I think my greatest writing influence has to be C.S. Lewis. He was the writer that made me want to read.

I went to college in Grand Rapids, Michigan, which is the home of Eerdman’s Publishing Company. They had a bookstore where you could buy imperfect printings for 90% off. I bought every C.S. Lewis book I could find, and I read almost all of them.

From him, I learned not to just write that something was beautiful. He said I need to describe what made something beautiful. Otherwise, I would be asking the reader to do the work for me.

I think about that a lot when I am writing.

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I believe that mind altering chemicals detract from creativity. Drunk or stoned people may feel very creative, but the bar is so low, most of those thoughts wouldn’t hold up in the sober light of day.

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I write in the bathtub. It’s a private, warm place without distractions. I’ve written in the tub for about as long as I can remember. Just being in the tub has become a trigger for writing.

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Writing wasn’t my first artistic pursuit. I’m an artist. A painter. I also create digital art, and I’m a photographer.

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I usually write in the late afternoon or evening. I work the night shift, so I’m too tired to write in the early morning. I sleep during the day, and when I wake up, I’m thinking about getting coffee and running errands.

I usually write for an hour or two before getting ready for work.

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Once in a while, I grab my phone and make a voice memo of an idea. I don’t ever remember referring back to a voice memo to write, but I think the act of recording it solidifies the idea in my brain.

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One of my favorite words is unintentional.

UNINTENTIONAL. I love this word, because the thing it’s attached to had no sense of pressure. I love the unintentional meanings of things that come, attached to the more intentional idea I may have started out with. You unfold the paper and find a treasure. It was there all along hiding in the shadows, doing its best not to giggle at you before you find it.

If I lost the ability to read and write for a day, it wouldn’t be a problem. I’d sleep or watch tv… or paint, or hang out with a friend. I love writing, but it’s not the only thing I do. I’m not lost without it. You need to live so you’ll have something to write about.

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Of course I’d like to be published and make money off my writing . Money is helpful. It’s nice to get money, and it’s nice to be validated for your passion.

Publishing increases your audience. That’s a wonderful thing.

Being in this house is like a dream. A second chance. Something that seemed hopelessly lost, given back to me. I live in a sense of wonder. I’m rebuilding my life here, and it’s only getting better. I have been given the gift of knowing.

Imagine having a beautiful dream. Your alarm clock wakes you up to a life you hate… your reality… but then that dream is given back to you to live the rest of your life in. That’s how I feel.

I feel like I can be a far better me because now I know.

The headline read ELON MUSK ACTUALLY SENT HIS CAR INTO SPACE.

This, for me, is a case of life imitating art, and I love it!

Eighteen years ago, I had this very idea, and I apologize for my rudimentary photoshop skills. I was just learning to use the software, back in 2000.

Last night a friend asked me what it would look like if Flash Meridian designed a car to go into space.

Well, I can tell you, it would look A LOT like the 1961 Chrysler turboflite concept. It would have retractable wheels (landing gear). This model (it was not a working vehicle) is probably my favorite car design I have ever seen. I wish design had followed more closely our late fifties/early sixties vision of retro futurism.

I attended an art school in Detroit that was known for its Automotive Design department.

Things got pretty boring in the world of automobile design, but I get it. Economy wins out over glitz.

Back in those days, cars quickly became obsolete. You knew at a glance that Mr. Jones was driving a three year old Rambler. Tsk tsk!

That very obsolescence is what makes those classic cars so special.

On the subject of car design, how wonderful was it when Ford brought retro styling into the 1999 t-birds, or in 1998 when Volkswagen reintroduced the bug?!

I kept waiting for someone to make a new car with tail fins. I AM STILL WAITING!!! Come on, people, THEY WILL SELL!

My second choice for favorite car design is the 1961 Dodge flitewing.

My inspiration for painting comes from everything I see. Sometimes that is a landscape or an object, but in the case of my abstract paintings, what I see is the paint I have already applied.

I like to play with paint. I play with contrast, shape and color, not striving to create a specific likeness.

I think of it the way I imagine it would be to arrange music. Music can paint pictures in your brain even though it is a non visual medium.

Paint, while visual, can create a mood or impression without showing you anything from the natural, tangible world. In other words it doesn’t always spell it out for you.

I might be listening to music in my studio, and that might influence the painting in progress.

A color invites or beckons another color to come lay beside it on the canvas.

After a while, I put the brush down and hang the painting on a wall. I look at it without a brush in my hand. This is key. I’m looking in order to see, not to add to or alter.

I often then see unintentional figures or objects. These can later be enhanced, left alone or obliterated. It might become obvious what I need to do to improve it.

My paternal grandfather was an artist and art teacher. My mother’s sister was an artist, and so is her daughter, my cousin.

I didn’t grow up near any of my relatives, so they were not much of an influence on me artistically. I don’t remember ever discussing art with any of them.

My father has painted from time to time. He creates small painted wooden blocks.

I asked him why he made them and he said, “to have blocks.”

My parents encouraged my art. They were supportive, but I’m not sure they knew how to teach me about art. In school, and I’m talking about early elementary school, they devoted time to art. I remember standing in front of an easel in a smock, painting in Mrs. Barnes’ kindergarten class.

I think school not only made me more interested in art, it made art possible. I don’t remember anyone instructing me early on, but they made the materials and time available.

As time went by, art class became more structured. It was one of the more enjoyable subjects I studied, if not the only one.

