by—c-l-i-c-k—gliding, drifting, fading above my backstroke—as devoid of meaning as the non-thoughts in my mind.
Tomorrow— Bump the cadence, just like I’ve done when running negative splits in a 5,000-meter race…
March experiment—day twelve— For what it’s worth, an “Ephraim sighting” suggests a day of receptivity and creative alertness. I may spend some time at the library and see if I can bring my March objectives into coherent alignment with realistic expectations. This must be achieved before the experiment is half over, although the sense of a new beginning is already upon me. I want this to be as challenging as possible, but a touch of the absurd can bear only so much fruit before it becomes counterproductive. Later in the day— My entries for “Exploring Multiple Dimensions,” the SLMM national exhibition in Albuquerque, are in the mail. The relief of having this done makes me realize how important it is to have periodic completion points, as opposed to long spells of effort with no “payoff.” Not very profound, I suppose, but it seems like a revelation at the moment, because I’ve been working too many days without the gratification of finishing something. This puts my daily checklist in a new light. Having so many completion points scheduled at the end of the cycle was the wrong way to plan this. Steady reinforcement is better, if I can avoid a “celebratory” lapse of momentum (that old, familiar pitfall).
Today’s sight bite— The tiny formations of purple, yellow, and gold crocus shoots catch my eye—c-l-i-c-k—like miniature Swiss Guards reporting for duty.
Tomorrow— Launch a revised series of deadlines, speak to the local prospect about a lettering commission, and meet with B.I.K.E. members about the emerging season of cycling priorities…
