I just had a vegie pizza (with anchovies and pineapple) at the local, old school pizza joint. They mostly do take away but there are two short bench tables up front and one or two small round tables up the back. It's so not trying hard that it's charm is irresistible. And the pizzas are made by an Aussie maestro. Prices are fair (this is starting to sound like an ad!) and they've got Chinotto - a deal clincher for me.

I get the medium and I leave two pieces. That is just the right amount. One extra piece and it's too much. Two extras and I feel heavy. Working out that this is the ideal size and amount took a bit of trial and error.

Anyway, driving home (it was 8:06 on the dash), I reversed out of the spot right in front and drove home, approximately 6 minutes away, through the centre of town. It's a Sunday. Along the way, I saw a total of three other cars. No people.

That is the first thing I like about living in this little town. (Population 3K and change). The second thing is that there are no traffic lights. None. There's one roundabout - but it never gets too busy.

The third thing... and I haven't planned this out, I am just going with the flow... is...

Meh! Do I really want to talk about living in a small town? Nah. I mean, it really is good. Not stressful, friendly, accessible.... etc. But I don't feel like writing a list or even thinking about it anymore. So, I'm going to change topics. 

I had a nap a little while ago. And after I woke up I thought about how refreshing it is to break the mind continuum by throwing in a sleep. During a day, you have to keep track of things, you have to deal with realities, schedules, other people, driving, weather conditions, communications... And it can be a little wearing. It requires concentration. That's fine but at a certain point, sometimes, you just want to opt out. And what a wonderful way snoozing is to do so. It's like floating. Your cares and concerns drift away, you can shut down for a time. Refresh. Seriously, I'm a great advocate.

I do believe that I have a naturally busy mind. Not only do I pay close attention to my surroundings and events, nuances and formulate thoughts and opinions from them, but I also am constantly thinking up new ideas for creative projects: stories, songs, books, movies, plays. On top of that, I tend to regularly observe my own thought patterns and tendencies and speculate on them, assess them and note them. I step back and look in from the outside. Why? Because it's interesting and it's something I have always done. It's like being a scientist of sorts, unpaid and unheralded, one who's job is to investigate the mind of himself. It can get quite wild, murky, disturbing at times. But it is something I have always done, so I am reasonably comfortable with it. And I learn things. I adapt. 

It is not foolproof, of course, and there have been times when I have spiralled. This tells me that I am fallible. And that, also, I am not fully in control. Even of myself. Sometimes, I just try and ride the wild horse. I just have to hang on.

This is true less and less. The older I get the more tame my mind has become. Or is it just more familiar. Are we old friends now. Does it care for me?

The interior life, eh! Some of you will be able to relate. And outsider will observe a person sitting in silence. But, oh, the goings on inside! My god! 

This is why I am so grateful for creativity. It is an outlet, a focus. It gives me a form in which to channel much of this electric, pulsing energy. Because we are so much more than just our basic entities. We are mini-universes, each of us. And yet, to the outside world, we present such cultivated tiny packages. 

In some ways, I guess, as a species, we are just now learning to open up more, be more expressive, more exorbitant, more truly representative of our complex souls. There is no need to hold back, to cloak, to disguise or restrain. We're all from the same crazy source. We're all facets of the one. The more of ourselves we release - the more it encourages others. And on and on. We can grow together, be free together. Release ourselves and each other. 

Not just us small town dwellers... but everyone!! 

The old caravan up the back of the yard
Lies empty most of the time
It's a simple one
But it has dignity and poise
Sometimes I go up and just look at it
Walk around it
Sometimes, I go and sit inside
I don't stay there too long
It has it's limitations 
I wouldn't be happy living in it
And yet
I respect it
The old caravan
It has a personality
It feels friendly and humble, kind
I may just be imagining
But I don't think so
I don't think so

The other day
I thought about a story
Of a man who sits and looks at a caravan
Most or every day
And eventually it starts speaking to him
And suggesting things to him
It asks him to bring people to him
It starts to control his mind, his life

Might be a good story
Might make a good short flim

Oh, that old caravan up the back there
It's an inspiration
Never goes anywhere anymore
But it can still take you places

Just saw a picture posted on facebook of a distant cousin of mine. It was a post-lunch shot, out with his wife and mother-in-law. He's wearing slacks with black leather shoes, a tucked-in shirt and a sports jacket. Everyone is smiling and happy. And I'm happy for them. 