By the time I was in Art School in the early 1980’s, I was fascinated by art history. We’d sit in a darkened classroom early in the morning looking at slides and listening to the teacher talk about ancient civilizations. I had my notebook and a thermos of coffee, and I absorbed the information with a sense of wonder while other students put their heads on their desks and slept. Sometimes snoring.

Like those ancient Egyptians, Minoans and Etruscans, I like to think that future generations will be looking at art by people like me.

Art from all eras is important, because we are informed by what came before us. We don’t have to invent things like perspective, foreshortening or color theory. Our predecessors have figured that out for us. Art history gives us a huge head start. Also, art is subjective. Can we really say that da Vinci is better than an ancient cave painter, or that Van Gogh is better than Rothko? It’s not a contest. Not a competition. Certain artists are remembered, and represent their time period for us today. Then I see mosaics by unknown artists from places like Pompeii. Beautiful images from another time. From a lost world. A few are remembered by name. Were they the best? Maybe. Maybe not.

They were people. People like you and me, creating art. They passionately expressed their creativity from their own perspective in their own time and culture.

It’s worthwhile to teach young people about traditional ways of creating artworks. I hate to use the word rules, but you have to know the rules before you can break them.

The dictionary defines painting as “The process, art, or occupation of coating surfaces with paint for a utilitarian or artistic effect.”

I must say, I hate to paint walls. I really do. I’ve had to do far too much of that lately. I find it frustrating and boring. Yet, I love being in a freshly painted room in my house.

When we talk about painting in an artistic way, the actual, physical application of the paint to the surface is a means to an end. It is communication. Visual language.

I do the obvious, necessary things that must be done before starting a painting. I put a canvas on my easel, open my paint, choose a brush.

Other than that, I guess I live my life, think thoughts, feel all of the emotions that life brings. Yeah, they make their way right into the creative expression.

There is no switch in my studio, or my brain that turns on my artistic mode. I’m an artist every day, in every other activity I participate in.

So that simple act of dipping a brush into a color is really all that is needed to start a painting.

There are other preparation type things I might benefit from… like changing out of clothes that I don’t want to get paint on!

The brush has a habit of flying out of my hand from time to time.

There is always a future for painters. Always has been, always will be. The earliest known paintings by humans date back about 30,000 years. We’re still painting.

For many of us, there is a need… an intense craving to interpret our experiences through art. That includes, but is certainly not limited to painting.

If I were to be reborn on earth, I would definitely want to come back as an artist. It’s the only way I can imagine me being me. It’s what I know. If I came back as a gifted musician, but without the ability or desire to paint, I’m sure I’d be happy expressing myself through music. But this is the current artistic version of me talking.

There are people who don’t appreciate paintings. The average time a person spends looking at any given painting in a museum or gallery is only a few seconds.

There are also a lot of people who love and appreciate art. Not that every piece of art speaks to them.

It’s ok. Sincere and genuine expression is valid. It’s important. If you feel something deeply enough to share it visually, I can guarantee that someone else has felt that, too. It will find an audience. A receiver. A connection. We’re made of the same stuff.

Regardless of your culture, spoken language, gender, age, beliefs, or any other distinguishing factor, we’re humans who perceive and interpret the world around us.

That is why, after 30,000 years, I recognize and appreciate the beautiful paintings in the Chauvet cave.

When the cracks of prejudice, greed and fear seem inescapable, how do you as a writer, sculptor, Potter, woodworker, glassworker, painter encounter the chaos? How does your creative process invite the light in? Where do you see muddle and magnificence in the natural world? On the North Shore? How does the natural world create new models for you? Do you seek to soothe or expose, clarify or challenge?

Spirit of the wilderness ( call to artists)

Prejudice shows itself when I least expect it, and sometimes from what I thought was an unlikely source. Racist comments from a friend recently took me by surprise. When confronted, the friend said “maybe I shouldn’t be so racist.”

MAYBE I shouldn’t be so racist???

Prejudice, greed and fear seem inescapable, because they are inescapable. Our instinct to provide for and protect ourselves triggers reactions that, if not recognized, can turn very ugly in our treatment of and attitude toward others.

What is our autonomic nervous system telling us? How can we recognize the perceived threats and respond in an appropriate and kind way?

Painting gives my mind an opportunity to process these questions, encountering the chaos in the safety of my studio. Sometimes the paintings speak directly to what I’m pondering, sometimes not. The very act of painting helps to straighten out some of the jumble in my head.

The light is there. Sometimes you just have to turn it on.

Muddle and magnificence coexist everywhere. Sometimes I’m hiking, and have to keep my eyes on the path. There are tree roots, rocks and mud that I need to be aware of for my safety. So I trudge on, head down, seeing the muddle. Then I stop and look around me at grand tree trunks soaring up from the forest floor, and the brilliant blue sky above. I just had to look.

The north shore is a perfect place to experience the natural world. It hasn’t been paved over, flooded with artificial light and sound. All you have to do is step off the highway, and you will see it.

You will see it, and you will be it. We are part of this creation. The natural models always have more to tell us. Nature is a dynamic place. Just watch. It doesn’t stay the same. The light shifts. Shadows creep along surfaces. Leaves and rain fall, the river stampedes by.

Mountain ranges rise, tectonic plates shift. How much time do you have?

Art is a language we can use to soothe or expose, to clarify or to challenge. The message is up to us. Art is the conduit.