The Golden Globes. Of course, the Sunday night live broadcast on NBC is hard to walk away from. At the end of the day with the best of my attention, effort, and quotient of energy already spent — why not be mildly entertained by the first of the entertainment industry award season shows? I…
There are no longer “dancers,” the possessed. The cleavage of men into actor and spectators is the central fact of our time. We are obsessed with heroes who live for us and whom we punish. If all radios and televisions were deprived of their sources of power, all books and paintings burned tomorrow, all…
Friday morning at Starbucks, the room is a-twitter with rising and falling conversations from tables — not unlike a tree full of blackbirds. The sound of life, the exchange of advice, consolation, the ritual of community. I am fortunate to be here. My sleep of last night was interrupted by a strange early morning…
Change can be counted upon. Today is sunny, yesterday was gray — tomorrow will be felt and seen as a unique opportunity. With the sunrise the day is born anew and so should I be. Yet I know that yesterdays challenges, the endemic obstacles and the inherited frictions within human nature endure from…
News Year’s eve. Everyone reflects. Some do it a little, I do it a lot. Cold enough to snow, just enough to whiten the ground: Nature’s proof that winter is present. How could I doubt? A few days of temperate weather in mid December is enough rhetoric in my mind, raising suspicion that climate…
The year draws down. Yesterday was warm. I decided to take a walk alongside the Fox River, to visit the FABYAN ESTATE which is close to my neighborhood. The day was gray, damp, unpropitious for photography. Determined anyway, I took my camera. The Fabyans, George and Nellie lived here from 1908 until 1939. George…
Years ago I was privileged to spend some time at the Pilchuck School of Glass, an internationally renowned community of artists in hot glass outside of Seattle Washington. Glass blowing is not an artform for the fainthearted. One must stand for hours, drawing molten glass out of a furnace as hot as a volcano. …
Saturday morning after Christmas day. State Street in Geneva is eerily quiet. Traffic is scarce. I’ve never before witnessed this scene of absence. No roaring eighteen-wheelers, vanity pickups and car traffic on this main artery to the bridge over the Fox River. Old buildings stand as a double row of street side tombstones…
You run ahead — Are you doing it as a shepherd? A third case would be the fugitive. Do you want to walk along? Or walk ahead? Or walk by yourself? One must know what one wants and that one wants. — excerpt Twilight Of The Idols or How to Philosophize With A Hammer…
The day arrives, on the face of it, like every other day. Everything up to this day has been preparation, doing the work requisite to celebration. Not that the “to do” list of decorating, seeking out and purchasing the “right gift” for those whom you have a natural obligation etc. is without satisfaction. Work…