It did feel a little formal and forced, however. And it reminded me of times, long ago now, when I would do things like that.
- tucked-in shirt
- uncomfortable shoes
- ironed pants
- attending functions I would rather not

It reminded me that my goal in life has always been to be and become as liberated as possible. We are all bound by social structures of some sort. One way is to accept them and carry on. There is plenty of good stuff within the confines of conformity. This has never been my way, however. I have never enjoyed forced conversations, false politeness, pressured attendance of functions or events not of my choosing....

I realised, looking at this photo, that I have come a long way. 
- I'm almost always barefoot or in sandals
- I wear comfortable shorts all year 
- All my shirts have the sleeves cut off
- I no longer attend stiff or formal gatherings
- I am not expected to behave in any certain way by anyone

etc.

And the important thing here is that this is the way I prefer to be. This is how I function most efficiently. The less stress, expectation, pressure: the better. I rarely get mail, my phone almost never rings, I don't get invited to dinners or parties.... and I am so relieved.

It's not that I am shy or do not like people. I love human interaction. It's just I don't like feeling trapped or having things expected of me. When I go to the local cafe in the afternoon, all the staff knows me and we joke around. Same as poker in the evenings; it's very friendly and social. But it's also very accepting. If you don't feel like chatting - you don't. 

I guess I have found a place, sculpted a format of existence, that is well suited to my lone wolf, artistic gypsy temperament. I realised all this, just now, seeing that photo. I could see where my cuz is at. He may, too, liberate himself. He may not need to. He may love his place already. But me, I found that way of living to constricting. I had to get divorced, I had stop wearing shoes, I had to curtail social interactions that were no longer meaningful or rewarding. I had to move out of the big city.

Instead, I spend time alone, thinking, making art, reading, writing, playing games, joking around... all the good stuff. Simple, nourishing, natural activities. The stuff that I have always enjoyed the most. If - or when - I can make a more than just surviving living out of it all - then I will add travel and driving a nice car to the list. Until then I'll count my blessings.

If you are able to claim what you need in life, and you can, then you should. Only you know what best suits you. Find it, work it out, go for it. You'll never have it all - but, hey, you might just find the less you've got the better.

Life.

It's what happens.

I mean, I've been paying attention. Close attention. I've been observing, pondering, recording, analysing, interpreting life since I was a wee tyke. Around the age of nine is when I started asking myself the big questions. Like 'What is this?' 'What are we doing here?' and 'Why?'

I remember one afternoon sitting up on the branches of an orange tree doing just that. No answers were forthcoming but I did eat a lot of oranges.

I remember around that same time marvelling at a neighbourhood girl who was thirteen. Thirteen. Thinking: how? And: will I ever be that mature? Plus, she had a dragster.

This procedure: Life. 

Can't be pinned down. And yet we want to. We need to. We try to give it shape and definition. We need borders and structures and clusters and titles. We attempt to make sense of things. We are by necessity satisfied by whatever we can come up with. Even though it is only temporary and illusory. 

Some people don't question too much. They just get into it. Let the adventure and drama play out around them. Buy into it. Invest themselves. This is a perfectly valid response. What else are you going to do? Sit around all day and try to solve an unsolvable puzzle while in the meantime it all passes you by? Doesn't sound wise. But, but... some of us cannot help but divest from the presentation and take a peek behind the curtains. Leave the comfort of the valley home and trek up that mountain. And the next. And the next. We have metaphysical wanderlust. We are existential nomads. Philosophical renegades. Perpetual travellers. Spiritual scientists. We are drawn to the edges of the accepted realms and driven to stepping that one step, two steps further, beyond the boundries. We need to know. We need to know.

The irony is - there is no rush. All is revealed in it's own time. In many ways it is much, much wiser simply to accept the way things are and enjoy the ride. Life will play itself out regardless of how you perceive, interpret it. Why waste time navel gazing when you could be white water rafting or parachuting out of a hot air balloon?

I took this tack for a while in my earlier years. I tried hang gliding, bungy jumping, scuba diving, long distance running. I spent a year eating only raw nuts, I travelled to distant places, I experimented with LSD, I did stand up comedy, spent time with punk rockers, mental patients, criminals. I got married and divorced. I watched my wife run off with a Japanese Elvis impersonator. I shared intense, fleeting intimacy with girls I met on the beach, in a restaurant, on a bus, on the way to the bathroom. I flew to Paris on love's command after a one night stand in Kings Cross. I was hungry, wild, free spirited. During much of this frantic period I remained slightly detached and philosophical, wrote poetry and recorded my musings, but being hyper involved with reality in a demanding way did lessen the questioning.

But then I slowed down. Gradually. 

Living the simple life in an idyllic country town with a population of three and half thousand, I have returned to my ruminations. Attune to nature, mesmerised by it's beauty, surrounded by more spiritually minded folk, I have a precious commodity to play with. Time. Time to think. Time to take my time. Time to play. Time to waste. But I am paying attention. Looking for clues. I am still an agent of metaphysical aspirations. I want to know. I want to find as much meaning as I can. I have more to reflect upon now. More experience to draw upon in my calculations of esoteric algorithms. I have lived more than half a decade. Surely this must assist in my searching, seeking out.

But it doesn't. Not really. I am still a novice. 

I am still that kid sitting in a tree.

I do still love oranges. So juicy!

Living in the county is so much better than the city for so many reasons. But even with all the benefits and joys of things like no traffic lights, no parking tickets, fresh air, big skies, friendly people, laid back pace... etc... there are still plenty of times when you can take the wholesome goodness for granted and still become stressed over daily minutiae and concerns. 

One of the things that never fails to remind me of how lucky and grateful I am, almost on a daily basis, is seeing the cows out in the paddocks. Whichever direction I head in, I drive past lots of them, and I look at them and I feel serenity and acceptance. They are humble creatures. They hang out together, in nature, under the sun. They move slowly, big cruisers, they munch at will, they stay still, look around casually. No wonder the Indians think of them as divine beasts. I have to agree. They are.

Sitting here watching some old episodes of the tv show The Voice on my computer. I love the emotion of it all. I love how unknowns are given a chance and underdogs are discovered and nurtured by the professionals after they have passed the blind auditions and are selected on vocal merit.

Some of the performances are captivating and deeply soulful. Singers get to express their truth directly, through their voices. It is not something that can be faked. Honesty and soul shine through. 

What caught my attention is in the cutaway interviews, the judges talk about 'being an artist... '. What they mean is performing artist, obviously. But it made me think about visual artists. And the differences between us and performing artists, in particular singers. They make beautiful sounds straight out of their mouths, they enchant, enrapture, transfix and transform people. It is a very powerful talent. It runs so deep and is timeless and profoundly moving. A visual artist on the other hand, mostly labours alone, often in silence; feedback or encouragement is rarely immediate and sporadic at best. We spend years, playing, experimenting, honing our skills and craft, attempting to make images that will express our souls. 

A great singer can sing someone else's song and make it their own. A great artist can only make their own art. What makes a great artist is his or her ability to transcend the norm, transcend the limitations, restrictions, the expectations and create an image, or a series of images, that are so packed full of subtle power, so full of life itself that they cannot be ignored. To do this is extremely difficult and usually takes a long, long time. Devotion, passion, dedication and desire. Desire to journey to the edge of soul and gather up all the good bits, bring them back and throw them out onto the canvas in a act of pure mastery and magic. In it's own way it's just as powerful as an amazing song. Not as immediate, not as flamboyant or as attention getting, but just as moving, nonetheless. 

I've been seeing these images pop up on my facebook page over the last few days by an artist I don't personally know. They are incredible. They immediately move me, I am transfixed and intrigued by them. If I see in a book, or online, someone who's work I really relate to, I will sometimes check if they are on facebook and 'friend' them. Most artists, bless their souls, respond. We don't correspond, really, I just 'like' their posts of new works and vice versa. It's pretty cool and one of the things I dig about facebook. But this guy, the one I am referring to - I don't recall how I came to know his work or when I friended him. I kept seeing his works being posted over the last few days - so many winners! - these were awesome paintings, wow! Thick and fast. I finally went to his page and worked out that his loving wife was posting his stuff. He recently passed away. She wanted everyone to see the beautiful works he had been doing in the last few months, years. It was poignant and sad to realise that he will be creating no more. 

If I think about the feeling I get listening and watching a great singer doing their song and the feeling I get when I look at his works, I realise they both inspire me in different ways. A song, sung in a certain way can bring me to tears. These artworks, on the other hand, fill me with something equally as moving - not as immediate - but more esoterically, more subtly and in some ways, more profoundly. This man is not painting for an audience, he is not performing. He is following his calling, attentively, joyfully perhaps, recording in images his interpretation of the sensation and experience of being alive. He has left behind a beautiful and abundant legacy. I never knew him, but I feel like I do. And as a fellow artist, I respect and admire him for his talent and devotion. I thank him for his inspiration. Conrad Mecheski; you live on through your art, sir, and those of us who are priviliged enough to hear your unique, enchanting song exude from your gentle, complex, captivating images will continue to be uplifted and exhilarated by them for a long time. Thank you.

Hey kid,

You're a very sensitive fellow. But you are also very thoughtful, observant and wise. Your instincts are good - continue to follow them and believe in your own, unique, world view. 

You have to put up with a lot of crap from figures of authority. They are often wrong, as you suspected, and are really just stupid bullies. You fight them and lose because they hold all the power. But I admire your sense of righteousness and low tolerance for injustice. Don't let those fuckers break you! (They won't.)

Although you have a naturally positive and adventurous, hopeful outlook, you are often deeply saddened by your circumstances. You feel misunderstood and misaligned. You don't really fit in with conventional ways. This will not change. 

Your curiosity, love of reading, love of exploration and FUN are a centre point to your being. Your instinct is to do what makes you happy. This is a good thing. Stick with it. 

You love people - good people, open minded people, playful people, big hearted people. You are a champion for the under dog. Heck, you are the under dog!

Much of what you learn is though interacting with others - outside of the school system. You instinctively seek and find slightly older mentors who offer you new insight, support and reassurance. This is a good thing and will continue into your thirties. 

You love of romance and woman will continue to grow. Aren't they amazing creatures. As best as you can, treat them with respect and kindness. They thrive on attention and emotional connection. A few will try and get the better of you, but don't worry, they will soon fall away. 

You will be lucky enough to have some wonderful, exciting relationships with some truly beautiful women as you get older. Don't worry too much if it doesn't always turn out right for now. There's plenty to look forward to.

I remember you sitting on the steps, alone, outside the dance or the club, on occasion and feeling alone, sad. Wishing you could find someone to have a heart connection with. Don't worry, kid. They will come. 

You will marry, too. It won't last but you didn't want it to. She wasn't the right one and you knew this before you proposed. But, ironically, getting married was the only way out. She was a tough one to shake. She had emotional power over you. It wasn't until you become husband and wife and she cheated on you that you could sever the ties and walk away with clear conscience and freshly empowered. 

Your thirties are when you will really have some hugely rewarding love affairs and relationships. Some that last years, others months and a few for only weeks. But, kid, believe me, you will not be disappointed. 

Later in life, in your fifties, you'll remain un-remarried. After a promising relationship in your late forties that turns sour, you decide that being single is actually your preference. You love your freedom and independence. 

From early on, you choose to be a free spirit. You do not like to be pinned down, committed, or stuck. You like to sleep when you want, wake when you want and do as you choose with your time. This makes holding a job quite difficult. And after trying a few in your late twenties you decide it's not for you. 

After all, you are an artist. An artist and a writer. Did I mention that? Yes, it's true. Your love of books and art and movies never wanes and you begin to express your own truth. You go to art school. You study film making. You write and publish your own poetry and stories and comics. You even publish a book when you are forty. It's called 'All I've Ever Wanted Is What I Know I Can Never Have.' Nice title!

You study screenwriting at UCLA and end up writing six feature films. None of them get made, so you kind of give up and go back to painting. But you continue to make short films and write journals and poems and comics, of course. You've always loved comics!

You do stand up for a while. Solo and as a duo. You tour briefly. It's a tough road. Not for you. You also have your own comedy radio show. That is good. You always wanted that! You create some great characters and really enjoy writing and performing. You even win an award for you comedy writing! And cash!

You move to Byron Bay for seven years. Then get invited to perform your original comedic monologue in New York! Cool, huh?! They pay for you to go over, so you pack up and go. NYC isn't your style so you move to LA. It's good there, but, once again, you are an outsider and despite some elements that you really enjoy, you decide to return to Australia. 

You love your country more than ever and eventually end up back up north. This time in Mullumbimby. There are cows and chickens in the backyard. The sky is big. The sea is close by. You visit every day - you've always loved, indeed, needed the ocean. The air is clean and fresh. Country living, the simple life suits you.

You don't have much. An old car, an old computer, a small room you rent and a storage shed full of painting from the 25 plus art exhibitions you've held over the last 30 years.

When I say you don't have much, I mean, of course, material things. You have plenty. Health, freedom, imagination. Your future is open to possibility... 

It's hard being an artist. Especially one that isn't motivated to self promote. Still, every day you create new works - two, three, four, five.... You love seeing what comes out. It reminds you of the comic covers you so used to enjoy as a kid. You've got plans to publish a book of your own recent comics - you've done over 200 of them over the last year. That will be good, huh? 

Anyway, gotta go now, kid. Just thought I'd say hello and tell you some things. Of course you won't get this back then. 

But you've got it now. Take it easy.

I went for a walk in the late afternoon of New Year's eve with my brother, Mook, through the streets of Mullumbimby. As we passed this old wooden double door garage (pictured below) we were both spontaneously and instantly captivated by it's grace and beauty. We each took a couple of shots. The photos don't do it justice. 

Anyway, we moved on, kept walking and talking. Had a meal at the local Thai at the Bowlo, then went and sat outside the Civic Centre opposite the RSL club for a few hours. A few people sauntered by on their way somewhere, but generally it was quiet and empty. We enjoyed just hanging out, no hype or expectations, no drinking or revelry, no noise or fireworks; just hanging on the side of the road in a nearly deserted small town. At 11:50, we hugged and said farewell. Till next year. Love you, brother.

A few days later, on my way to Woolies, I walked past the same spot and the garage was completely demolished, absent. I took a picture again and used it in my artwork above. 

It's about moving on, new beginnings, things growing out of the legacy of that which has gone in reality but remains in spirit. We all go eventually, but the world ruthlessly and wildly replaces us with a new, vibrant lifeforce. And so it goes, on and on. 

Appreciate the old double doors while they still exist and equally embrace the sprouting fresh wonders as they appear. That's my job for the year. And yours, too. If you want it. Doesn't pay much but it's worth a lot.

I was lying on my mattress the other night watching a open-hand-size huntsman repeatedly navigate the upper levels of the four walls of my room. He's been around for a week or so now and we've decided on a mutually beneficial 'no provoke', silent, arachnoid/gentlemen's agreement. Still when he saunted up to the roof and crossed over into a space hovering directly above my head, I decided it would be wise to move temporarily to a different spot.

Lying there, I suddenly remembered that I used to read and collect National Lampoon humour magazines in the mid seventies. I used to really enjoy reading them. I don't know what happened to my collection - lost in transit, I suppose. I've lived in and moved out of thirty or forty abodes since then. I now live in a rented room with my computer, an open suitcase and a mattress. Streamlined, you could call it.

Since my teens, I have always been a high input person. Books, comics, magazines, movies, TV series, the net... I like to absorb - concepts, words, visuals, stories. I always try to find stuff that is quality. Stimulating. As a teen it was paperbacks found in the second hand store in Hiroo, Tokyo, by writers like John Fowles, Alister Mclean and James Clavell. Comic titles like 'Challengers of the Unkown', 'Sgt Rock' and 'Swamp Thing'. Then there were mags - National Lampoon, Reader's Digest, Time, Esquire, Details. Mixed in with all this was Japanese game shows, comedies and kickboxing shows.

Around 18, I discovered with great delight the art film, late night double feature cinemas and saw groundbreakers - and lifechangers - like El Topo, Eraserhead, Performance, Clockwork Orange and Nashville.

I also have always loved, sitting and watching people. From Shibuya station in the early days, to nights on the streets in Kings Cross in my twenties (observer, not hooker) to walking through neighbourhoods in the US, South America and South East Asia in my travels. To this day, I spend hours at a time in libraries, wherever I am, several times a week: absorbing. I also love their serenity and solemness.

Point is, it's little wonder my visual art output is voluminous. (3,000 plus artworks in the last 22 months).  A lot goes in. A lot comes out. It needs to. I really enjoy making pictures. From nothing to something. A simple magic. Soul soothing.

I've been in Mullumbimby (pop. 3,129) now for over a month. I used to live in Byron Bay for seven years before a recent four years in Sydney and one in LA. Now, I am back in the area. It feels like home. I am very aware of my surroundings and the environment, geographical and social. It's the small pleasures in daily life, I have discovered as I get older, that bring the most joy. I've been jumping off bridges into the river, going for discovery bush walks, enjoying the long, long stretches of unpopulated beaches. And just breathing in the dense, almost tasty, unpolluted air - courtesy of the thick clusters of native trees and plants. Aaahhh....

One of the things, though, that I noticed quite quickly is that because the pace is slower and the intensity and pressures are less than in the big city, people have time to stop and talk and enjoy each other's company. Even small interactions - in cafes, pubs, with shop attendants, at the petrol station (where they fill it up for you!) - there's a true joy in communion. And always a good laugh.

I've also come to once again, appreciate the old school Aussie spirit and character - which is alive and kicking in the yet to be 'internationalised' areas of regional Australia such as this. It's significantly on the decline, lacking, fading in places like Sydney due to a massive influx of multiculturalism. There's no turning back the tide in the big cities - and there's plenty of upside to the mixed bag of nationalities - but I have found it refreshing to be back in a place that still vibrates with an old school Australian type of character, behaviour and humour. 

It reminds me of the country I grew up in. It reminds me of the uniqueness of the classic, laconic spirit that used to prevail. To find it still existing, to be immersed in it again, is an added side benefit to the other natural positives of life in the Biggest Little Town in Australia. It's a river that runs deep and is an element of this nation that gets dissipated and forgotten amongst the progress and demands of the big city life. It's a dry, wry, hard-nosed kinship, at once stand-off-ish and embracing, that is unique to this land and a great joy to be part of once again. 

'The best way to know life is to love many things.'

I was playing poker last night at the local RSL club. At the final table I was inbetween a 22 year old apprentice mechanic and a 70 year old local bloke who was a matured mix of tough and kind.

The kid was full of swagger. He was upbeat, cheeky and fun loving. The older guy was patient and thoughtful, enjoyed interjecting with the pithy quip now and then. I enjoyed my vantage point. Come from one place, heading towards the other. Part of me wanted to give advice to the young fella, about what to expect, how to ride the highs and lows, how to truly relish the halcyon days and wonderful shared experiences that youth peppers you with. But, nah, he'll find it all out in his own time and way.

Then I thought about the amazing voyage that life is. You make it to fifty and you really have seen plenty of action. Both sides of the coin. Good and bad in all it's variations and shades. Experience truly is the greatest of teachers. You learn by doing. Getting in there. Getting dirty. Taking those hits and tumbles along with the sweet rides and the barren stretches, mouth parched and nose bloody.

I felt at peace there, at the table. The old fella dropped out and the young gun and I ended up sharing the victory - split the cash and the glory. Poker is one of the many things that I love. And so are people. And life - with all it's twists and turns, challenges and delights. It's the greatest game there is.

I'm all in!

Just drove back home after a lovely dinner at my friend's place. Not far, it's about two and a half clicks away. On the way there, I drove past glorious fields, spread with sunset softness. There were cows speckling the scenery, birds aplenty. I saw a rabbit dart across the lane way. Essentially, it was a visual treat to go from here to there. Coming home it was dark but pleasant in it's own way. I didn't see a single soul and no signs of any other vehicles at all. Just me, cruising along, covering ground, time and space, a small quiet, natural terrain in my little bubble. And I noticed how nice it was... to be able to experience this little segment unencumbered by other entities of any form. Just a human moving over the land, from one place to another. After having spent the last few years in the city, where in the same distance I would probably encounter upwards of about 1,000 vehicles/people in the same distance, it was surprising and rewarding. Made me realise how much happier and at ease I am being back in a small town. You have some much more space and time to yourself. The creator, the dreamer, the imaginist that is me absolutely loves it! I feel lucky, privileged to be here.

I have entered a new phase of existence. To my delight, my moving back to the country (Mullumbimby) after being in the city (mostly Sydney, with half a year in LA and a few months in NYC), has proved to be not just a good idea but an enriching, revitalising move. Things have changed in the five years since I left - mostly me. As in - my perception. Every day now, I delight in the wonderful visuals of the area. The rows of trees, the light gradation of slopes and ranges in front of hills and mountains, the ever changing seas and skies, the bursting colourful leaves and flowers that predominate and thrive. I have seen and interacted with dogs, horses, cows, rabbits, spiders, chickens, goats, even whales - all within these first few weeks. 

I knew it was beautiful up here, but I wasn't expecting to feel so nourished and re-inspired by the area. Meanwhile, I am eating better food, and less, and getting more sunshine, fresh air and exercise. I am no longer an inner city zombie!

The effect on my thinking allows for a greater scope and increased clarity. There is time and space to speculate, cogitate, bliss out. This is what every artist needs. Our work mirrors our perception. It's an expression and reflection of where we are at in our personal evolution. We make art not only for the enjoyment of the process but also as a tool to learn more about ourselves, the world and humanity. We are conduits, but also, scientists. We look at what we have made and consider it's origins and meanings on multiple levels. If we don't do it consciously, we do it subconsciously. We repeat this process over a lifetime. That is why it is so awe inspiring and educational to read books and study the artistic progression of favourite artists. Their tale is told in their work - and completely mirrors their life trajectory.

                    _____________________________

I was thinking about what I was writing here, this afternoon, towards sunset as I headed off to a local poker game. Of course, I was taking in the beauty all around, just eating it up. What I was thinking was how writing these entries is a valuable addition to my art output. It offers an insight into my headspace on any given day. While at times the posts may, to me, seem any number of things including - a burden, trite, imbecilic, try hard, etc - in the long run I believe it is a discipline that will be worthy of my time and effort.

I truly do attempt to purvey what is going on for me in relation to my art and awareness, so I have an honest relationship with the process. I do not try and formulate an outcome or manufacture sentiiments in any way. I want to write my truth, as it appears, without judgement or edit. What can be more worthwhile? As humans, by the nature of the game, we are struggling entities. Anything that can help myself or others to come to terms with the process must be good. If a young artist is to read this in the future - like I have read the journals of the creative forebearers I admire - and find some grains of inspiration, consolation or acknowledgment then it has been a good thing.

And good things, true good things, are, all in all, rare. They should be celebrated with cheer and delight.